BY

REV. W. DENTON, M.A.

CHAPTER THE NINTH.

DOBROWITZ—COUNTRY ROUND POSHAREWATZ—NATIONAL COSTUME OF MEN—FIRE-ARMS—SINGULAR CUSTOM OF WOMEN—FLY WHICH ATTACKS CATTLE—SWILAINATZ—STOJAN PETROVICH—FARMHOUSE—SERVIAN COOKERY—MILITZA—MEDVEDJE—VILLAGE PARLIAMENT—MANASSIA

Armed with the letter of the Archbishop of Belgrade commending me to all and several “the clergy throughout Servia,” I soon, after my return from Maidanpek, set out upon an excursion into the interior, with the intention of visiting the monasteries of Studenitza, Ravanitza, and Manassia. The first of these, however, which is close to the southern frontier of Servia, and in the midst of a very inaccessible country, I was not able to reach, and had to content myself with the sight of the two others. In this journey I was fortunate enough to secure as my companion a Servian gentleman of good connexions, and possessing a most extensive acquaintance in all parts of the country. My companion proved a most agreeable and intelligent fellow-traveller, cordially entering into my views, and doing his utmost to assist me.

We left Belgrade by the Austrian steamer which was bound for Bazias and the mouth of the Danube, but which would put us out at Dobrowitz, a short distance to the east of the Morava. From the quantity of goods and the passengers on board who were to land at the same place as ourselves, I anticipated that Dobrowitz would turn out to be a town of some importance and magnitude. It resembled, however, some of the new cities, with classical names, in the north-western States of America, where the plans on paper of the edifices, to be hereafter built, are the only signs, and these not always prophetic ones, of the future city. When we reached Dobrowits, the goods and passengers were landed on the mud bank of the river, and all that could be seen of the town was a wooden shed for shelter from the sun and rain, a box of the same material for the accommodation of a booking-clerk, and a kind of tavern for the use of the hungry and thirsty amongst ourselves, About a dozen light waggons, however, stood ready to be hired ; and it was evident from the quantity of the goods which were put out on the river bank, that this is a place of some importance, and the entrepot for the towns and villages in the neighbourhood. In my journeys in various directions, I had never been particular as to the character of my equipage; but in this instance my companion felt that some regard was due to the reputation of his country; and as the only wagon which we were able to hire at Dobrowitz was very fragile, very uncomfortable, and, added to this, very disreputable in appearance, we only engaged it to carry us a few miles on our way as far as Posherawatz. The road between Dobrowitz and this place was of the same half-cleared, half cultivated character as that which we had passed over a few days before in our drive from Posherawatz to Semandria.

At Posherawatz we stayed until we could procure another waggon to take us to Swilainatz. The charge made for a waggon for a day’s journey is fifty piastres, or about eight shillings English. This includes the payment at the end of the journey for the driver; and as there are no turnpikes in Servia, it represents the whole expense of travelling. With this sum a driver is well contented; and when I handed the money to our own driver at the end of the day’s journey, the way in which he thanked me by kissing my hand seemed to be a proof that I was not supposed to have behaved illiberally towards him. The road from Posherawatz for the first twenty miles, and as far as Oreowatz, runs through an almost continuous street of cottages. It was very seldom that we had not in sight at the same time half a dozen of these houses ; thrown a little back from the road, and each surrounded by its inclosure of vegetables and flowers. To the right was a long sweep of rich pasturage, running down to the Morava; and though the river was beyond the reach of our eyes, the course of it was marked by the line of timber trees on its banks, and by the range of hills beyond. These meadows were full of cattle, and were still dotted over with the remains of the forest, which at no very remote date must have covered the whole face of the country. On the left hand was a gentle range of hills, mostly cleared and under cultivation, or in the process of being cleared, with just a sufficient space of level ground interposed between the hillside and the roadway to allow of the fringe of cottages which gave animation to the whole scene. The wells and fountains were planted thick along this line of road; and as it was late in the afternoon or early in the evening when ‘we passed over the greater part of the way, we found these places surrounded by groups of women and girls engaged in the feminine occupation of drawing water, or seated on the brink of the well or on some convenient stone gossiping with their neighbours,
whilst

“The bucket hung suspended in the middle of the well.”

The scene was very Oriental, and the dress of the women brought back the remembrance of pictures of Eastern life, and the going forth at eventide to draw water for the cattle and the household to which such frequent reference is made in Holy Scripture. Nor was it only the poorer classes and the peasant women who were thus employed ; oftentimes we met water bearers, with their jars hung at either end of the short pole which they carried across their shoulder—tall, comely, well-proportioned girls, evidently of superior rank, with their dark hair carefully braided and arranged in broad bands across their foreheads, and though barefooted, adored with earrings, necklaces of gold coin, and heavy bracelets, and looking what a patriarch’s daughters of the olden time might have been.

Whilst delaying at Posherawatz until we could procure a more respectable-looking wagon for the rest of our joumey, my companion met many of his friends who were returning to the village, which we hoped to reach before nightfall Several of these he had not met for some time, and it was strange to see with what solemn affection—middl-eaged, moustached man as he was—he embraced and kissed his old companions, from grey-headed farmers to young lads in their teens. This public salutation is far more common amongst male friends than amongst female ones, and marks the degree and intimacy of the friendship. It is the mark and recognition of brotherhood; not merely of the tie of blood relationship, but of that choice which a man makes, and of the compact, whether formal or only tacitly implied, for mutual assistance between friends, which is a peculiar feature of the Sclavonic race. One of these friends of my companion, a young trader from Swilainatz, was accommodated with a seat in our waggon; and as our journey together was one of some hours, during which time he sat directly opposite to me, and as he wore the national costume, I will try and describe my friend Milan’s dress, in order to give some idea of the costume of men in general throughout Servia.

On his head he wore small skull-cap of red cloth, with black silk tassel pendant from the top. A magenta and white tie, over which fell the collar of his shirt, was lightly fastened round his neck. Enough of the shirtfront was visible above the vest to show that it was tastefully embroidered. The vest itself, which had wide sleeves, was made of a stuff of dark blue relieved by a white stripe. Over this was worn a jacket of fine purple cloth lined with fur, although the heat of the sun made travelling very oppressive to me. A wide sash of silk, ornamented with gold threads, was worn over the real girdle, which was of several folds of red leather. In this, on the left side, he carried a loaded pistol, richly ornamented in the handle, and apart from it a ramrod, ending in a knob of black horn, studded with pieces of brass. In his girdle, on the right side, he wore a gold watch, with a massive chain of the same material, set off with the usual little trinkets; an embroidered cartridge-box; a bag of eather for the tobacco; and under all these a small dirk or knife. His trousers, of knickerbocker fashion, of a different shade of purple from his jacket, were confined at the knees by red garters, and ended in fa heavy and deep piece of embroidery of black braid, which fell over the instep, and, by its weight, made the ends of the trousers set close to his boots. On meeting him again at Swilainatz, when he had changed his boots for slippers, I saw that his stockings were figured with red and black, the favourite colours of all orders in Servia. By his side he carried a double-barrelled rifle, with damascened steel barrels, carefully covered up with a handsome case of Russian leather. Milan looked, it may be, somewhat of a dandy; and the crisp curls which shaded his brown face were evidently arranged with some care, and betokened a consciousness on the part of my good-tempered friend that he was also good-looking. His dress, however, is a fair average specimen of a Servian shopkeeper or merchant when on & visit of friendship—jauntily put on, arranged with care and with a view to effect, but not differing from that usually worn by persons of his position in life. During our journey he occasionally indulged in firing off his pistols, and amused him- self with noting the sudden plunge of the startled ponies. This and repeated delays at the little taverns on the roadside, secondarily to bait the ponies, but primarily to procure small—very small—glasses of raki, and the making and smoking little cigarettes of mild Turkish tobacco rolled in tissue paper, constituted Milan’s occupation during the journey. I say “making and smoking,” for these seemed to take up an equal portion of time. A few days afterwards I was glad to meet him again, when stopping for a short time at Kjuprija; but he was then dividing his time between the tavern and the court of the prefect, awaiting the slow progress of a lawsuit, and was dressed in leas taste, in the unpicturesque dress of Western Europe— in a surtout and waistcoat, which would have passed muster in Paris or London.

In most other countries this almost universal practice of bearing arms would lead to frequent accidents, or be attended with danger in momenta of passion. This, however, I am assured, is rarely the case in this country. In the first place, the perfect familiarity which every Servian has from his childhood with the use of firearms, prevents those frequent accidents of which ignoance, even more than carelessness, is amongst us the cause. In the second place, the temper of this people is not a passionate one. Capable of the greatest amount of endurance in carrying out his plans, the Servian is not soon aroused, and crimes and murders arising from revenge are rare. There are probably more murders committed in London in one year than in the whole of Servia in ten.

At first sight, the constant practice of wearing arms might seem to denote an insecure state of society. This, however, is not the case. Arms are not worn from any such feeling. During the whole time of the occupation of the country by the Turks, fire-arms were strictly forbidden to the inhabitants of the subjugated provinces, It was the badge of their subjection. The rigidity with which this law was enforced increased as the consciousness of the growing strength of their Christian subjects was made evident to the governors. Arms, therefore, became not only the means by which their independence was to be secured, but are also the outward tokens of deliverance from the Turkish yoke. The permission to bear arms was pertinaciously insisted on by the Christian subjects, and as pertinaciously refused by their Mussulman masters; and then the virtual independence of Servia was secured, the carrying arms became like the bearing a distinct flag, a mark of national freedom—cherished all the more from the difficulty with which the right had been obtained. The practice now, after thirty years of liberty, is less strictly adhered to; and with the growing sense of security from any chance of the return of the days of Turkish oppression, the constant wearing of firearms will, no doubt, be gradually discontinued. The time, however, has not yet arrived when this can be safely done. The Court of Constantinople has sufficient allies amongst the great Powers of Europe to whom the substantial liberties of Servia, the simplest privileges of the Christian subject, the common rights of humanity, are as nothing compared with the chimera of maintain ing what is called the integrity of the Turkish empire. Whilst this is the case, the pistols which now decorate his girdle, and the rifle which hangs in his bedroom, cannot safely be parted with; and the Servian must be content, so long as he is surrounded by the watchful and vindictive hosts of his old oppressors, to “keep his powder dry,” and to maintain the right and perfect himself in the use of his arms.

In passing through Servia, the traveller will not fail to notice a singular custom amongst the women. During our drive from Posherawatz to Swilainats in the afternoon, and especially in the cool of the evening, we constantly met, or were passed by, groups of peasants returning from their labour in the fields and going homeward: peasant men and women—fathers and mothers with their daughters, the latter plying the distaff as they chatted together. Many of these groups, from time to time, crossed the road along which our waggon was driving. If the direction in which they were going led across our path and in front of our waggon, the men invariably pursued their way; the women a8 invariably remained until we had passed, and then crossed behind us, There was no aversion to being seen, or even to meeting us; their care only extended to not crossing the path of the traveller until he had gone by. Of this custom I could learn nothing, save that it was the custom in Servia. It is one which, in travelling into the interior, I never saw broken through.

And now, as sunset was approaching, all along the valley of the Ressava and the Morava, the existence of a considerable number of fires was made evident by the small wreaths of smoke which were seen curling over the tops of the trees, and from the midst of the homesteads on every side. From the end of March until the first week in June, the time of sunset is marked by the simultaneous lighting of these fires. During that time the valleys of most of the rivers in Servia are infested with a small fly,¹ which attacks the nostrils of cattle ; and causing almost instant death, would, but for this precaution, be very destructive to the herdsmen. It has been found that the fly is
seared away either by the fire or smoke, and hence all these fires, which at first sight puzzle the traveller.

Between eight and nine o’clock in the evening we reached Swilainats, where we were to pass the night. Our destination was the house of a gentleman farmer, the brother-in-law of my fellow-traveller. Swilsinatz is a town, or large village, with population of nearly three thousand inhabitants, and is situated on the banks of the little river Ressava, famous in Servian song. The main street presents much the same features as the streets of Posherawats, though on a smaller scale. The shops run along the whole front of the houses, which, however, have more frequently a second story than in many other towns and villages of the interior, but resemble these others in their temporary or booth-like appearance. In the middle of the village is a large well, with the usual enormous lever for raising the water; and by the side of this stands the only lamp—at least, the only efficient one—in the village. On walking through the streets next morning, I found that the front of all the shops had been decorated, in honour
of St. George, with green boughs, which, however, in their dry and decayed state, looked anything rather than an ornament to the place.

Stojan Petrovitch, at whose house I was lodged, is the son of one of the best known and most respected of the country gentry of Servia. The father, who has been dead for several years, was an active member of the Senate, and the governor of the department in which Swilainats is situated. His widow, the mother of my host, still survives, and occupies the family mansion, which adjoins the farmhouse of her son. Unfortunately, she was absent at the time of my visit, having passed us on her way to Belgrade, from which we had that morning set out. The house in which she resides is a spacious and comfortable dwelling, and from being mostly of one story, occupies a considerable space of ground. It contains several portraits of Servian patriots, the statesmen and heroes of the War of Independence, of no great value as works of art, however successful they may be in preserving the likenesses of the men whose names they bear. To their late govemor, the fathor of my host, whote tomb is a conspicuous object in the churchyard, the people of the village are indebted for their church, which stands in a convenient and commanding position near the Ressava, and at the entrance of the village. When a church is needed in a parish, the whole of the inhabitants are required to supply tho materials, and are assessed to pay the wages of the labourers; but when, soon after the deliverance of the country from the Turkish yoke, the parish vestry, as we should call it, had mot for the purpose of building a church, the governor undertook, at his own cost, to defray the chief part of the expense, the wages of the workpeople.

Like almost all the country-houses in the interior, and, indeed, like the Iarger shops in the towns, the house to which I was warmly welcomed is built on the four sides of a square. The chief apartments are toward the street, and occupy one side; on the other sides are the Kitchen and rooms for the servants, and the other domestic offices; and separated from the rest by a doorway, the farm buildings and mill. Close to this, which is properly the farmhouse attached to the family mansion, are spacious kitchen and flower gardens. Immediately in the rear of these buildings the river cuts a deep chanpel through the soil, and winding deviously round great part of the farmstead, separates the dwelling-house from a great portion of the out-buildings, the stables, coach-house, and barns. These, again, are connected with the rest of the offices by several rustic bridges. The view from the porch to the back of the house is very fine, the eye ranging over a well-cultivated and gently-undulating ground, till it rests on the grand outline of the Oom mountains, which rise only a few miles from Swilainatz. Our visit was unexpected; and it can be no light trial for a man, just when his whole household are preparing for bed, to be disturbed by strangers, for whom the best bedrooms are to be at once prepared, and a supper extemporized. We were, however, very hospitably received. If we inconvenienced anybody, there was no trace of the fact in the hearty countenance of my host, who gave a welcome which it required no words to translate to me.

When we arrived, the supper of the master had just been finished, and the maids and farm-servants were about to occupy the board from which he had risen. By the time, however, we were ready for our own supper, the table had been replenished. It was spread under one of the windows of the house, and in the open air. Before we could take our seat at the table, the servants waited upon each of us with an ewer and basin, pouring over our hands a grateful stream of cold water whilst we washed them. Then, not as a part of the supper, or with any reference to food, but aс a mode—and a very pleasing mode—of telling us we were welcome, came the invariable tray of sweetmеаts, delicious syrup of roses, flavoured with strawberries, and small glasses of raki. “The supper which followed was my first real Servian meal. At Belgrade I had met with German dishes at the hotel, or French ones aтtthe table of my hospitable friend, M. B—, and his family ; or a repast half-French and half-English—the elegance of one and the solidity of the other—with Mr. Longworth, our Consul-general. Indeed, from the difficulty of procuring Servian servants, and the almost necessity which exists for importing them from Hungary or Germany, it is seldom that the traveller will meet with genuine Servian cookery in the large riverein towns of this country. Ignorance begets distrust; so that when my friends knew of my intention to penetrate into the interior, they represented in lively colours the alternative to which I should be exposed—starvation or Servian cookery; and pressed upon me the absolute necessity of providing myself with French or German cooked food. This, however, was an insult to the country in which I was travelling, of which I was determined not to be guilty; nor did I regret my determination. It will be found, I believe, that if Servian dishes are not at the first as palatable as French ones, yet that they are more wholesome, They retain far more of the natural flavour of the meat, or other material from which they are made, than is generally the case with Parisian dishes.

I have not ventured to obtrude many culinary or gastronomic observations, because, in truth, I feel that I am incompetent to speak of such matters; and any remarks which I might make would be but a confession of my ignorance of the mysteries of the kitchen. I may, however, be allowed to say a word or two upon such simple Servian dishes a are always occurring. The traveller, then, whether on visit to a family in Servia or staying at an inn, will almost to a certainty be served with sour soup—that is, with soup flavoured with lemon-juice—and perhaps thickened, as was the case at Swilainatz, with champillons shred into it. Then will come forced meats, or rissoles, dressed in vine leaves or mixed with raisins, followed by a more substantial dish either of Iamb or mutton, according to the season. The bread will be of the same dark and sour description to which he has been accustomed in Germany, unless he be fortunate enough to meet with maize bread, which is sweet and agreeable, but is generally rejected as being of too heating a nature to be wholesome. Should a ham make its appearance, he will find it well flavoured, and partaking of all the excellency of wild boar. By the side of one dish or another, but most likely with a plate of soft cheese, will be laid two or three very strong green onions; and the whole meal will invariably close with two eggs, just warmed—and barely warmed through in fact, raw—which, if careful to follow the practice of the country, he should suck, Good Negotin or some similar wine, of a bright rose-colour, will be placed on the table in decanters holding half a gallon, to be taken—as, indeed, the size would indicate—ad libitum, and with this a small glass or two of raki or slivovitza.

Between fatigue and overhunger, as I had scarcely tasted anything since dining the day before, in our Consul’s garden overlooking the Save; and weakened as I was by the remains of a sharp attack of fever which I had had two days before leaving Belgrade, I confess that I was able to render but scant justice to all the abundant fare which was spread before me, I was more anxious for rest than for food, and was shown into the sleeping-room which had been prepared for me. This, like all the other parts of the house, was on the ground, and the bed on which I soon slept soundly was spread upon the floor of the apartment. Before sleeping, however, I was able to take note of the few but characteristic articles of furniture or decoration in this the guest-chamber of the house. On two sides of the room was that most convenient and luxurious arrangement, a divan. On the walls were handsome pistols, a short rife, cartridge-boxes, and a yataghan, This was all Oriental. A table, washhand-stand, and looking-glass, were concessions to Western taste and necessity. The one large window, guiltless of any kind of blind, looked out into the courtyard which I had just left; but this publicity was of very little moment to a tired traveller. The candle which was given me was utterly superfluous, as, with a-fall moon of most wondrous clearness, the difficulty was how to shut out the light. This apartment, I afterwards learnt, had, two or three years ago, been occupied by the late Prince Milosh in the Iast progress made by him into the interior of Servia.

However fatigued I might have felt over-night, it was impossible to obtain any sleep after four o’clock in the next morning. The cooing of the doves, the barking of the dogs, the lowing of the cows, and all the other varied clamours of a busy farmyard, effectually woke me from my slumber, and all inclination to sleep was driven away by the jangle of the church bells, which, at five o’clock in the morning—it was Sunday—began to make themselves heard. I soon commenced dressing; but, before I had fairly finished, my room-door was swung open, and sans cérémonie in marched Militza, the housemaid, with the ewer and bason, and by signs informed me that she had come to assist me in washing my hands. Demure as an Eastern sage, my pretty attendant performed her duties in this respect, and then, as I was shaving, brought me comb, brushes, scented oil, and all other things necessary to enable me to finish my toilet. Whilst this was going on, my host was submitting himself to the hands of one of his farm-servants, who was employed in smoothing his master’s chin. A Servian rarely shaves himself, but prefers the services of a barber.

In the yard I found waiting for me a cup of café au lait—if it be not a misnomer to speak so of a cup of coffee which was thickened with most delicious cream—and slices of toast ; and after the early morning service was over in the village church, I was ready to set out upon a visit to the monastery of Manassia, situated about twelve miles from Swilainatz, However, as is usually the case with early travellers, my haste was all thrown away. When the waggon in which we were to journey was brought to the door, it was found that one of the ponies absolutely required a new shoe, and that two of those on the other pony were in a most suspicious state of insecurity, so that it was past eight o’clock before we commenced our journey.

The route from Swilainatz to Manassia passes for the first eight or nine miles over a very good road, constructed at the cost of Kara Alexander, and kept in it present efficient, repair at the expense of the district, or, as we should say, of the parishes, through which it passes. The scenery in this part of the journey is very fine: in the foreground was a pretty river, broken into three or four little streams, spanned by small watermills; whilst, in the background, stretched a range of hills with well-cultivated slopes, overtopped by more distant and loftier ranges, dotted here and there with large patches of old forest, where the staple wealth of Servia—herds of pigs—range in almost primitive wildness. The number of mills which cluster along the banks of these streams, wherever a sufficient body of water can be found to tum the wheels, gives a favourable idea of the extent of corn cultivation. On our return from the monastery on the following day, I went into two or three of these mills. They are all moved by wheels fixed horizontally, and not vertically as with us; and are, therefore, not dependent so much upon the volume of water by which they are turned as by the force of the stream that can be impinged against them, Most of the farms which are of any magnitude have one or more of these mills as parts of the farm-buildings; but sometimes they are rented without any and attached. The rent received by the proprietor of an ordinary mill is about sixty pounds per annum—good sum in a country where the prefect and mayor of a village, each of them, subsists on a yearly salary equivalent to some eighty-five pounds.

A drive of about an hour and a half brought us to the village of Medvedje, where we found the parish priest—the service in the church having been over more than two hours before—seated under the far-projecting roof of a little tavern, and engaged in explaining to his flock the provisions of bill, as we should call it, then before the Skoupschina, or Servian Parliament, for an alteration in the law of assessment to the public service. The main feature of the new bill was, that it proposed to lighten the amount of taxes to be paid by the classes which had been hitherto the sole contributors to the revenue of the country; but by enlarging the area of taxation, to maintain, or perhaps to increase, the whole sum received by the Treasury. In order that the wishes and sentiments of the people should be made known, the Government had directed the various parish priests throughout the country to assemble their parishioners, and invite a discussion on the proposed alteration. When we drove up to tho inn-door, the
pastor or pope of Medvedje was engaged in reading the proposed enactments clause by clause. An animated and very creditably conducted debate on the part of the people then ensued, and the opinions of the village parliament appeared to be much divided as to the prospective advantages of the new bill. On the whole, however, it seemed to me that the proposed scheme of the Ministry of Prince Michel was regarded with disfavour by the majority of the community. At least, the villagers of Medvedje, which probably comprised a larger proportion than some other districts of hitherto non-paying members, were not disposed to acquiesce in the alteration of the law, which would deprive them for the future of exemption from taxation. Of course, it is impossible to please those who feel the constant pressure of a direct tax, but it must be owned that the temper and ability with which the bill was discussed by the Medvedjean Parliament was very creditable to them, and might advantageously be imitated in larger popular assemblies.

Though the village of Medvodje does not, so far as I know, appear in any map—at any rate, it is not marked in Kiepert’s map, which I carried with me—it lies about equal distances from Swilainatz and the monastery of Manassia, on the cross road which leads to towns and villages in four different directions. The village itself seems to have grown out of the necessities of such a position, and consists largely of small taverns and eating-houses, mingled with the homes of labourers and small cottage proprietors. For their needs a church was Just about to be erected. The ground had been cleared, and the stone for building had been collected and brought to the spot, by the various inhabitants, and a small assessment on real property would soon supply the means for paying the workmen. Judging from what I saw in the course of my rambles, there must be a considerable amount of church-building going on in Servia. My travelling led me through thinly-peopled and rural districts more than through towns and amongst a concentrated population; yet merely taking account of those which were building by the road-side, there seemed to tbe every disposition on the part of the people to supply themselves with churches adequate to the population. Indeed, a monk with whom I had an interesting conversation on the state of the Church in Servia, whilst Iamenting that so many persons neglected the service of the Church, yet added, what might well be the confession of other priests than those of this country, “The people are ready enough to build churches, and are willing to die for their religion at any time, but it is not so easy to get them to come to church.” There is
great truth, no doubt, in these words; but the difficulty, as I assured the monk, was not altogether and solely Servian one. In the present case it may perhaps be a satisfaction to sermon-writers to know that the disinclination does not arise either from the length or the quality of the sermons, as people are but little troubled
with preaching in the orthodox Church—at any rate, in this part of it.

At this village we left the main road along which we had hitherto travelled, and for the rest of our journey made our way, to the sore affliction of my fellow-traveller and to our mutual discomfort, over what, on the whole, resembled the gateway of a ploughed field, in a stiff clayey soil, where ruts crossing ruts at every possible angle makes as lively a picture of chaos as can well be seen. Let the reader imagine ground like this, baked hard by the sun, and he will obtain some idea of the remainder of the way which we had to traverse. After some miles, not of road, for road there was none, but of the journey, we arrived at the outpost to the monastery, half a dozen cottages for labourers, clustered round the monastic mill, which was in full work, under the superintendence of the monk who, in the absence of the Hegumon, was in charge of the
monastery—a good-tempered, well-informed, gentlemanly man, with very little of the monk about him, save his frock. Indeed, as the fashionable chain of his gold watch fell across his girdle, it was hard to realize the fact that we were talking to an Eastern monk.

A drive of two or three miles beyond the mill brought us to the mouth of the gorge in which is situated the monastery of Manassia.

1. The Simulium reptans of the naturalist. ↩︎