pushed behind for ever.

The mayor was a pleasant fellow, speaking French, and he confided in us
that he was suffering from a "maladie d'estomac." When we thought we had
sympathized enough, we asked him how far it was, and could we have
horses to go to Petch. He answered that it was two days, or rather one
and a half, and that the horses would await us at twelve on the
following day. We went to bed early to make up for last night, but Jan,
having felt rather tickly all day, hunted the corners of his shirt and
found--dare we mention it--a louse, souvenir de Lieva Rieka.

As we were breakfasting next day our driver, who had been most
unpleasant the whole time, sidled up and asked Jan to sign a paper.
While Jan was doing so the driver burst into a volley of explanations.
We thought that he was asking for a tip, but made out that he had lost
(or gambled) the ten kronen which his employer had given to him for
expenses. We had intended to give him no tip, for on the yesterday he
had refused to carry our bags, but this made us waver. We asked Mr. Rad,
etc., what we should do.

"Sign his paper," he answered gruffly, "and kick him out; he's only a
dirty Turk anyhow."

The mayor sent our horses round early; but we stuck to our decision to
start in the afternoon, and ordered lunch at twelve. There was a huge
crowd gathered in front of the inn, and we saw that the Pasha and his
harem were off. One wife wore a blue furniture cover over her, one a
green, and one a brown, so that he might know them apart from the
outside, for they all had heavy black veils before their faces. The
Pasha himself seemed rather a decent fellow, and had much of the air of
a curate conducting a school feast. Four children were thrust into two
baskets which were slung on each side of one small horse, and various
furniture, including a small bath (or large basin), was strapped on to
others, and the Pasha followed by his wives set off walking, the Pasha
occasionally throwing a graceful remark behind him.

The mayor lunched with us, and for a man who has, as he says, anaemia of
the stomach, chronic dysentery, and inflammation of the intestines, he
ate most freely, and if such is his daily habit, he deserved all he had
got.

Our guide was the most picturesque we have yet had. He was an Albanian
with a shaven poll save for a tuft by which the angels will one day lift
him to heaven, small white cap like a saucer, over which was wound a
twisted dirty white s