tain tenements were harried and burned. Cattaro,
therefore, and its delights, were denied him for the present; but it
was hoped that the temporary bad odour would soon pass away. The
village was nearly deserted; few remained that night in Cettigna but
ancient men. The Vladika was on and away. He had departed that
morning, his brother remaining to take charge of the place. To-morrow
the assault of the fortress was to commence, or, some said, it had
already begun. We felt we had arrived at a good moment, and were
prepared to hasten in the morning to the scene of action, thirsting
with excitement. It was thought not unlikely that a battle might take
place. The evening was cold and wet, and we therefore took up our
position over the kitchen fire. In these regions this is placed in the
middle of the room, and the smoke gets out how it can, or not at all.
A peculiar sensation in the eyes will present itself to the mind as
the result of such an arrangement. The kitchen, however, besides being
the warmest, was by far the gayest place. Here we watched our dinner
cooked, and ate it afterwards; heard of wars and rumours of wars;
listened to heroic ballads, chanted by a warrior, and accompanied by a
species of one-stringed fiddle; and made the acquaintance of two very
fashionable young men. One was the bishop's nephew, a handsome lad
about seventeen, who was, on account of his youth, very shy and
modest, and acted as _cavaliero servente_ to the kitchen-maid. The
other was a remarkably good-looking and well-dressed young man, whom I
had observed on entering the place, and set down to be somebody. He
was, alas! but a tailor from Bosnia, who had come on a speculation to
Cettigna. A barren profession his, where fashions remain the same
summer and winter, and a suit lasts till it drops off. He was an
accomplished musician, as well, on the one-stringed instrument;
boasted of a white pocket-handkerchief, and his Italian, added to our
Servian, made up about twelve words in common; so that the evening
passed very sociably, and we retired to rest full of hope for the
morrow. But when that morrow came, one melancholy prospect of rain and
mist presented itself. The white clouds hung on the mountain-tops
immediately above. Not a breath of wind was stirring, and the rain
descended in torrents. There seemed not a chance of its clearing, nor
did it during the whole day. It was not, therefore, considered prudent
to proceed, where no bed was to be fo