ounded by gardens; but the neighbouring hills were
here and there bare of vegetation.

Some of the troopers in front sang a sort of chorus, and now and then
a fellow to show off his horse, would ride _a la djereed_, and instead
of flinging a dart, would fire his pistols. Others joined us, and our
party was swelled to a considerable cavalcade as we entered the
village, where the peasants were drawn up in a row to receive me.

Their captain then led the way up the stairs of his house to a
chardak, or wooden balcony, on which was a table laid out with
flowers. The elders of the village now came separately, and had some
conversation: the priest on entering laid a melon on the table, a
usual method of showing civility in this part of the country. One of
the attendant crowd was a man from Montenegro, who said he was a
house-painter. He related that he was employed by Mahmoud Pasha, of
Zwornik, to paint one of the rooms in his house; when he had half
accomplished his task, the dispute about the domain of Little Zwornik
arose, on which he and his companion, a German, were thrown into
prison, being accused of being a Servian captain in disguise. They
were subsequently liberated, but shot at; the ball going through the
leg of the narrator. This is another instance of the intense hatred
the Servians and the Bosniac Moslems bear to each other. It must be
remarked, that the Christians, in relating a tale, usually make the
most of it.

The last dish of our dinner was a roast lamb, served on a large
circular wooden board, the head being split in twain, and laid on the
top of the pyramid of dismembered parts. We had another jovial
evening, in which the wine-cup was plied freely, but not to an
extravagant excess, and the usual toasts and speeches were drunk and
made. Even in returning to rest, I had not yet done with the pleasing
testimonies of welcome. On entering the bed-chamber, I found many
fresh and fragrant flowers inserted in the chinks of the wainscot.

Krupena was originally exclusively a Moslem town, and a part of the
old bazaar remains. The original inhabitants, who escaped the sword,
went either to Sokol or into Bosnia. The hodgia, or Moslem
schoolmaster, being on some business at Krupena, came in the morning
to see us. His dress was nearly all in white, and his legs bare from
the knee. He told me that the Vayvode of Sokol had a curious mental
malady. Having lately lost a son, a daughter, and a grandson, he could
no lon