nquestionably some of
that super-human charm which Raphael sometimes infused into his female
figures, as in the St. Cecilia. As I repeated and prolonged my gaze,
I felt that I had seen no eyes in Belgrade like those of the beauty of
the Drina, who reminded me of the highest characteristic of
expression--"a spirit scarcely disguised enough in the flesh." The
presence of a traveller from an unknown country seemed to fill her
with delight; and her wonder was childish, as if I had come from some
distant constellation in the firmament.

Next day, the father of the captain made his appearance. The same old
man, whom I had met at Palesh, and who had asked me, "if the king of
my country lived in a strong castle?" We dined at mid-day by fine
weather, the windows of the principal apartments being thrown open, so
as to have the view of the valley, which was here nearly as wide as at
Liubovia, but with broken ground. For the first time since leaving
Belgrade we dined, not at an European table, but squatted round a
sofra, a foot high, in the Eastern manner, although we ate with knives
and forks. The cookery was excellent; a dish of stewed lamb being
worthy of any table in the world.

Our host, the captain, never having seen Ushitza, offered to
accompany me thither; so we started early in the afternoon, having the
Drina still on our right, and Bosniac villages, from time to time
visible, and pretty to look at, but I should hope somewhat cleaner
than Sokol. On arrival at Bashevitza the elders of the village stood
in a row to receive us close to the house of conciliation. I perceived
a mosque near this place, and asked if it was employed for any
purpose. "No," said the captain, "it is empty. The Turks prayed in it,
after their own fashion, to that God who is theirs and ours; and the
house of God should not be made a grain magazine, as in many other
Turkish villages scattered throughout Servia." At this place a number
of wild ducks were visible, perched on rocks in the Drina, but were
very shy; only once did one of our men get within shot, which missed;
his gun being an old Turkish one, like most of the arms in this
country, which are sometimes as dangerous to the marksman as to the
mark.

Towards evening we quitted the lovely Drina, which, a little higher
up, is no longer the boundary between Servia and Bosnia, being
entirely within the latter frontier, and entered the vale of
Rogatschitza, watered by a river of that name, which wa