the glories in store for the pause, the
turn, and the view. When, at length, I stood on the highest peak; the
prospect was literally gorgeous. Servia lay rolled out at my feet.
There was the field of Kossovo, where Amurath defeated Lasar and
entombed the ancient empire of Servia. I mused an instant on this
great landmark of European history, and following the finger of an old
peasant, who accompanied us, I looked eastwards, and saw Deligrad--the
scene of one of the bloodiest fights that preceded the resurrection of
Servia as a principality. The Morava glistened in its wide valley like
a silver thread in a carpet of green, beyond which the dark mountains
of Rudnik rose to the north, while the frontiers of Bosnia, Albania,
Macedonia, and Bulgaria walled in the prospect.

"_Nogo Svet_.--This is the whole world," said the peasant, who stood
by me.

I myself thought, that if an artist wished for a landscape as the
scene of Satan taking up our Saviour into a high mountain, he could
find none more appropriate than this. The Kopaunik is not lofty; not
much above six thousand English feet above the level of the sea. But
it is so placed in the Servian basin, that the eye embraces the whole
breadth from Bosnia to Bulgaria, and very nearly the whole length from
Macedonia to Hungary.

I now thanked the captain for his trouble, bade him adieu, and, with a
guide, descended the north eastern slope of the mountain. The
declivity was rapid, but thick turf assured us a safe footing. Towards
night-fall we entered a region interspersed with trees, and came to a
miserable hamlet of shepherds, where we were fain to put up in a hut.
This was the humblest habitation we had entered in Servia. It was
built of logs of wood and wattling. A fire burned in the middle of the
floor, the smoke of which, finding no vent but the door, tried our
eyes severely, and had covered the roof with a brilliant jet.

Hay being laid in a corner, my carpet and pillow were spread out on
it; but sleep was impossible from the fleas. At length, the sheer
fatigue of combating them threw me towards morning into a slumber; and
on awaking, I looked up, and saw a couple of armed men crouching over
the glowing embers of the fire. These were the Bolouk Bashi and
Pandour, sent by the Natchalnik of Krushevatz, to conduct us to that
town.

I now rose, and breakfasted on new milk, mingled with brandy and
sugar, no bad substitute for better fare, and mounted horse.

We now d