een in Scutari in
December. He told us that after dark it was impossible to walk down the
great main street, which divides Christian from Turk, without carrying a
lighted lantern to signal that you were not on nefarious intent, or you
might be shot.

[Illustration: CHRISTIAN WOMEN HIDING FROM THE PHOTOGRAPHER.]

[Illustration: SCUTARI--BAZAAR AND OLD VENETIAN FORTRESS.]

Mr. Suma came along the next day in good time and gave Jan a letter for
the Count de Salis. We bade him a most cordial farewell, assuring him
prophetically that we should revisit Scutari--little did we dream in
what circumstances,--and he said we would then see the "Maison Pigit," a
show castle which he had, in vain, urged us to visit. Paget was an
Englishman who seems to have spent ten or twelve years dreaming away
life in Scutari, and collecting ancient weapons. With the outbreak of
the South African war he disappeared. He was then heard of fighting for
the Turk against the Italian, and later for the Turk against the Balkan
alliance. He has never returned.

With Dr. Ob we drove to the quay, on the road passing an old woman
staggering along beneath the weight of a complete iron and brass
bedstead.

As we got out of our carriage we noticed a rabble of Turks hurrying
towards us. In its midst was a brougham with windows tight shut and
veiled, from which we guessed that some light of the harem was to be a
fellow passenger. The carriage halted, and whatever was within was
hustled from the farthest door and in the midst of the dense mob of men
hurried down the quay. The side of the steamer was crowded with craft,
so we passed beneath the stern to embark on the far side, to find that
the Turkish lady and her escort had passed beneath the bows for a
similar purpose. We caused a flutter, the beauty was hastily lifted on
board like a bale of goods, and we caught a glimpse of magnificent pink
brocaded trousers and jewelled shoes beneath her red orange covering.
Two women--one a Christian--followed, and when she was seated, bent over
her as a sort of screen to hide even her clothes from the gaze of the
naughty infidel.

Governor Petrovitch came down to the quay to bid us good-bye. With him
came his daughter, who was returning with us. She had nothing
interesting to say about Scutari. The Frenchman had brought with him a
cook whom he had engaged to look after his digestion.

We found comfortable seats on a long box with a bale as a back rest, and
the gover