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Full text of "Motoring in the Balkans along the highways of Dalmatia, Montenegro, the Herzegovina and Bosnia"

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Motoring in the Balkans along the 
high ways of Dalmatia, . . . 

Frances Kinsley Hutchinson 



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MOTORING IN THE BALKANS 



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MOTORING IN THE BALKANS 



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By Mrs. Hutchinson 

OUR COUNTRY HOME: 
How Wb Transformed a 
Wisconsin Wildbrnbss. 
With over loo illastrationt. 
Second edition. Small 
qaarto, boxed, net $3xx). 

A. C McClurg & Co. 
Publithen 



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H. R. H. PRINCE NICOLA I. RE'IURNIN(; FROM CHURCH 



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MOTORING IN THE 
BALKANS 

ALONG THE HIGHWAYS OF 

DALMATIA, MONTENEGRO, THE 

HERZEGOVINA AND BOSNIA 



BY , 

FRANCES KINSLEYJIUTCHINSON n^^l-\'^l(>\ 
AoTBOR OF "Our oSmnvt Homb" 



WtTB MAP AND OVER ONE HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS 
FROM PHOTOGRAPHS BY THE AUTHOR 



CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

1909 



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COPYIUOIIT 

A. c. McCLURG at ca 
1909 

Pablithed September 181 1009 



R. R. DOMMBLLBY * SONS COMPAMY 
CHICAOO 



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i INDBTATIOABLB TftAVBLBK, THB WILL INFORMBD 
SlOHT-flBBS, THB BMTHUSIASTIC MOTORIST 
BTSN AT THX AOB OF BIGHTY, 
TM18 RSCORD 18 AFTICTIONATBLY IN8C»lBSO 



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CONTENTS 



I. Plans and Pkeuminaues 17 

IL Trieste to Abbazia 27 

III. Abbazia to Zenoo 38 

IV. Zengo to Gospid — OvEE THE Vratnik Pass 47 
V. Entebino Dalmatia — Gospid to Zara 58 

VI. Zaba 66 

VII. ScAKDONA — Falls of Kbka— Sebenico 79 

Vni. Sebenico via TEAtt to Spalato • • . . 95 

DC Spalato 105 

X. Salona — Clissa — Source of the Jadro . 116 

XI. Spalato to Metkovic 133 

XII. Metkovic to Raousa 137 

Xni. Raousa 145 

XIV. Raousa — Lacroica — Lapad • iSS 

XV. Raousa 164 

XVI. Raousa to Zelenika 175 

XVII. S^ELENIKA 183 

XVIII. Entering Montenegro 189 

XIX. CeTINJE ........ 30I 

XX. Back into Dalmatia an 

XXI. Entering the Herzegovina — Ragusa to Gacko 

VIA TREBINJE 323 

XXII. Gacko to Mostar — Source of the Buna . . 233 

XXIII. Mostar 342 

XXIV. Mostar to Sarajevo 351 

XXV. luDZE TO Jajce via Travnik .264 

XXVI- Jajce 376 

XXVII. Jajce to Banjaluka — On to Bosnisch-Novi . 385 

XXVIII. Leaving Bosnia — Putvica Lakes -295 

XXIX. To Agram and Marburg 306 

XXX. Marburg — Gratz — The Sehhering . . 317 

Index 337 

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ILLUSTRATIONS 

H. R. H. PumcbNiooila I. Rsturnino fiom CRxmca, Cstinjs FroniisfUce 

Caioo-boats noM Chxoooia aa 

Thb Canal Grandb, Tkostb aa 

Thx Rotal Pakk of MnuufAit, nbai Trustk a3 

Thb Mail Cakxhr's Hoisk, nxar Pasjax 30 

A Nativb or AxBB AT Abbazia 31 

Thb Watbk BucKBT or TsBSB Slavic C0UNTKZB8 31 

Thb HoTBL AT Cbbvbnica 40 

YOOHO WOHBN WOBKOrO DC QVABBT NBAS CbKVBNICA . . . 41 

In Thb Mabxbt-placb, Zaba 68 

Thb Babkbib abb BBAunruL nc Zaba 68 

Thb Riva Vbochia* Zaba 69 

A Typical Costumb, Scabdona 84 

A Bbiluamt Cbowd^ Scabdona 85 

T&B FBbbt acbobb thb Kbka 85 

In thb Mabxbt-placb, Sbbbnioo .90 

T&B Rows or Hbaos oh thb Catbbdbal Apsb, Sbbbnioo ... 91 

Thb Plbasant-lookino Lions at thb Cathbdbal Door, Sbbbnioo . 91 

T&B StoMT Road to Tbai^ 100 

Such Tint CafsI 100 

T&B LiTXLB Km loi 

DfOCLBTiAN's Palacb, Main Pofodi, Sfalato . Z08 

COBBIDOBS COMVBBTBD INTO STBBBTS, SfaLATO IO9 

liABKBIOfO IN SFALATO I18 

F(«TBBM or CUSSA, NBAB SpALATO II9 

COUNTBTWOHBN Of MbTBOVIC 134 

With What Splbndid FIkbbdom Shb WalksI (Raousa) • i^S 

Thb Gbbbn Omnibus to Gbavoba 146 

Thb Pobta Pils, Raousa 146 

Thb Stbips or Stbbbts, Raousa 147 

A Typical Shop cm thb Stbadonb, Raousa 147 

Hbbzboovinian Wohbn Shoppino in Raousa 156 

Thb Old Habbob, Pobto Casbon, Raousa 157 

PiBBO THB Gull, Raousa 166 

A Dalmatian Funbbal, Raousa 167 

Thb lioAT CcmvBBiBD into a Pabk, Raousa 176 

Thb Hotbl Squabb on thb Post or Mat, Raousa . -177 

TkB HOIXL AT Zblbnika 184 

TIlibd Rock Stbata at 2:blbnika 185 

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ILLUSTRATIONS— CONTINUED 

ClOSBOtO TBS BOOCBB I99 

11UTQUXBB,Gl0AllTIC,AN0ULARWiniN00NTBXFACB0PTBXM0UHTAIN [93 

''IinnviDnAL'* Haxbobs on the Shoues op thx Boochs 194 

BoocHB Di Cattaio psom Grotto op Kkbtac 195 

T&s Road to Montxmigso 198 

T&s Horn, at Njsoin, MomsifBOio 199 

Cbtimtb fiom the Houl Wimdow 199 

h. r. h. pumcb nioola i., tbs rulbe of montbiffbobo ... 304 

H. R. H. PRINCB88 MiLtNA, COIOOKT OP PUMCB NiCOLA I. .205 

T&s Steuka ao6 

MoMTXNXOiDf Oppicbis ao; 

T&B Royal Palace, Cethijb aia 

T&B pBQfCB'a EaooKT, Cetinje 2x3 

Tbe GovEBmcBNT Baroe 318 

At Castbuioovo 919 

T&B YouitoEE Gembeation ase AixtfTDio European Clothes, Trebinjb a24 

Tbe Crowd at Bilex aas 

A P1CTUEE8QUB Couple, Biles aaS 

Tkey Disappbar down the Long Road aaS 

T&B Garage at Gacso 229 

Source op the Buna 338 

Tbe Bridob at Mostar 239 

HEBZEOOVDIIAN CaTBOUCS, MO8TAR 248 

After Service at tbe Franciscan Churcb, Mostar .... 249 

Tbe Men arb Equally Picturesque, Mostar 249 

Gorge op the Narxnta 252 

An Interesting Group in the Narxnta Valley .... 253 

Hebzegovinian Children, near Jablanica 253 

One op tbe FatesI (On tbe Ivan Pass) 258 

Wooden Spindles in tbe Musbum, Sarajevo 258 

Tbe Pren; Alp 259 

A View in Sarajevo 260 

An U nexpec t e d Meeting. Young Turxisb Girls, Sarajevo . 261 

T&B Hoibl at Iudze 268 

A Typical Country Mosque, near Gromeijax .... 269 

Tbx Paintxd Mosque, Travnix 269 

A Butterfly op a Maidxn, Travnix 270 

Tombs op tbe Viziers, Travnix 271 

Tbe Fountain by tbe TdiiBS, Travnix 271 

T&B Ancient Poplar, near Travnix 27a 

T&B BoGOMiLE Gravestone 272 

A Cbrbtian Family op Bosnia 273 

A Cbrbtian Farmbouse in Bosnia 273 

Tbe Tiny Mills op Jajcb 276 

Tbe Puva above tbe Fall 276 

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ILLUSTRATIONS— CONTINUED 

Tbb Gate or Jajcb fiom thx Outsids 977 

Tbb Same Gaxb wwom the Imsidb 277 

TOXXBB WOMDf OUT FOR TSBIR WSBKLY PROMKMADK, JaJCB . 978 

A Modern Shop at Jajce 979 

At the Entramce to the Franciscan Church, Jajcb ... 980 
In the Marxet-placb after the Sbrvicb, Jajce .980 
The Beaded and EMBRonncRED Coats in Jajce .981 

Brave in Scarlet and Gold 982 

With Com Necklaces and Head-dresses 989 

A Bosnian Couple, Jajce 983 

Pbasanis at hxmcBmoxi, Jajcb 986 

ToRXiSH Children, Jajce 987 

Jajcb to Banjaluka, up the Ureas Valley 988 

The Conscription at Banjaluka 989 

The Oranoe Vender, Banjaluka 990 

A Sheepskin Coat, Banjaluka 991 

A North Bosnian Costume, near Banjaluka 999 

The Cap in the Back 993 

The Cap in the Front 993 

In the Una Valley 996 

A Ruined Castle above the Una 997 

The Futvka Lakbs from our Windows 300 

Omk of the Plitvica Falls 301 

Peasants near Karlovac 310 

A Bosnian Mill 310 

The Church of St. Mark, Aoram 311 

The Market-place, Aoram 319 

Croatian C o unt r yw o men 319 

A Croaiian Peasant 313 

The Iuca, Aoram 318 

A Cboatiam Harness 318 

T^BB Procession at Marburo 319 

The Market-place, Grats 399 

Ar TSE Semmertwo 393 



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ITINERARY AND TABLE OF DISTANCES 



1908 












DATE 


K. 


Mn-RS 


TOWN 


POP. 


HOTEL 


AprU 9 






Teiistk 


183,000 


Hotel db Ville 


xz 


74. a 


46.3 


Abbazia 


16,000 


Grand Hotel Stetani 


IS 






Crkysnica* 




Therapu Palace 


IS 


«3.9 


Sa.4 


Zenoo 




Hotel Zagreb 


16 






G06PIC* 




SvRATiSTm Lisa 


16 


ao6.3 


129. 


2U8A 


i3»«)o 




90 






SCARDONA'^ 




Restaurant Buljan 


90 


X01.5 


635 


SSBXNIOO 


10,000 




ai 






Teau 


3.SOO 




ai 


7a.3 


45. a 


Spalato 


ao,ooo 


Grand Hotel Bbllb- 

VUE 


aa 






Salona 


1,700 




as 






CLI88A 


i,aoo 




«s 






Mbtsovic* 


1,700 


Hotel Austria 


as 


339.6 


149.7 


RAOimA 


8,400 


Imperial 


J/O^ X 


SI. 3 


3a. 






Pension Zinc 
Grunen Strand 


a 


67.9 


42.4 


CxnNjx 


3.000 


Grand 


4 


119. a 


74. S 


Raotoa 


8,400 




7 






TxsBiNjm'^ 


S.000 


Hotel Naouc 


7 


107. 


67. 


Gacko 




<< Meropua 


8 


91.3 


S7. 


UonAR 


14.400 


« Narenta 


XI 






jASLAXaCA* 




*• Jablanica 


II 


125. 


78. 


lUDZB 




'' HUNOARIA 


la 


la. 


7.S 


Sarajevo 


41,000 


*' Europe 


14 






Travnoc* 


6,300 


•• Travnie 


14 


149 


93.6 


JAJCE 


4,000 


Grand 


x8 


72.8 


45 5 


Banjaluka 


iS,ooo 


Bosna 


19 






Novi* 


3.500 


Novi 


19 


157.9 


98.6 


BiHAC 


6,000 


Centrale 


ao 


38.9 


343 






aa 






KASL8TADT* 


6,000 


StadtFiuxe 


aa 


149. 1 


93. a 


AOXAM 


61,000 


Grand 


34 






CiLLI* 


6,700 


Erzherxoo Johanm 


34 


I7S.I 


109.4 


Maxburo 


a6,ooo 


«« «< 


as 






Grats* 


138,000 


Elephant 


*S 


176.8 


no. 9 






Paithans 


a6 


loi.S ^35 
1372.6 K.X483.sm0i 


Vienna i 


,675,000 


Grand 


4Sdays j 


BS 36 towns 




• LoncbeoD. 











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MOTORING 
IN THE BALKANS 



CHAPTER I 

PLANS AND PRELIMINARIES 

"TJOW would you like to go to Dalmatia this year?" 
quietly asked the Leader one rainy evening in early 
Autumn, as we were planning our Winter migration. '^ Dal- 
matia," he said, but other lands beside were in his mind, — 
Montenegro, the Herzegovina, Bosnia, Croatia. He appar- 
ently did not see our startled countenances nor hear our 
explosive comments. 

"Dahnatia!" 

''In an automobile?" 

"Cwwe?" 

Thus in varying pitches the trio simultaneously an- 
swered. 

"Why not?" was the reply. "It is certainly not so far 
away nor so difficult to reach." 

But to me it seemed almost another planet. Dalmatia! 
What strange magic in the name! How remote and Asiatic 
it sounded! What visions of mountain fastnesses and land- 
locked harbors, of curious buildings and primitive peoples, 
danced before my excited fancy! 

I? 



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MOTORING IN THE BALKANS 

"You know that narrow strip of country on the other 
side of the Adriatic, across from Italy!'' I came back to 
a consciousness of my surroundings and the expatiating 
voice of the Leader at the same moment. "It has been a 
favorite coast for yachtsmen during the last century. Zara, 
the most northern city, is about the same distance from 
Trieste as Rimini is — " 

"Yes, by sea," interrupted the Cautious One, "but the 
roads, — are they passable ? Has any one ever tried them ?'' 
For the spirit of the pioneer is strangely absent from our 
small group and some of the comforts of this life have become 
necessities. 

"Are there any road maps?" questioned the Enthusiast 
incredulously. 

"I believe that there are some government maps to be 
had, and the Italian Toiuing Club has also published a 
map of the northern portion of Dalmatia. I am going to 
send over for them. It is difficult to get any information about 
the roads, but as there are few raihx)ads the highways should 
be in so much the better condition. We shall have to in- 
vestigate as we go along, making all possible inquiries from 
place to place; — if for any reason we find otirselves blocked 
we can always tiun back. April and May are the desirable 
months, I hear, as earlier there is too much snow on the 
mountain passes, while later in the year it gets very hot." 

The imcertsdnty of the journey promised to add to our 
interest. 

"But how do we get into Dalmatia? Where do we start 
from?" queried the Enthusiast, always desirous of details. 

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PLANS AND PRELIMINARIES 

"Well," answered the Leader of the expedition, "we 
shall probably go from Paris via Nice, Rapallo, and Spezia; 
Pisa, Siena, and Rome ; Temi, Foligno, Urbino, and Rimini ; 
Ravenna, Padua, Tleviso, Udine, and Trieste; but I cannot 
recommend that as the shortest route!'' 

The Enthusiast was following with her finger on a large 
mi^ of Europe. She reserved her comments, but her looks 
spoke volumes. 

"Trieste, of course, is the natural starting-pcunt,'' went 
on the indefatigable Leader, "but if we cross in January 
we must find a good climate dming February and March. 
The Riviera — " But there was a chorus of disapproval. 
** Oh, no! not the Riviera. It 's far too crowded, too dusty, 
too gay!'' 

"If I should show you a quiet spot on a green hillside," 
composedly proceeded the Leader, "a small hotel in a 
beautiful garden, an apartment where the sun floods every 
room all day long, a cuisine both varied and tempting, would 
the mere fact of its being on the Riviera dissuade you from 
at least trying such a place?" 

We protested oiu: imbelief, but meekly consented to a 
triaL So it happened that in due time we went down to 
Cimiez on the hills above that too-famous winter resort of 
Nice and spent three never-to-be-forgotten weeks exploring 
the winding river valleys, hunting up neglected and half- 
ruined monasteries, discovering (?) splendid gorges and 
many a hill-crowned city, abng those smooth and shady 
highways which make the land of France dear to the heart 
of the motor lover. It was almost as difficult to persuade 

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MOTORING IN THE BALKANS 

us to leave as it had been to induce us to try this bit of 
Paradise, but the days were flying and Dahnatia loomed 
before us. 

We had by this time secured large maps with curiously 
forbidding names printed upon them; "Crkvenica, Otocac, 
Mali Halan, Benkovac, Metkovid, Krka"; — should we ever 
be able to pronounce them? Would they ever become 
familiar and easy? We were reading Mrs. Hohlbach's 
charming book on Dahnatia, and also a French translation 
of a German "Guide to Dahnatia'' by Petermann. This 
last book gave us a few rules on the pronunciation of the 
Serbo-Croatian language with a glossary of the most impor- 
tant words that a traveller might need. When we learned 
that in pronouncing the Slavic names it is only necessary 
to remember four rules, we no longer felt so helpless: ; is 
pronounced like y: c without accent like ts: c with accent 
like tch: the vowek the same as in Italian. We were in- 
formed that in the large towns Italian or German would be 
readily understood and at most of the hoteb English could 
be relied upon, but in the hamlets of the interior and on the 
road only Slavic is used. 

Of our delectable joumeyings from the simny Riviera 
over the mountains to Spezia and across the plain to Pisa; 
of our glance at the famous Delia Robbias of Empoli ; of our 
brief stops at Siena and Viterbo; this is not the place to 
speak. Even Rome, which served this time as a mere 
piedriJ^terre for many a day's excursion, I dare not begin 
upon. Of Cori and Ninfa and Segni, of Palestrina and San 
Cosimato, of the nearer Tivoli and the Alban Hills, my 

30 



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PLANS AND PRELIMINARIES 

enthusiastic descriptions must wait; for Dalmatia is nearer 
than ever and the time has come for us to start. 

Up by the fortress of Civita Castellana, with a look at 
the Cascades of Temi, we pass Nocera, Gualdo Tadino, and 
Caglii cross the Apennines and stop at Urbino, Pesaro, and 
Rimini, having followed the old Via Emilia almost the en- 
tire distance from Rome. Proceeding via Ravenna, Rovigo, 
and Padua; Tteviso, Udine, and Aquileia; at last, on the 
ninth of April, we look down from Obcina upon the great 
seaport of Trieste. 

The combination of old customs and traditions with 
much that is extremely modem makes this city of Austria a 
delight to the tourist. We knew from our faithful Baedeker 
that our hotel here stood upon the quay, but no guide-book 
could prepare one for the fascinating picture which the win- 
dow revealed as we entered ovu: apartment. Black-hulled 
steamers from Palermo, from Dalmatia, from France, Eng- 
land, and even from America, lay at anchor on the glittering 
sea, while bright-hued Venetian boats unloaded their queer 
cargoes at the near embankment. I leaned in ecstasy upon 
the window-sill thoughtfully provided with cushions for 
tired elbows, and watched the changing scene. Freighters 
arrived and trim passenger boats, their masts and yards so 
much more picturesque than the hugp funnels of the modem 
steamer. A ferry from Capodistria came jauntily to the 
dock and unloaded her passengers, who walked ashore with 
brisk, business-like, almost American alertness, apparently 
heedless of the rare and beautiful sight presented by this 
hill-encircled dty, brilliant with the brief simshine of the 

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early Spring. From the distance a big liner signalled with 
flying colorsi calling a tiny tug that slowly guided the monster 
to her berth amidst the moving craft. 

But no steamer, big or little, can compare in pictiuesque- 
ness or in grace with the gayly colored cargo-boats from 
Chioggia, their orange and brown sails patched in vary- 
ing tones, their stripes of green or red or blue around the 
clumsy hulls, their big roimd eyes and slanting yards, 
their billowy sails, spread to the soft south wind or hanging 
limp against the mast or draped in wonderful folds to dry. 

The morning light only strengthened ovu: pleasing impres- 
sions. From a market-boat at an adjacent quay, marched 
a long procession of women with baskets on their heads. 
In the distance appeared a sailing vessel, her shining can- 
vas turned to silver in the glowing sun. A forest of masts 
and funnels extended on either side of my vantage post; 
but my particular interest lay in the doings of the fasci- 
nating port shut in by the Molo San Carlo and the more 
prosaically named Number Four. One boat was loading 
telegraph poles, one largp stone slabs, several had a pen- 
chant for bricks, and even sand was not disdained. Two 
men were carrying hand-barrows of sand from the ship's 
hold to a pile some twenty feet away. I wondered why they 
did not put it at once into the queer-shaped wicker wagons, 
which stood near, waiting to receive it; but I suppose that 
belongs to another class of labor! The waiting oxen, 
crouched in quiet contemplation of this busy scene, reminded 
me of their appearance in the criches or presepi^ those rep- 
resentations of the Nativity so dear to the hearts of Italy. 

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CARCO-HOATS FROM CHIOC.C.IA 
CANAL ORANDE, TRIKSIK 



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PLANS AND PRELIMINARIES 

A gray coasting steamer with a beautiful green water- 
line poked its sharp nose deftly between the larger craft in 
the crowded waters, and ran alertly abngside the quay, bear- 
ing an interesting group of humanity. ** It must be mar- 
ket day/' I thought, and seizing my kodak, I plunged into 
the busy throng. It was market day, and the market was 
beside a wonderful canal lined with gayly painted ships. 
The heaps of oranges and lemons repeated the colors of the 
sails, and country folk in full short skirts, with shawl and 
knitted scarf, completed the picture. A trio of brilliantly 
costumed men flashed by me &om the quay. ** Dalmatians!" 
I heard, as I turned to follow them. They looked so big 
and fierce that I dared not '^snap" them openly. Their 
wide leathern belts were stuffed with what seemed to be 
weapons of war; I say ^^seemed to be," for I afterwards 
learned that those vast and commodious pouches were not 
allowed to carry anything more dangerous than smoking 
utensils. Certainly to the superficial observer the array 
was no less intimidating. A quaint old lady steiq)ed into the 
marixt-place looking as if she had come out of a picture 
frame. Her dark blue skirt had no gores taken ixom its 
gathered fulness, her black velvet cape was trimmed with a 
deep netted fringe, over which was draped a black necker- 
chief brocaded with green flowers, and on her head she wore 
a black kerchief whose large mag^ta peonies outshone the 
blossoms of every booth. I started to follow her when — 

"Do you realize that it is breakfast time?" asked a 
familiar voice at my elbow; "and that we are going to see 
Trieste tcniay, — and Miramar ?" 

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Of course we climbed up the steep, none-too-sweet- 
smelling streets of the old city to the "Arco di Ricardo," 
whose hug^ blocks of stone told its Roman origin. 

"Why Ricardo?" asked the tireless seeker after infor- 
mation. 

"After Richard Coeur de Lion, who, according to 
tradition, was imprisoned here on his return trom Pales- 
tine." 

I always accept traditions absolutely, — it makes his- 
tory so much more interesting and the personages seem so 
much more like real people. So it was easy to imagine that 
picturesque hero of mediaeval history languishing behind 
barred and narrow windows, catching an occasional glimpse 
of the blue Adriatic which half in playfulness one night had 
cast him away upon Lacroma's rocks. What an impression 
his personality must have made upon these people that 
they rededicated to him this half-hidden remnant of a 
Roman triumphal arch! 

There are museums in Trieste containing antiquities 
and modem treasures, but the chief charm of the city lies 
in her out-of-doors, and here we wandered through narrow 
lanes and stone-paved courts, by busy streets and simny 
squares, watching the people at their work and play. We 
climbed the steep paved way to the cathedral at the castle 
walls. The present church was evolved in the fourteenth 
century by combining three sixth century edifices built on 
the site of a Roman temple. The tombstones in tiiefafode^ 
and also some of the inscriptions in the squatty belfry, were 
exceedingly curious. From the terrace the view over the 

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city and the sea, through flowering peach orchaids, was 
enchanting in cdor and outline. 

About five miles to the northwest of Trieste, close to the 
sea, is the royal Chateau of Miramar, situated in a beau- 
tiful park which is freely thrown open to the public. Im- 
agine a garden offlowers and vines and shrubs; offotmtains 
and pook and pergolas; of trees and hedges; of stone 
benches and statuary, — but no grass. It is wonderfully 
beautiful. At the time of our visit the wistaria was just 
ready to blossom, and when its purple tassek fall through 
the open lattice of the encircling arbors the eSect must be 
magical. The laurustinus starred the copses, the genista was 
beginning to shine in yellow glory. Hyacinths and for- 
get-me-nots, tulips, jonquils, and calceolarias in the box- 
edged formal garden were brilliant and effective. Black 
swans swimming lazily back and forth in this cool retreat 
bulged us for tidbits. 

On a small esplanade half-way up the cliff, four or five 
baby cannon pointed seaward, and beneath the pines the 
view was exquisite, either towards the castle or over the 
Uue Adriatic I thought of Maximilian and his pleasure 
in making this splendid estate from the stony hillside. I 
wondered whether in the stormy stress of his life in the new 
world his heart did not sometimes ache with longing for the 
quiet of this beautiful home; and a picture of the desolate 
field at Queretaro, where he was shot, came forcibly to my 
mind. 

In turning away, I almost touched a little bird which 
locked up fearlessly, and, in no way distiurbed by our pres- 

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ence or our movements, hopped unconcernedly about with 
a touchmg trustfuhiess in the human being which spoke 
volumes for the constant stream of visitors drifting through 
this royal domain. This beautiful confidence was the more 
noticeable in contrast with Italy, where every bird, big or 
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Tl^ had looked forward to Trieste as the place where we 
could doubtless obtain definite information in r^;ard 
to the roads and conveniences of motor travelling in Dalma- 
tian Here at its door we should probably find better maps, 
more guide-books, and possibly some friendly soul who had 
made the trip. We did learn that there were about twenty- 
five automobiles owned in the dty and that within the last 
fortnight four motor cars had preceded us into Dahnatia. 
This was encouraging. Perhaps, however, it might as well 
be stated here that we never saw any of these adventiuous 
tourists in all our wanderings, and heard of only one of them 
that penetrated as far south as Zelenika. Here, after one 
glance at the '^ ferry " across the Bocche di Cattaro, he 
shipped his car back to Trieste by steamer and took the next 
boat himself. 

Trieste is so purely a seaport, that she seems to scorn any 
acquaintance with inland commimication, and no road maps 
of any kind of Istria or Croatia, of Dalmatia or Monten^io, 
of the Herzegovina or Bosnia were to be found. Doubtlessthis 
will be remedied as the demand increases; for the western 
Balkan Provinces are sure to become, in the near future, 
the happy hunting grounds of the motorist. But at the 
bookshops, the bankers', the hotek, they looked upon us at 
this time as half-demented folk to attempt a tour in Dalmatia 

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by automobile instead of keeping to the well-known and tried 
means of locomotion — the steam-boat. 

It had been the secretly cherished desire of our Leader 
to preface our Dahnatian joumeyings with a bit of the old 
peninsula of Istria. Could anything be more beguiling than 
the descriptions of Pirano siurounded by olive groves above 
the bay, or Capodistria's cathedral and Palazzo Pubblico; or 
Parenzo with its sixth century church, or Rovigno with its 
high-lying campanile, and above all Pola, with its famous 
Amphitheatre and Roman Temple " erected in B. C. 19, its 
frieze still in excellent preservation"! But upon this jour- 
ney authorities were unanimously agreed. ^^By steamer 
if you will, by rail if you must, but not by automobile. The 
roads are so dreadful that most motorists have turned back." 
Mud and stones, narrow ways and steep heights, short turns 
and frightened peasantry, — everything bad and nothing 
good was said of itl While not believing all this we re- 
luctantly decided, in view of the long journey before us, to 
leave this somewhat uncertain expedition until another time. 

'^Suppose we stop at Abbazia for a few days before 
plunging into the darkness of Dalmatia?" quizzically asked 
the Leader, knowing that a comfortable hotel between the 
mountains and the sea delighted the heart of his companion. 
"It is but a short detour &om ovu: road." 

" With a garden, too, the guide-book says," she added 
joyously. 

So leaving the gay city of Trieste, we climbed the heights 
above it, enjoying delightful views over. Muggia and Istria 
and the deep blue bays of the Adriatic. Up and down the 

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rollmg surfaxre of the high plateau we bowled, and at each 
new mountam range one of us would exclaun: '^Is that 
Dalmatia?'' But a negative nod was all that we received 
from the figure on the front seat busily engaged in watching 
the new roads and changing scenes. Women in groups were 
walking briskly along the highway, a hug^ basket of market- 
ing lightly poised on each sleek head, big milk cans slung 
over their shoulders, and a broad smile of sympathetic 
enjoyment on their heavy featiures as they slowly turned 
and watched us. 

"What have they in their hands?'* asked Madame 
Content. "Every one has the same thing." 

"It is an olive branch," answered the Enthusiast quietly. 
"To-morrow is Palm Sunday." 

What a desolate country! Only an occasional farm- 
house, or here and there a copse of pines breaks the monotony 
of the rock-covered plain. On our left the Gran Elapella 
rang^ of Croatian mountains are covered with snow; but 
here there is no sign of water, neither river, brook, nor well, 
except an occasional muddy reservoir by the side of the road. 
Dotted among the rocks, at irregular intervals, are curious 
crater-like pits of varying sizes, into which the rain has 
washed the alluvial soil; and wherever these moist hollows 
occur the grass grows vividly green, in sharp relief to the 
dreary grayness of the landscape. These oases in the desert 
are the only possible places where crops can be raised. 

Later on, the road climbs hig^ hiUs and winds through 
small hamlets whose names are generally conspicuously 
posted in two languages. At Castelnuovo there is actually 

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an inn, — "Narodni Dom." We note it carefully in case of 
accident and here we first see some of the pretty native cos- 
tumes- A sky-blue, knee-length full skirt trinmied with a 
broad white band, white blouse and stockings, sandals, a red 
cap, and fichu form a combination both patriotic and gay! 
The names of the villages become more Slavic, — Hnisica, 
Racice, Pasjak, and before we reach Pasjak, just below the 
top of the pass a gorgeous panorama unfolds itself of motrn- 
tains and islands and sea. Did Theodoric, king of the 
Ostrogoths, look down from this height, when with an army 
of two hundred thousand men, their families and goods, he 
marched from Moesia for the conquest of Italy in 489 A. D. ? 
Was it across this very region that in the sixth century the 
Lombards swept when led by Alboin they poured down mur- 
derous hordes over the cliflfs upon the Roman dty of Ter- 
g^ste? Siurely over that snowy mountam range the Slavs 
and Avars advanced in that singular '^wandering of the 
tribes" of the seventh century. 

But my thoughts were brought back to the present with a 
jerfL, — for, turning a sudden comer, we met a mail-carrier's 
cart. His horse plunged and snorted with terror at sight 
of our car. Of course we stopped and the men rushed to 
the rescue, but by this time the horse had jiunped over the 
stone wall and was drawn back on his haunches by the 
cart which remained partially in the road. Fortimately 
the post-man held onto the reins with all his might and in 
time the terrified animal was pacified. We looked at one 
another in dismay and wondered whether all the horses in 
Dalmatia were going to behave like this one! 

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Over the summit of the pass we bowled and at Sapjane 
coasted down again; but a short distance beyond began an- 
other pass. In the fifteenth century when the Venetians and 
Counts of Gorizia attempted to divert the commerce of the 
interior to their own ports of Muggia and Pirano, the 
Triestini rose in their wrath and fortified these very passes 
in a struggle to keep by force their commercial privileges. 
Now the road is maintained in good condition for artillery 
and leads through forests of young oaks into Croatia. 

A girl, with a mountain basket on her back, passed us. 
Then a group of women in native costumes. This time the 
skirts were black with a red band and short enough to show 
the white skirts below; the black sleeveless jacket trimmed 
with red opened over a white blouse made with full sleeves. 
The whole had a charming eflPect. 

Near Spincici, sixty-eight kilometers from Trieste, we 
stopped again for the view. Far below us, the rock-girt island 
of Cherso extended its narrow length; to the right the 
houses of Abbazia lay white against the sea; and Monte 
Maggiore, its summit tipped with snow, rose in graceful long 
lines, — seeming to hold the little village in its protecting 
arms. The coast beyond jutted into the water in a series of 
projecting points, small islands detached themselves in the 
scattering haze, and in the Canale di Farasina a ship under 
full saU cast exquisite reflections on the glassy sea. 

At Castua we left the highway, which went on to Fiume, 
and began the descent to Abbazia. The island of Veglia came 
in si^t as we passed the extensive stone quarries of Preluka. 
Then we wound down bend after bend of the stony road, 

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very narrow and very steep. At short distances diagonal 
gullies were placed to carry oflE the water. Later we were to 
learn that this senseless and very uncomfortable arrangement 
is a favorite method with Croatian roadmakers. The hill- 
sides were clothed with pine forests and in sheltered comers 
peach-trees were bursting into blossom. As we swung into 
the long street of Abbazia, the horse chestnuts lining it tossed 
flowery bells upon us, and the sails of the fishing boats in the 
harbor nodded a bright welcome. How beautiful! What 
richness of coloring! What pictures at every txim! So this 
is Abbazia! 

There is a charming shore walk built against the crags 
and sheltered by twisted pines leading to Icici and Ika, 
which tempted us forth that day after the showers. The 
Croatian Alps loomed mysteriously out of the early twi- 
light, and far in the distance, faintly outlined in the gray, 
rose the rocky islets of the Dalmatian coast. How fear- 
less the birds were! The Italian stoma whose acquaint- 
ance I had made in a villa near Rome sang his sweet song 
close by us, and my Miramar jewel fluttered down from the 
tangle to pick up a tidbit in the path. 

Another day we took a walk up into the hills, where all 
the paths are marked in different colors, with guide-posts 
at the puzsding comers and distances measured by time! 
"Zu den Kaiser Franz Josefs Anlagen, 5 min." On the 
Jurasevo Ulica the blue lobelia and the low pinkish mint 
pushed their bright flowers from under the thick barberry 
bushes, big chestnuts towered above the evergreen laurel, 
the ehns on the southem slope of the hill were painting it a 

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delicate green, the spiky smilax looked delicate and sensitive 
until you touched its sharp and unyielding leaves. And by 
the way, this plant does make the finest, most picturesque 
brooms, quite as effective as our own more conventional pat- 
tern. The method is so simple, too. Tie the bush on the 
end of a pole and, behold! it is ready for use. 

"These paths are well made," commented the Enthusi- 
ast. " Even after the heavy rains of last night they are per- 
fectly dry." About five feet wide, of fine, well-packed gravel, 
they wind by easy grades along the flowery hillsides and at 
each new viewpoint a comfortable bench invites to rest. 

"Look at those peasants coming up the hill," cried the 
Enthusiast a moment later; " they are really in costume. Do 
you suppose they would care if I kodaked them?" 

"The poor things! " exclaimed Madame Content. " Can 
it be coal they are carrying on their backs?" Coal it was, 
in cumbersome flat wooden barrek, strapped on their backs! 
And these women, their skirts tucked up, were actually 
laughing and chatting as they moimted the steep ascent, bent 
nearly double beneath their loads. To such an extent can 
habit harden one! 

On the promenade of this fashionable watering place, a 
portly peasant attracted much attention by her orange stock- 
ings thrown into strong relief by her full, dark blue skirt 
reaching barely to the knee. The pale blue, tight-fitting 
basque came down six inches below her waist, making a frill 
over the hips, — thus accentuating their already dispropor- 
tionate size ; aroimd her neck lay a wide frill of white netting, 
and her head was covered with a scarlet turban, one end of 

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which hiing in a flat wide sash to her waist. She was truly a 
gorgeous sight and the fashion plates paled hei(xe her. 

About five miles beyond Abbazia is another winter resort, 
Lovrana, — less fashionable, perhaps, than her frivolous 
neighbor but with pretty villas by the sea and charming 
walks on the hillsides. Her tiny harbor was alive with color 
and movement. The sails swayed in the gentle breezes and 
the fishermen seemed to have leismre to spin endless yams as 
they sat on the sand and mended their brown nets. We fol- 
lowed a band of wandering musicians to watch the street 
children dance in an abandon of joyous passion to the deep 
notes of an old trombone. In this diversion, at least, all 
nations join in sympathy and racial difficulties are momen- 
tarily forgotten. 

I think it must have been a native from the island of 
Arbe whom we met one morning walking rapidly down the 
main street in Abbazia, carrying somebody's carefully pre- 
pared dinner. Her long, red-figured apron trimmed with 
white lace almost covered her dark skirt and reached just 
below her knee. Black shoes and stockings protected her 
liberal proportions, and her bright blue figured basque, with 
tight-fitting sleeves, added the proper amoimt of color to her 
costume. She had chosen a black velvet fringed kerchief 
for her head, with but a narrow border of those gay brocaded 
flowers so dear to the heart of the mountaineer. How soft, 
yet brilliant were her large dark eyes! With what splendid 
tieedom she walked! Ttuly one sacrifices something to be 
civilized! 

Perhaps it was this train of thought which prompted the 

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Gentle Lady, one cloudy morning, to exclaim unexpectedly, 
**I am terribly tired of *Tag'-ing people I" We laughed, but 
we sympathized with her; — for there did seem, to our 
Western ideas, a plethora of politeness. The elevator boy 
takes off his cap and makes an elaborate bow when we arrive 
at our floor, breaking into ^^Guten Tag^^^ no matter how 
many times a day we ride up and down. A maid disappear- 
ing around a comer in the corridor does not forget to send 
an explosive *^Guten Tag^^ echoing down the long expanse. 
The waiter who passes you, the porter busy at his desk, the 
errand boy at his manifold duties, never fails to ^^Guten 
TagJ* It is all very well if we might accept and ignore it, 
but this is impossible. It would be the height of rudeness 
not to respond. Fortunately a plain " Tag^^ uttered explo- 
sively satisfies the demands of etiquette, and if on. enter- 
ing or leaving a shop, I forget the magic formxila, a gentle 
poke from Madame Content never fails to bring it forth. 

"What a queer-shaped under part that desk chair has!'* 
the Enthusiast exclaimed casually one day, as from the sofa 
where she was lounging she contemplated the Gentle Lady, 
busy at her diary. 

"Yes?" remarked the latter absently. 

"What do you suppose it is for?" continued the Persis- 
tent One. "See — that other one at the dressing table is 
just Kke it! Why, they *re all alike! Perhaps they were 
made that way to kneel upon if used for a chim:h service." 
The Enthusiast was thinking aloud. 

"They hardly project enough for that," remarked the 
Gentle Lady, tinning around to inspect hers more closely. 

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"Well, perhaps they were meant for foot-rests if the floor 
is draughty. They are certainly not pretty. They look 
just like bootjacks." 

"Bootjacks! Of course." The Gentle Lady was by 
this time fully interested. "That is just what they are. I 
used to find those queer mediaeval articles in my room in 
Germany, I remember." 

"Why, yes, they must be for the army officers who all 
wear boots. It is quite a sensible idea to have every chair 
a bootjack!" 

"Do you suppose we shall ever have to order our break- 
fast in Slavic?" asked the Enthusiast anxiously. "It*s 
pretty long." 

"How does it sound ?" quizzically demanded the Leader. 

" Rather odd. Of course I make it as simple as possible. 
Xoffee with milk, bread and butter, one egg boiled four 
minutes. Kafa sa mUjekOj hljeb i masloj jedan jaje ravita 
cetiri minut.^ " I finished amid peals of laughter and the 
commiserating glances of my companions. 

"I do hope you will have a chance to use that carefully 
prepared sentence," encouraged the Leader, "but I would 
not waste time learning any more." 

"Oh, just one more," insisted the Enthusiast. "I feel 
sure I may want to ask the name of a village or a flower some- 
where, and really it 's such a neat phrase. ^Kako se zave 
ova selo?* Say it fast and it soimds quite Italian except the 
first word." 

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preparations, our forebodings, our doubts and our fears. I 
must confess tha:t these were confined to the feminine camp, 
— the other side was far too sensible for misgivings, and only 
filled with pleasurable expectation in contemplating our 
journey into the wilds of Dalmatia. 



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ABBAZIA TO ZENGG 

TT was at Abbazia that we bade a long farewell to our 
big trunks and sent them to await us in Vienna. For 
thenceforth the baggage of bur entire party was to be 
limited to such as we could stow away on the automobile. 
Our car was of 28/32 Hn P. with a double phaeton body 
and a Cape cart hood and carried ninety litres of gasoline 
in the tank with two extra tins of twelve litres each strapped 
on the side. In Trieste the Leader had made arrangements 
to have tires forwarded by parcel-post to any point on re- 
ceipt of a telegram, so we took only three extra ones with us. 
Two good-sized trunks were strapped on behind, the hat- 
box slipped within the tires, and the night things packed in a 
huge sack which was placed in the tonneau. 

Dressed in cloth suits and waterproofs we started off 
amid discouraging reports about roads, after heavy rains, 
but with immense determination and a large stock of enthu- 
siasm. How lovely was the view back over Abbazia, the 
bay and the islands streaked with sunlight as we climbed 
the hill that windy morning on the first stage of our 
joiuney toward Dalmatia! The air was mild; but the 
roads, sticky after the rains, degenerated into deep holes 
at Fiume. Bvunping and splashing through seas of mud 
and water, sometimes in dangerous proximity to great vans 
loaded with coal or stone or hogsheads of wine, we labored 

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by the wharves and soon rolled smoothly over the pavement 
of stone slabs before the government building and park. A 
ruined castle on a height beyond Fiume presented an effec- 
tive picture, but we were looking, more or less openly, for 
guide-posts. Oh! in the distance one is seen. We ap- 
proach: 

"U Dragu 4 K." 

We search the maps in vain for "Dragu" or any similar 
name; perhaps it is too small a place to be mentioned, 
perhaps it has another name entirely in Himgarian, for 
no two words could be more dissimilar than Fiimae and 
Rjeka, — ^yet they are one and the same dty. This diflSi- 
culty of having at least two distinct names for each town, 
we soon discovered, was universal in this Balkan region. 
The only way is to know them both. 

"We have seen, now, the one seaport of Hungary," 
remarked the Leader, "and should soon be in Croatia." 
Even as he spoke we crossed the ravine where flows the 
stream which has always been the boundary of the Croatian 
kingdom. 

Passing imder the railroad which connects Fiume with 
Agram, we climb a steep grade, thankful that the road is 
dry. The lilacs are budding, and the April morning seems 
quite Hke our own springtime. Another guide-post, but 
this time without a directing ^nger! 

"USasak2K." 
As this is a suburb of Fiume, " u " evidently means "to." 
We mount a fearful grade and go down one equally vertical 
into Draga. The hawthorn hedges are in blossom and in 

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this sheltered valley vines are trained on the sunny slopes. 
The road resembles nothing so much as a scenic railway 
with its steep ups and downs. There is no attempt at grad- 
ing but the track is fairly worn. Fruit-trees are in blossom, 
plums and almonds, cherries and peaches. A little chap 
herding sheep by the wayside, terrified at sight of us, forgets 
his precious charges and rushes into a cave to hide his face 
imtil we have passed. Near "U Bakar 3 K." we stop for 
the lovely view over the Bay of Buccari. It is like an inland 
sea, surrounded by high hills cultivated in terraces to the top, 
amidst which nestle the clustered houses of Meja and Dol- 
mali. A steamer with rippling wake slips noiselessly toward 
the town of Bakar, or Baccari, which, crowned by its church 
spire, rises in soft rose tints from the water's edge. At the 
foot of the long descent the Hotel Jadran on the quay seems 
so neat and inviting that we are tempted to alight. Indeed, 
the whole town is conspicuously well-kept and we look back 
across the water many times to its attractive situation upon 
the sheltering slopes. 

"Elraljevica" says the next guide-post, but our maps 
scorn these high-sounding syllables. A small boy by the 
roadside points straight ahead in response to our raised eye- 
brows and gesticulations; but an approaching teamster 
differs from him and insists on the other cross-road. They 
speak only Croatian, but their meaning is unmistakable, 
and we discover, later on, that both are right, as the two 
roads soon become one. 

On a commanding point where the Bay of Buccari joins 
the sea, stands a square mediseval castle built by the Frangi- 

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pani. Porto Re is the name of the settlement and so well 
protected is its harbor that Napoleon had intended to estab- 
lish an arsenal here. Now, however, the castle has been 
modernized, painted yellow, and is used by the Society of 
Jesuits. High above it we obtain a splendid panorama of 
blue mountains above azure water. The roads are dry and 
hard and in due time we come to Elraljevica, a common- 
place collection of scattered houses. 

Continuing our joiuney, the canal of Maltempo, separat- 
ing the rocky gray plateau of the island of Veglia from the 
mainland, soon appears below us, and, beyond, fjord-like 
basins glisten, ships look like toys upon the water, and the 
guide-posts begin to be marked "Crkvenica." Past Suriki 
and Smokovo and Klanfari we descend, midst fruit and 
grain farms, pastures and olive groves, down and ever down 
toward the rippling sea. It is nearly noon when we stop 
before the big Therapia Palace Hotel on the outskirt of 
Crkvenica. Here it is really warm. The sim pours down 
upon the long pier, the bath houses, the avenue of kiri-trees 
along the beach, the music pavilion, and the newly laid out 
gardens of the hotel. 

Although this is a favorite resort of the Croatians, there 
were not many people in the house. We had an excellent 
luncheon and were interested in noting the difference in 
customs between this and other lands. For instance, it 
looked a trifle odd to us, — provincial as we are, perhaps, — 
to see prim, elderly, very proper-looking ladies enjoying 
their after-dinner cigarette; even the clergyman*s wife join- 
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creating in the minds of those "singular Americans." From 
beneath the lowered awnings, we looked upon the fishing- 
smacks drifting lazily on the wide Morlacca, a scattering 
village outlining the near shore, and a passing steamer going 
across to Veglia. It was all very quiet and restful. Three 
hours can do wonders for tired senses and we renewed our 
journey with zest. 

"Gasoline? Why certainly, — up the Vinodol. I will 
go with you," the porter insisted, " and show you the 
way." 

What a charming little valley we ran into, this one of 
Vinodol! A dancing stream, a rustic bridge, overhanging 
oaks, young elms in winged blossom, and people so gay, so 
friendly! Imagine women being gay when carrying baskets 
of rocks from a quarry to a wagon! Imagine being on good 
terms with life on thirty-two cents a day! Imagine women 
who really seem to enjoy the making of roads! One 
balanced a heavy table on her head as she climbed the hill. 
A tiny child of five running beside her already had her bim- 
dle strapped upon her back, in imitation of her elders. Here 
at the mill where we bought the gasoline, we found that the 
overseer had been in America; he had worked in the mines 
of West Virginia and Pennsylvania, he said. Now he was 
home again, very much looked up to, evidently, as a travelled 
personage. 

Returning to the village of Crkvenica, we paused to see 
the pictmresque water front The stone embankment with 
its many iron rings for mooring was a delight to watch. 
Row-boats and sail-boats, fishing-boats and market-boats^ 

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ferry-boats and even an occasional steam-boat, made enough 
color to nm the gamut of the spectroscope. 

Speeding onwards over an ancient five-arched bridge, past 
a castle of the Frangipani, we catch wonderful effects of 
li^ as the sun touches the sea, the valley, and the moun- 
tain peaks with slender, swiftly moving fingers. Our route 
follows the water, although high above it, and we look down 
on fishermen in small boats and on shore, drawing in a huge 
seine with its wooden floats. Is it timny fishing? They 
pause to look up with flashing smiles as we fly by. We climb 
by a steep ascent over a neck of land, and on the other side, 
far betow us, appears the tiny harbor of Novi. How favor- 
ably this ravishing drive compares with the famous Cornice! 
Opalescent mountains reflect the scurrying douds. At their 
base lies the town of Novi in shades of mellow brown, roofs 
and walls one blended whole; — an occasional blue or 
green door, delicately distinct, only emphasizing the general 
tone. Up from the water's edge, in long flights of steps, 
rise all the dty streets. The women rub their eyes and blink 
in startled wonder as we sweep by them. The road is firm 
and dry, if somewhat narrow, and it is remarkable that not 
a wagon have we passed to-day. But what need of wagons 
or animals to draw them when the women are such beasts 
of burden? We meet one "happy pair," — she staggering 
under an enormous load of fagots, he carrying the axet 

Still foUowing the convolutions of the coast, we climb 
to the Kaist again. The Karst has been defined as '* a coun- 
try covered with loose splintered rocks which the land 
'grows' faster than they can be picked off it, although the 

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great heaps that divide field from field cover more ground 
than they leave exposed for cidtivation." How precious one 
square mile of this dreary waste would be, transported to 
the stoneless prairies of America where the occasional 
gravel pit proves a gold-mine to its discoverer and the only 
road-dressing procurable is from the banks of streams and 
lakes! 

However, in Croatia the Karst fails to be appreciated — 
there is too much of it. Between barren boulders the sheep 
search industriously for food; a bit of genista hangs out its 
yellow banner from beneath a projecting crag; there is not a 
tree in sight, — only sage-brush and the endless ruin of the 
jagged rocks. Suddenly below us shines a deep inlet of the 
sea, and as we cross the promontory we pause on the ridge 
to enjoy the backward view. Dark clouds are rushing over 
the sky, casting weird shadows upon dancing water and cas- 
tellated islands. Before us, wandering up the bare gray 
moimtain side, our road appears, a narrow dust-colored line. 

Crossing this last barrier we come upon signs of habita- 
tion, green almond-trees grow on the southern terraces, 
young calves, nibbling at an invisible herbage, surround om: 
car in dazed fearlessness. A platform near the road is pro- 
tected on the two sides whence blows the Bora by high stone 
walls and in the centre bears that great blessing of the Orient, 
a deep cool well. We are nearing Senj, Segna, or Zengg, 
now, and soon catch sight of it through the falling mist. 

"And the pirates?" demands the Enthusiast, for the 
surroundings are so very propitious and the former inhabi- 
tants so notorious. "Do you see any?" 

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"Oh! there *s no danger here," quoth the Leader. 
"Those red-capped groups m the harbor are only innocent 
fishermen about their daily toil." 

We peered anxiously from beneath the curtains as we 
thundered through the mediaeval gateway and dashed across 
the square to a neat-looking building marked Hotel Zagreb. 

"But our hotel is the Agram," ventured the Enthusiast. 

" Well, Zagreb is Croatian for Agram." And my wonder 
was increased, for the hundredth time, as to how it was pos- 
sible for the early geographers to evolve the names they did 
from the native words. 

A cheery landlady came from the tiny box of a kitchen 
in the centre of the house and led us up two flights of steep 
and shining stairs. With conscious pride, throwing open 
the door of a spotless chamber, she preceded us to open a 
small compartment in the double windows and to watch 
our faces when, our veils being removed, the full splendor 
of her best apartment should biurst upon us. For although 
we had sent no word it was evident that some one was ex- 
pected. The immaculate sheets were tiuned half-way 
down the bed, over tufted satin quilts; the ruffled and 
embroidered pillow cases glistened; a vase of bright arti- 
ficial flowers ornamented the colimmar stove in the comer; 
and Dresden shepherdesses looked coyly down at more ordi- 
nary hric-i^hrac upon the whatnot. A gracefully shaped 
glass pitcher stood in the porcelain-lined tin bowl on the 
washstand and plenty of fresh towels were brought. Only 
the landlady herself seemed to imderstand German, so all 
orders were given through her. With the big-eyed Croatian 

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maiden we found gestioilations ample and sufficient. After 
ally our needs were few — something to eat and a clean bed. 
It did not seem exacting. 

We wandered out to the quay through the narrow wind- 
ing streets and from the pier looked back beyond the ware- 
houses to the Nahaj Castle on the hill — a likely place indeed 
for a pirate band; but we saw nothing piratical on the slum- 
bering s\mlit shore, or even in the tortuous streets of the tiny 
town. A quiet good-natiure seemed to prevail and every- 
where we were sped on our way with the greeting, ^^Kilss 
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CHAPTER IV 

ZENGG TO GOSPIC — OVER THE VRATNIK PASS 

T/ERY early the next morning our parjy is perforce awake 
for there are no shades or curtains or blinds to shut out 
the brilliant light. Already the city is astir, and at the foun- 
tain in the public square a girl is filling her wooden tub. How 
is she going to carry it away? To my amazement she lifts 
it lightly to her head, balances it deftly, and walks up the 
hill without spilling a drop. Before our breakfast is ready 
she is back again and as she trips along with a peculiar lilt- 
ing motion the water dances in little pointed wavelets in the 
tub but it never dances out. Boys, great and small, many of 
them wearing the Croatian cap^ crowd around the automobile 
intensely interested in every detail; but with a politeness of 
demeanor that reassures us. 

We are susceptible to each new impression this morning 
and an unwonted air of excitement seems to pervade our 
party, for to-day we are to enter the promised land; — to-day 
we are to try strange routes and cross the moimtain passes 
of Vratnik and Mali Halan. What knowledge we have 
been able to acquire is so meagre, so contradictory, that it 
leaUy is with a thrill of prospective adventure that we leave 
our friendly Hotel Zagreb and set out at last for Dalmatia. 

There is a coast road as far as Carlopago, thence to 
Gospic; but being assured that the better route lies straight 
inland we leave the sea and start up the valley where the 
bhie hills overlap. On the southern slope the trees are 

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already ting^ with green and the sun shines in brilliant 
patches from a wind-swept sky. 

It is indeed a day for adventures. Should one of the 
Frangipaniy who were masters of this territory in the thir- 
teenth centiuy, appear^ surrounded by his body-guard, to 
demand toll from this new invasion, it would not sur- 
prise us. Or shoiild the Uscocs dart from any one of the 
many convenient ambushes, it would seem quite natural and 
fitting. The original Uscocs were honest men when driven by 
the Turks from Bulgaria, Servia, and Bosnia to find refuge, 
first in Clissa, and then in Zengg under the protection of Ferdi- 
nand of Austria. Here, at first, they made an ideal frontier 
guard against the Turks; but after being checked in that 
direction they tiuned their attention to the sea, degenerating 
into lawless marauders, attracting to their number ad- 
venturers and outlaws, from all nations and "becoming the 
terror of Christian and Moslem alike.'' After unheard-of 
atrocities culminating in a three years' war between Venice 
and Austria, in 1618 the Uscocs were dispersed and Zengg 
occupied by German troops; but the pirate tales of bar- 
baric bloodshed, of hideous crimes for gain, still create a 
background of darkness and gloom which enfolds the 
harbor of 2^ngg and its overhanging rugged heights. 

Up these heights we crawl slowly for an unexpected 
detail delays us ; — the sharp stones of the road are well worn 
down in two fairly smooth ruts and we might mount the 
somewhat steep incline with ease were it not for the cassis^ 
or biunps, which at every forty feet or so force us to slow down 
or break a spring. We might ahnost as well ride in the dry 

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bed of the torrent, so faithfully do we follow its capricious 
bends. Beside us a whitewashed chapel lifts its tiny 
belfry above the wooden crosses at its feet. Up and up we 
go by long windings on the mountain side until at length, 
far above us, we see a deft in the crags. 

"That," says the Leader, pointing to it, "is where our 
road goes through and over. The many white pyramids 
of stones which dot the moimtain between us and that cleft 
show where the route lies, and are ready for repairing it." 

Below us the inlets of the sea lie like crater lakes among 
the peaks. Although we have passed the last straggling 
pines and firs, we still hear bird songs above the hiun of the 
machinery and catch occasional glimpses of the happy song- 
sters. "Bransevina" we read on a sign-post and look down 
sheer two thousand feet to where the islands seem cut in 
ivory out of the blue water. Even far-away Cherso comes 
into view and then — 

Suddenly a loaded wagon drawn by two horses appears 
on the road ahead of us. Poor things! How frightened 
they are ! And the teamster — how he trembles — how his 
teeth chatter! The predicament is not a pleasant one for 
either party, as there is no parapet to the road and the dis- 
tance down that precipice is many hundred feet. We in- 
stantly stop on the outside and the chauffeur talks soothingly 
to the horses and rubs their noses \mtil they consent to be led 
by the evidently harmless although terrifying monster. The 
man is grateful and smiles pleasantly as he piursues his down- 
ward course and we hope fervently that we may not meet 
many vehicles on this narrow pass. 

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Soon after^ we stop at a wajrside spring for the marvellous 
view below us. Beyond the heights of Veglia the island 
of Arbe rises like a shimmering opal out of the turquoise sea. 
The play of color on her shining cliffs changes with each 
dimpling cloud. So unearthly is the vision it seems floating 
in ether and I half expect anything so lovely must soon 
vanish when — I hear a sharp click beside me and the motor 
continues its climb. 

"This is the top of the Vratnik Pass [2326 feet]/' re- 
marks the Leader, as we slip through that cleft in the crags 
and turn away from the shimmering sea. "We have taken 
fifty-nine minutes to climb fifteen kilometers. At this rate 
we will have to make other arrangements for the night.** 

The road is very muddy from recent rains, the biunps 
are farther apart now for we are on a high plateau, a culti- 
vated open coimtry with wooded hills rising on either side. 
Cattle scramble up the steep inclines like goats to get out of 
our way, palisade-like fences take the place of stone walls, 
snow lies by the roadside. "Vratniku 25 K. Otocac,*' 
says a guide-post, and we feel encouraged, for Otocac is 
our first hah. 

A walled-in well and a few scattered adobe huts consti- 
tute this settlement of Vratniku. The huts are shingled 
with five or six rows of long "shakes" and in lieu of a chim- 
ney have a pointed board placed at a slight an^e from a hole 
in the roof. Neatly piled stacks of white birch-wood stand 
beside each door. We soon discover that this primitive 
shelter is the characteristic Croatian farmhouse, differing 
only in proportions. 

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"22 u Otocac" — and three horses abreast stand stiflE 
with horror before the advancing monstrosity. Again we 
stop and the chauffeur quiets the frightened beasts. The 
language is totally unknown to them but the tones are sooth- 
ing and comforting so they consent to be led by, and the 
strain is less intense since this time we are not on the ragged 
edge of a precipice. The wild hellebore grows rank among 
the stones, a hawk circles overhead, gayly marked small 
birds fly from the comiolo^s yellow blossom, and prim- 
roses peep from beneath a tan^e of dried clematis. 

"Zatalowka," but the tiny hamlet is soon passed. We 
are on the great plateau of the Velebit and the road is 
drier in places. Men in picturesque costiunes consisting 
of blue sleeveless coat, white woollen stockings drawn over 
the trousers to the knee, and gaiters above the string sandal, 
or opankay pass us; on their heads is the inevitable red 
Croatian cap and they carry a flat bag woven of horsehair 
with red fringe. 

A timible-down chaise appears and the horses threaten 
to smash it in their struggles to get away from us; but noth- 
ing really happens. I will omit our further experiences 
with horses on this one day. There seems to be a certain 
monotony in the telling of them, which, however, did not 
pertain to the realityl At the time there were always ele- 
ments of danger; but we successfully emerged from every 
one of our ten encounters. Cisasitch is passed, and here a 
road leads to Dabar; but there is no mistaking our own 
route carefully marked with guide-posts from the top of the 
Vratnik Pass. 

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Near Kompolje our exhaust has to be cleaned from the 
accumulated mud, and I welcome every stop, as there is 
always so much to see. Here the houses resemble Swiss 
chalets. From over the high-railed wooden balconies the 
moimtaineers peer at us, reserved yet friendly, and seem less 
suspicious than the inhabitants of the coast. 

Eager to test their hospitality, we go toward one of the 
simple dwellings, and as we approach every head disappears 
from the balcony, whether in dislike of my kodak or fear of 
omrselves, we cannot tell; but after a moment^s delay the 
mystery is solved, for all the family have rushed down to 
open the door and welcome us. They stand in a huddled 
group, looking at us curiously, but not quite certain what to 
do. With the one word "vo(/a" (water), uttered in an ap- 
pealing tone and with a gesture of drinking, we throw our- 
selves upon their mercy. Their self-consciousness vanishes 
in flashing smiles, and the youngest runs inside while the 
older ones motion us to enter. An immistakable odor 
of onions and soup rushes out through the half-opened 
doorway. 

"We are so bundled up," the Gentle Lady explains; — 
"wiU they pardon us for not accepting their invitation?" I 
stare in amazement at the variety and lucidity of her gestures. 
When the girl returns with two cups of water all formality 
disappears. How good it tastes! How pleased they seem 
to be at our delight! They finger frankly oiu* strange gar- 
ments; my pongee mackintosh especially amuses them, and 
the one who discovers the rubber lining has to exhibit it to 
each in turn. They talk all the time, and we do the same, 

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each in his own tongue ; the tone, the inflection^ the expres- 
sion, are even more telling than language. By the time the 
Leader calls us, we have become good friends, and bid these 
kindly creatiures a half-regretful ^^Au revoirJ^ 

Once mow we surmoimt a forest-covered ridge, and from 
the top we see Otocac in the distance. It is nearly eleven 
as we stop at the **Oest Automobil Club Auto-Benzin und 
Oel Station" for supplies, and are immediately surroimded 
by a crowd in holiday attire. 

"Oh, do take the kodak and go across the street," I 
beg the Leader, who, busy about his gasoline, looks up a 
bit annoyed. But one glance at the picture is enough for 
him, and he obediently seizes the kodak and crosses the 
broad street. 

"If it would only take color!" I cry as he returns. 
"Do see this beautiful man at my side." By this time we 
speak our minds quite freely and aloud, for English is a 
tongue unknown in the interior of Croatia. The "beau- 
tiful man" is meanwhile devouring with his big eyes every 
detail of the mud-bespattered car. 

" Is n^t that white knit jacket becoming ? And do you see 
each one has a different colored border and cuffs? Are n't 
the brass-studded belts effective? And did you ever see 
such long pipes?" The women wear big black silk aprons 
trimmed with white lace and carry the gayest of tasselled 
bags, large enough for panniers on a donkey's back. 

From the neat-looking inn across the way, from the feed 
store and the low houses, come slowly a gathering throng, 
who, — making the benzin seller their interpreter, — ask 

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intelligent questions of our Leader as to our nationality, the 
distance made to-day, and our destination. The word 
"America" always brings a glance of pleased recognition. 
Is it not the dream of many a boy to some day visit that 
wonderful coimtry and, of course, bring home a fortune? 
Scarcely a hamlet is so small that it has not sent at least one 
representative to the New World. So as we leave Otocac 
the people speed us upon our way with pleasant nods and 
smiles of friendly sympathy. 

"That is the road to the Plitvica Lakes," calls back 
the Leader, as we pass a post which says " u Priboj." "If 
it were later in the season, we would go over there from here, 
but as they lie two thousand feet above the sea, I am afraid 
it would be too cold just now." 

As we cross a tiny stream, we meet a cart, whose owner, 
fearing to pass us, turns about hurriedly and runs before us 
seeking shelter; in his anxiety he fails to notice the loss of 
one of his wheels! It is a comment on the usual roughness 
of the roads! We pick up the wheel and carry it to him 
where he is waiting in a hospitable farmyard and he re- 
ceives it with a mingled expression of amazement and 
gratitude. 

Past Lesce and a cross road to Ravljane, we climb into 
a charming dale where the Gacka River begins its gentle 
course. A mill is half hidden behind low falls; a group of 
men bow politely as we move by; the road becomes drier as 
we mount a long well-graded hill with pleasing views back 
over the grassy valley and the little stream meandering 
through its green length. We have time to enjoy it, for our 

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poor engine cannot breathe, the radiator is so choked with 
mud. Farther on we enter pine forests and hills of spruce 
and cedar, — then snow by the wayside and many granite 
boulders. 

We look about for water, to replace the loss caused by 
the overheating of the engine. Not a brook nor a pool any- 
where! Finally at a turn in the road a house appears bearing 
the welcome sign ^^GosHana,^^ (inn) and the willing peasant, 
in response to our gestxues, brings out a pitcher and a glass. 
We point to the engine, and pour in what he has brought; 
when, smiling at his own cleverness in comprehending these 
queer foreigners, he darts toward the well and soon reap- 
pears with a kerosene can full of water. This receptacle, 
fitted with a wooden bar for a handle, has usurped the place 
of the pail as a carrier of water throughout these regions. 

"Gospic?" we ask — for we are growing himgry. "25 
K.," he writes on a slip of paper. Luckily figures are alike 
in nx)st languages! 

We thank him for his precious draught, and go on our 
way over the hilltops, through low thickets of " maquis^^ 
and masses of rock. ^^Maquis^^ is a name given to a certain 
type of vegetation, grayish green in color, which aboimds on 
the dry boulder-strewn slopes of the Mediterranean region. 
It consists of aromatic plants, such as the rosemary, thyme, 
lavender, myrtle, mastic, and helichrysum, with dstus of 
various kinds, oleaster, and lavendula, intermingled with 
the buckthorn, wild olive, and juniper. Their perfume is 
said to protect them from animals, and they are able to 
withstand the long droughts of midsiunmer: here evidently 

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the same conditions prevail. The moimtains are covered 
with snow on our right, and we can see our road winding in 
long loops up the other side of the valley. In the deep hol- 
lows the crops are green and sheep graze among the stones. 
We gain another crest, — two thousand and eighty feet, — 
with a wonderful glimpse of snow fields on simmiits veiled 
in clouds. 

Past the towns of Kvarte and Perusic, we meet four 
loaded wagons at the door of a wayside inn. Fortimately 
the men are inside the house and we are by before they have 
a chance to conununicate their fright to the dumb beasts. 
The lambVwool horse-blankets, dyed in brilliant colors, 
contrast gayly with the grayness of the road. Flocks of 
wheatears flit back and forth across our way. Such 
beautiful creatiures! 

Descending into a plain of ploughed fields, and crossing 
the river Lika, a wide, straight road brings us to the village 
of Gospic at the foot of the snow-crowned Velebit Moun- 
tains. 

Evidently, it is market-day, for the way is lined with 
picturesque groups of peasants. The sleeveless sheepskin 
coats, striped waistcoats, and red caps of the men, the bright 
yellow kerchiefs of the women, make dancing spots of color 
amidst the sheep and cows, the donkeys and chickens, — to 
say nothing of the pigs, each one of which has to be cajoled 
into believing that this is the direction he wishes to take. All 
this forms an amusing spectacle, and we move with the utmost 
care to enjoy it as well as to avoid impleasant entan^ements. 
At half-past one we arrive at the door of the Svratiste 

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Lika, the hotel in Gospic. We have made only fifty-four 
miles in five hours; but considering the condition of the roads^ 
we are satisfied — and also very himgry . Yet it is with dif- 
ficulty that I sit quietly at table in the primitive restaiurant; 
for just outside the low windows groups of gayly dressed 
peasants, men and women, are passing and repassing, stop- 
ping to chat or gossip, and slowly strolling down the long 
street. From the onion-shaped steeple of the church near 
by, comes a hideous din as of poimding on copper, and 
small boys in the street swing dull wooden rattles vigorously. 

" Why ?" I begin, but the Leader has already informed 
himself. 

"It is Holy Thursday, and they are celebrating," he 
answers. 

After luncheon we hold a coimdl of war as to whether 
we would better rest here over night or push on to Zara. 

"How far is it?" asks Madame Content. 

" We have still about seventy-five miles to go. Of course 
I know nothing of the roads. Unless they are much better 
than we have had this morning, we shall not get in \mtil 
very late." 

"Is there any place to stop between here and Zara?" 

"None that I know of," he answers. "Is any one too 
tired to go on?" 

We all protest our willingness. The Leader has all the 
responsibility; whatever he decides is best we will do. 
The hotel is not inviting, the sky looks dearer, the promised 
country lies so near. We conclude to go on. 



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CHAPTER V 

ENTERING DALMATIA— GOSPIC TO ZARA 

"IJOW far is Dalmada from here?" queries the Enthu- 
siasty as we leave Gospic and speed down the fairly 
good road over a level plain beside an imposing range of 
snowy momitains. 

"It is thirty miles to the frontier," replies the Leader, "but 
we must first climb a pass over four thousand feet high." 

For fifteen kilometers the road is enciunbered with the 
wagons of the country folk returning from market. It is 
very narrow, and the horses are terrified at the unwonted 
noise of our approach, for no raihroads have accustomed them 
to steam engines or other mechanical conveyances. In these 
countries the chauffeur not only has the care of the motor, 
but of every horse or donkey or pair of oxen along the way, 
and his vigorous "Whoa!" spoken from the car, seems to 
have a wonderfully calming influence upon the plimging 
steeds. Does the mere sound of the human voice coming 
from this strange machine reassure them? Certainly the 
syllables must be new to them! 

Over a slight rise and straight away across a plain, — 
where the oxen ploughing in the field stop, terror-stricken at 
our flight, — we come to a cross-roads whose signs have 
tumbled down; but foUowing the telegraph poles as well 
as the indications on the map, we keep to the right and 
sweep over a hilltop into a rolling dale. Before us rises the 
snowy peak of Vakanski Vrh (5843 feet); below the white 

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expanse, glistening, ice-covered trees stand in serried ranks, 
and we strain our eyes to see whether we can discover any 
sign of road or horse or vehicle within that silent wilderness. 
Leaving Vakanski behind us, we enter a region of blue 
mountains veiled in dark, low-l)dng clouds; "Sv. Rok," we 
quit the highway leading to Knin, turn to the right, and 
in four minutes are reassured by the first sign bearing a 
Dalmatian name: "Obrovac 36.*' 

Soon we begin to climb in earnest, — no soft rolling over 
hilltops with a gradual rise at each new height, but a long, 
steady pull up the moimtain side, through forests of budding 
beech-trees: the landscape is pink with them. Patches of 
snow appear by the roadside and increase to long drifts; 
then the mountains are covered with thin layers growing 
ever deeper. Meanwhile the snow in the road increases so 
as to somewhat impede our progress, but banks three and 
four feet in height on either side are evidence that this pass 
over the Velebit, the best inland conmiunication between 
Croatia and Dalmatia, is kept open all winter. 

As we rise, the great valley of the Ricice spreads out in 
wonderful perspective below us; lakes and tiny threads of 
rivers, dotted villages, and distant hills, until the whole 
horizon is bounded by range after range of lofty mountains 
lost in clouds. Up the steep ascent we continue to climb, 
scattering the tiny pebbles in our path. The cleared way 
is so narrow that we shiver at the mere thought of meeting 
anything; but when the emergency arises we find it is pos- 
sible to pass, — by testing each inch of soft snow so as not 
to go over the edge! 

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When the poor, overworked engine, clogged with the mud 
of the valley, gets hot, handfuls of snow are pushed into the 
steaming radiator, and we go onward, ever upward. Now 
we are in the clouds, and we push forward cautiously, sound- 
ing the horn at frequent intervals. An eagle sails out of the 
drivii^ mist above us, and a hut half buried in the snow is 
seen. It is the government station of Mali Halan. We are 
still in Croatia, but the top of the pass (3483 feet) must be 
close at hand. Making a sharp turn through jagged cliffs, we 
pass a frontier post. This is Dalmatia. 

As if in sympathy with our ardent desires, the clouds lift, 
slowly disclosing a world of crags and precipices; a gray 
world, without a touch of green; no budding beech-trees 
here, — indeed, no trees at all, nor bush, nor spear of grass, 

— naught but the grandeur of towering peaks beneath a 
threatening sky. Down the inclines we wind and twist, the 
turns are broad and no cassis impede our flight, and the snow 
soon disappears behind us. We stop to lower the hood, and 

— "What is that inscription on the cliff?'' cries the Enthu- 
siast. "I can see it is not Slavic." 

The Leader goes over to investigate, and returns with the 
following lines in his note-book and a touch of emotion in 
his voice: 

Alia memoria del gendarm FRANasco Fracasso il 

QUALE NEL GIORNO 27 MaGGIO 1 85 1 IN DIFESA DELDA PrO- 
PRIETA CADE COMBATTENDO CONTRO 22 ASSASSINI. 

(To the memory of the soldier Francisco Fracasso, who on 
the twenty-seventh of May, 185 1, while protecting property, 
fell fighting against 22 assassins.) 

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What a picture it brings to us here in this desolate spot! 
The hopeless struggle, the death for duty's sake! 

As we continue our journey the mist rises, and an in- 
describably magnificent panorama is revealed; the ribbon- 
like highway clings to the mountain side, — twelve different 
levels can we trace before it takes its arrow-like coiurse 
across the plain, — that plain which soon resolves itself into 
a series of terraces, with the blue lakes of Novigrad and 
Karin like jewelled bosses on its pearly breast. 

At the west opens the Canale della Montagna. The 
long rays of the afternoon sun touch the small white villages 
of Starigrad and Tribanje, Nona, the Island of Pago; and 
far oflf Lussin, where rises Monte Ossero in dream-like out- 
line. The faintly glittering sea is studded with tiny reefs 
and islands of varying sizes, extending as far south as 
Sebenico. 

At the southeast rise the snowy Svilaja Mountains beyond 
the Krka River, and still farther away the Dinarian Alps 
upon the Bosnian boundary. The great northwestern penin- 
sula of Dalmatia lies unfolded like a map before us, 
with the white walls of Zara seventy kilometers away. Yes, 
Dalmatia is wonderful, and this is surely the best way to 
enter it, — dropping from the clouds, as it were, — securing 
the first impressive picture in its length and breadth before 
descending to inspect it bit by bit. 

Under overhanging precipices and over deep ravines we 
slide down in long loops. Suddenly far below us a collection 
of ant-like objects appears upon the road. At nearer view 
these resolve themselves into a caravan of at least fifteen 

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wagons, drawn up in single file upon the outside of that 
mountain highway, where no parapet protects them from 
falling into depths some hundred feet below! Evidently the 
men are on their way up the pass, and on account of the grade 
and heavy loads, have no fear that their horses will run far; 
but they take all possible precautions, blocking each wheel 
with a large stone, and placing themselves at their horses' 
heads to await our onslaught. Although we advance very 
slowly, with engine off, at sight of us the first horses instantly 
shy, throwing the whole line into confusion. We are terror- 
stricken! What can prevent them from going over the em- 
bankment ? Why have they not at least taken the inside of 
the road ? But the teamsters speak soothingly to their poor 
beasts, with an apologetic expression toward us. 

We found this attitude all through Dalmatia. The 
peasants seem to say: ^' You must excuse us and our igno- 
rant animals. We know we are behind the times, but we 
want to see what is going on in the world. We welcome 
strangers and the strange new carriages. Do not be angry 
with us, — we wiU grow accustomed, in time, to the noise 
and the smell, for we too wish to be civilized." 

Of course we stop at once and the chauffeur goes for- 
ward to assist in untangling broken harnesses and in calm- 
ing the frightened animals. After a few moments they seem 
to appreciate our harmlessness and permit us to glide slowly 
by, thankful that matters are no worse. 

Across the high plateau lying to the southwest of the 
Velebit Mountains we merrily speed, — where only the small 
huts of the shepherds, dotted here and there, keep us com- 

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pany , and a tiny chapel lifts its cross by the wayside, — past 
the hamlet of Mekdolac, — and approach Obrovazzo, or 
Obrovac, the end of the Velebit Pass. 

This great piece of engineering, connecting Zara with 
the highway between Karlstadt and Knin, was constructed 
in 1829-32. It is twenty-one feet wide, with nowhere a 
grade of more than five per cent, and is twenty-three kilo- 
meters (fourteen and three-eighths miles) in length between 
Obrovac and the Dalmatian frontier on the top of the pass. 

It is possible to go by water from Obrovac to Zara, by 
way of the Zrmanja River, the sea of Novigrad, the canal 
della Montagna, stopping at Pago, and on through land- 
locked channels. This is a delightful sail of about nine and 
a half hours. Obrovac is charmingly situated at the bottom 
of a narrow ravine through which flows the Zrmanja River. 
The small steamer lies at its dock below the ruined castle on 
the hill in wonderful green water. 

Fruit-trees are in bloom and the air is soft and mild. 
The inhabitants rush out to see us but we make no pause, — 
the hours of daylight are slipping away. From the quays 
they watch our upward flight, as we climb in short windings 
to the plateau separating this shut-in valley from the Lake 
of ELarin. The red sun is sinking in a burst of glory over the 
waters of Novigrad ; long brilliant rays shoot up into the sky 
and turn to rainbow tints the rocks and sagp-brush of the roll- 
ing desert. On the protected slopes around Lake Karin both 
grain and grapes are growing, — a welcome change from the 
gray landscape we have passed through. Over the inlet 
connecting the two lakes, a strong bridge is in coiurse of 

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construction, and the temporary structin^ looks so insecure 
that we slow down to reconnoitre; but from a group 
of picturesque peasants a friendly Franciscan brother 
steps forward and with gestures of reassurance beckons us 
to cross. After exchanging salutations with the kindly 
friar we ascend a last steep incline in loops, catching 
glimpses of the monastery in its sheltered cove beside the 
lake. 

At the top, to our surprise, our road, — as far as the eye 
can see, — lies straight and smooth and empty! Only the 
heart of a true automobilist can appreciate the delicious sen- 
sations which such a sight produces! Without a word, the 
chauffeiu: bends over his wheel, each one of us snuggles down 
into his or her heavy wraps, and in rapturous flight we race 
with the gathering dusk. 

Through alternate rock-bound pastures where flocks of 
sheep are watched by gayly gowned young girls — some of 
them distaff in hand; by small settlements embowered in 
fig and olive trees; past a Turkish fortification rising from 
stony meadows where flourish low juniper bushes; past 
Smilcic and Zemonico, both upper and lower, we hasten, 
for the light is growing fainter and fainter. 

Hardly do we perceive the mulberry trees bordering the 
route near Babindub! Scarcely can we distinguish the sea 
as we approach its dark expanse; but the lights of a fairy 
city begin to gleam in the distance. Nearer and nearer they 
come; a tiny harbor, mediaeval .lis, and an imposing gate- 
way — the Porta Terraferma. Through this, in perfect 
confidence, the Leader signals. 

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^^Tum to the left two blocks, and then to the right"; 
and we stop at the Hotel Bristol, Zanu We have travelled 
only (me hundred and twenty-nine miles to-day; but have 
crossed two mountain passes, one of 2326 feet and the other 
of 5483 feet, starting from and returning to the sea. 



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CHAPTER VI 
ZARA 

/^OOD FRIDAY! 

A never-to-be-forgotten morning at Zara! 

As I throw open the shutters the whole exquisite scene is 
disclosed; the soft sky, the pearly slopes of the mountainous 
islands, the limpid water, the fishing-smacks at anchor 
beyond the low embankment. Even the black-and-red 
steamer approaching the pier is transformed by the match- 
less light into an object of beauty. An Austrian officer has 
kindly loosened his blue cape, which falls in graceful folds 
as he strides smartly by. A Roman priest, in black cas- 
sock, red sash, and broad-brimmed hat, eagerly exchanges 
views with a stolid parishioner, and two lovers of the beauti- 
ful are having their morning coflfee on the terrace below 
"en plein air,^^ 

A woman in a blue gown, red hose, and white kerchief 
walks slowly by, balancing a three-gallon can of milk on her 
head; on her arm she carries a heavy tin pail, thus leaving 
her hands free for her knitting. A fisherman's boat moves 
leisurely along with limp and flapping sail, two men stand at 
the oars, their red caps nod in unison. The clumsy black 
craft passes all too soon but here is another one painted blue. 
The white shirts of the oarsmen gleam in the sunshine and 
their constant chatter rises faintly to my upper window. This 
boat is laden with pine branches which exhale their pungent 

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fragrance in the placid air. Are these for Easter decorations, 
I wonder? Here below the quay which has replaced the 
ancient dty walls the water is so deep that the boats pass 
dose, and the men may exchange greetings with the passer- 
by. When the discussion becomes especially intense, the 
boat is stopped at one of the stone pillars along the way and 
the owner comes ashore to enforce his theories. 

Aie the colors really more gorgeous in themselves, or is 
it <xily the atmospheric effect? That golden brown of the 
velveteen on the lad who lounges byl That rich tan of the 
flying sail bound for the opposite isle! A faded green hull 
drifts by with a woman leaning on a long oar. Is she really 
helping or merely making an exquisite picture in her snowy 
coif and dull blue gown? In another boat the whole family 
are evidently out for an airing as a kerchiefed child squats 
upon the covered prow and a baby crows from his mother's 
arms. Flocks of terns, those graceful swallows of the sea, 
whirl and dart over the rippling waves. How restful is the 
stiUnessI No railroad or trolley within sixty milesl No 
steam tugs or cranes or whistles! The ships and fishing- 
boats move noiselessly. Even the occasional steamer slides 
with bated breath throu^ the waters of this enchanted sea. 
My thou^ts follow her in idle reverie. 

''Do you intend to spend your entire day gazing out that 
window?" calls a mocking voice from the neighboring 
balcony. 

''Oh, no indeed! Of course not I want to see it 
all, but ooukl anything be more fascinating than this?'' And 
my hand moves vaguely over the constantly changing scene. 

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"Where first?" I demand, as we stroll toward the pier. 

"I suppose you know that the cathedral here is a famous 
one," begins the Leader. 

"What is that women carrying?" I interrupt. "Can it 
be a tiurkey? And do look at her full short skirts, gay 
apron, and leggings! Oh, I must try to get a kodak of 
her." And I gaze carefully in the opposite direction as the 
unconscious poseuse approaches. 

"Did you see her embroidered kerchief?" I cry, as she 
passes. "And oh! there axe some more over by the post- 
office." 

I try to walk sedately, not stare too intently, and yet to 
grasp in all its details this gay and lively scene. For this is 
our first experience with the barbaric costumes of the Mor- 
lacchi and no background could be more effective than these 
gray stones and stucco walls beneath this cloudless sky of 
Zara. Descending from the land of Rascia in the f oiuteenth 
century these swarthy Slavs settled in the interior of Istria 
and along the canals of northern Dalmatia. The name 
Morlacchi is derived from the Slav words "Mauro Vlach," 
meaning " black Wallachs." 

The market-place is resplendent with oranges and onions, 
lemons, wild asparagus, and chicory, under scarlet awnings 
in the dazzling sunshine. Gayer than all are the moving 
groups of picturesque peasants. Such bravery of color! 
Such gorgeous raiment! Such charming caps and kerchiefs! 
Such bags and belts and baskets! 

For be it known that each island of the Quamero, each 
village on the mainland, even each sect in that village, 

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whether Greek or Roman, has its own peculiar dress. The 
men vie with the women in splendor, for their red caps and 
sashes, blue trousers slit at the ankle to disclose the embroid- 
ered leggings, waistcoats shining with silver buttons, and 
white lamb's-wool coats thrown over the shoulders form an 
attire both comfortable and becoming. Most of the men and 
women wear the opanka^ or leather sandal, laced and curious- 
ly worked with string. But alas! even here civilization ^s 
about to encroach upon picturesqueness, for a long row of 
baskets filled with clumsily made low shoes, evidently the 
very latest imported fashion, are attracting many purchasers 
in the market-place. 

At one comer, leaning lightly against a colunm, stands a 
beautiful young girl with the air of a Greek goddess, clasping 
in her hands a basket of snowy eggs. Should any one choose 
to buy, well and good, — but she scorns to persuade. 

Not far away a worthy dame exposes for sale her stock of 
olive oil. It stands beside her in a brightly polished kero- 
sene can with a glass carafe full of it as a sample. She 
squats comfortably on the ground, a customer approaching 
assumes also the Japanese posture, sniffs the small carafe 
and tastes its contents. There is much discussion as to 
quality and price, both enjoying thoroughly the good-natiured 
banter. After some mmutes, the bargain being completed, 
the purchaser extracts a bottle from his saddle bags, pours 
the rich oil into it, and saunters on in search of other 
bargains. 

We stroll from group to group. There is no monotony 
of costume, no two are dressed precisely alike. Some 

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women are distinguished by a short jacket, others by a long 
sleeveless coat, others by a fringed native shawl, but all axe 
decked with odd barbaric jewelry, rings and beads, brooches 
and a curious medal called a ^' Maria Theresa.'' This is a 
silver five-kronen piece made in Dalmatia, encircled with a 
fixed style of filigree and the whole gilded. 

Suddenly, in the distance, appeared two attractive figures, 
their stiff brocaded aprons glistening in the simlight, their 
"Maria Theresas" carefully displayed beneath their knotted 
kerchiefs. 

"I am going to ask them to pose for me," I muttered. 

Before a remonstrance could stop me I was endeavoring 
by gestiures to explain my desires. They spoke nothing but 
Slavic. For such an unheard-of request, however, the ser- 
vices of a linguistic policeman were necessary. Just outside 
the Porta Marina we found an accommodating official, who 
explained our meaning in loud tones to the bewildered peas- 
ants and in an equally loud voice translated into Italian 
their smiling affirmatives. If I could only have photo- 
graphed the group, the interested onlookers, the ancient lion 
of St. Mark looking down from the city gatel But the light 
was wrong and I succeeded in getting only faint reproductions 
of these comely country women. 

"The cathedral," began the Leader again, and we 
turned a comer to face its lovely cream fofode. 

"It does recall the Duomo at Pisa," I granted, "and it is 
charming. The arches and attached colunms being grad- 
uated give just enough variety and play of light and shade." 

"The two rose windows are later work, Jackson says," 

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continued the Leader, "but as a whole it is considered the 
finest fofode in Dalmatia." 

"How beautiful the campanile is!" exclaimed the 
Enthusiast. 

"Yes, it carries out exactly the style of the period, al- 
thou^ it did not receive its two crowning stories until with- 
in the last few years. They are from designs by the 
distinguished English architect, Mr. Jackson.'' 

The Dalmatians are a deeply religious people. No 
chimes were heard that whole long day, no clocks struck, or 
bells of any kind. The flags on the club-house, the post- 
office, and all the government buildings, as well as on the 
passing steamers, were at half mast. For was it not Good 
Friday? 

Not only the cathedral was crowded with worshippers, 
but also San Simeone, where we joined the admiring throng 
who mounted the narrow stairway behind the shrine. The 
body of the saint who held the infant Christ at the Presenta- 
tion lies here, enclosed in a magnificent silver Area pre- 
sented by the unfortunate Queen Elizabeth of Hungary in 
1377. This is not only a splendid specimen of goldsmith's 
art but also interesting for the scenes from contemporary 
history depicted upon its carved panels. Formerly it "was 
supported on four angels of silver. These were melted 
down at the time of the war between Venice and Cyprus, 
and have been replaced by two of stone and two of bronze 
made from cannon taken from the Turks and given to Zara 
by Venice in 1647." (F- H. Jackson.) 

At San Francesco, after examining the Gothic choir stalls 

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which h^ve been called ''among the finest in Dalmatia/' 
we went into the sacristy where hung a beautiful old picture 
in an elaborate blue and gold Gothic frame. This was 
something for which we were not prepared. 

"Who painted it?" we demanded of the young Francis- 
can. 

"I do not know," he answered. "It came from Ugljan, 
was sent to ^nna for restoration, and has been here only 
five or six years." 

"It is certainly fifteenth century," murmured the Leader. 

"Perhaps," indiflferently replied the youthful friar, and 
endeavored to lead us on to other treasures in the usual 
round. But it is not every day that one discovers a new 
painting by an old master, and we stood in thou^tful con- 
templation before the sweet-faced Madonna with the Christ 
chfld on her knees. On either side of her were St. Peter 
Martyr, St. Ambrogio, St. Francis, St. Jerome and a tur- 
baned saint, whfle above and below were medallion heads of 
other saints all on a glowing gilt backgroimd. 

" Have n*t you a photograph of it ? " asked the Enthusiast. 

"No, it has never been taken," asserted the monk, more 
and more astonished at oxu* enthusiasm. "Yes, it is indeed 
a beautiful picture." And he looked at it curiously, as if he 
saw it for the first time. 

Wandering through the narrow streets of this mediaeval 
dty we came upon a gracefully ouiring apse and stopped to 
admire its arcaded gallery. 

"It must be San Grisogono," hazarded the Leader. 

Before the entrance little children in groups of twos and 

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threes, the older ones leading tmier tots by the hand, kept 
lifting the heavy curtain to pass in and out. 

^^San Grisogono is the patron saint of Zara/' read the 
Leader; ^^his body was brought here from Aquileia in 649. 
The interior of the church has been modernized." 

"Why is it that only children are visiting this church?" 
asked the eager Inquirer. "Can't we go in a minute?" 

The interior was dark and still. At the farther end the 
ahar was illuminated with small cups of oil on which floated 
lighted wicks screened by texts illuminated on vellum, simple 
texts that the children could understand. On the pavement 
beneath the altar, pots of creamy grasses, each glowing with a 
mysteriously hidden light, outlined a great white cross. How 
chaste and sane a symbol for this holy day! What a con- 
trast to the agonizing figure which, in varying degrees of 
realistic detail, is usuaUy exposed for the adoration of the 
faithful! 

Zara, or 2^adar, the Roman Jadar, the capital of Dal- 
matia, is an attractive dty, built upon a long peninsula and 
surrounded still on all sides except the sea front, by its six- 
teenth century fortifications. To be sure, some of these 
have been modified. Above the Porta Marina a shady 
promenade has been planted, where, on that sunny morning 
in the springtime, the elm-trees were heavy with blossom. 
Leaning over the parapet, we traced the narrow entrance to 
the port, where, in days of old, chains stretched from shore 
to shore kept out the enemies' fleet. In this small, quiet 
harbor the Romans and Dalmatians, or descendants of the 
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and CioatianSythe Hungarians, Bosnians, and Turks, the 
Frenchi and finally the Austrians have each in turn fought 
for supremacy. 

How peacefully the yachts and steamers lie now upon the 
quiet waters! With what security ships from far and near 
cast their anchors here and greet the swarming small boats 
that come to give or take the cargo! Fishing-smacks from 
the Croatian coast, Chioggia, Lesina and many neighboring 
islands, are moored at the quay. Their brilliant sails are 
utilized for awnings and on the shaded decks lounge vari- 
colored groups. Back and forth through the Porta Marina, 
the fisher folk pursue their occupations, while we look down 
in keen enjoyment upon the shifting scene. 

At the farther end of the Riva Vecchia, a broad street is 
being opened through the old walls which will doubtless add 
to the material prosperity of the dty. The foundations of 
a magnificent Roman triumphal arch have thus been un- 
earthed for the second time, and it is to be hoped that some 
way may be found to preserve them in their present situation. 

Before the Giardino Pubblico, planted on an ancient 
bastion, is an open square containing five poasiy or wells, all 
commtmicating with one vast cistern, where the water, 
after being elaborately filtered and purified, is free to the 
citizens of Zara. As we linger in the shade of a neighbor- 
ing guard house, a sturdy, short-skirted damsel comes 
swiftly across the hot flagged square, and resting her wooden 
tub upon the curb, fills it from the cool well. I cannot but 
feel that I am looking on at a bit of stage life. The setting is 
perfect, — except for her, the place is deserted. We stand 

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motionless as she lifts the brimming vessel to her head and 
moves off steadily down the long shadowy street. 

^^I am sure it is time for limcheon/' suddenly exclaims 
Madame G>ntent, and we return to the hotel to test the 
variety of sea-food exposed on tempting trays in the big 
restaurant. Fresh from the water, they are brought in 
listening and palpitating, the dentaUj the branzino, and 
many others whose names I never learned. Delicious were 
they, and well cooked. In fact, all the food was excellent, 
but the proprietors had a strange aversion to fresh air. The 
double windows were not only nailed down, but it seemed 
as though every chink was stuffed with cotton. The doors 
were carefully kept closed, and smoking was permitted, nay, 
encourage, at all hours of the day or night. However, we 
were far more comfortable than we had expected to be in 
Dalmatia. Our own rooms were fairly dean and the pil- 
lows were of feathers. There was a bath-room, too, in the 
hotel, where a liot bath could be obtained on giving notice 
oi an hour and a half! To be sure there was no lift and our 
rooms were in the third story; but every one knows that 
going up and down stairs is one of the best forms of exercise. 
Itowever, what compensated us for these lesser inconven- 
iences was the possession of a tiny balcony facing the sea and 
the western sky. The bare limestone crags of Ugljan were 
just far enou^ away to catch and give back the fuU radiance 
of the morning sun. And at evening what glorious cloud 
effects were reflected in the shinmiering water! 

But Saturday it rained. To be sure the tiny row-boat 
tied to the buoy all the day before had plenty of companions 

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in this propitious weather. A trabaccdi glided gently 
over the oily water with one orange sail and one of browner 
hue. Slowly they filled with the mild south wind and disap- 
peared toward the village of S. Euphemia. Throu^ the 
mist loomed the distant fortress of S. Michele, ax>wning the 
heights of Ugljan. 

"We haven't seen the Museum yet," suggested the 
Leader. 

It proved to be well worth a visit. Agreeably displayed 
in the roimd ninth century church of San Donato, — in 
itself a treasure to the archaeologist, — were Roman frag- 
ments and jewek, Greek vases and other antiquities from 
Aquileia, a collection of coins and inscriptions, Lombard 
and medieval reliefs, historical objects, and bits of archi- 
tectural decoration. The woman in charge permitted us to 
wander about and examine at our leisure whatever attracted 
us. No other visitors distracted her attention. She an- 
swered our questions intelligently and bade us God-speed 
when we departed, quite as if in her own domain. 

It has been said, that in Dalmatia a stranger will find 
much to surprise and perplex him. ^'He wiU wonder at the 
extremes of civilization he encoimters, ranging from high 
culture to something lower than semi-barbarism; and above 
all, he will be perplexed by the existence, imaccountable to 
those who have not studied Dalmatian history, of the two 
elements in the population, — Latin and Slavonic, — which 
for twelve centuries have lived on, side by side, without los- 
ing their difference." (Jackson.) In the shops the people 
speak Italian; the signs, too, are in that language. // 

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Piccda delta Sera arrives daily from Trieste and II Dal- 
mate is published twice a week in Zara. 

This is the only Italian municipality in Dalmatia and 
here are the only Italian schools. Forty years ago Italian 
was used generally in the schools throughout the coimtry, 
then for a short time German was introduced, but now that 
branch of the Slavic tongue called Servian-Croatian is, 
according to recent authorities, "universal." Instead of 
using that cumbersome compound I have followed the 
example of modem writers and designated the language of 
these Slavs as Slavic. 

Just south of Zara, on the coast, is the small Albanian 
village of Borgo Erizzo which has an interesting history. In 
1726, when Vincenzo Zmajevich was made archbishop of 
Zara, he brought with him from Perasto, his native town, 
twenty-seven families of Albanians who shortly before this, 
fleeing from the atrocities of Mehmed Begovich, pasha of 
Albania, had sought his protection. Count Erizzo, who then 
commanded the fortress of Zara, assigned them land near 
by- Being sober and industrious they prospered and in- 
creased until now they nimiber about three thousand 
souls. The women work in the factories imtil they marry, 
after which they remain at home. The men own vineyards 
and fields within a radius of seven or eight miles. 

We took a very personal interest in the Hungarian Lloyd 
steamer which arrived at half-past five that afternoon, bring- 
ing the Paris mail. It was a pretty boat, white with a red 
band about the black funnel and a white star on the red. 
Many port-holes and a roomy deck indicated its concession 

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to the passenger service. The crowd that welcomed it 
formed a moving mass of black umbrellas, for the rain was 
steady if light. At six the steamer started once more upon 
her way, but it took two long hoxurs to distribute and deliver 
that precious mail. 

In the Piazza dei Signori is the Biblioteca Paravia, the 
gift of a benevolent citizen of Zara. This occupies the 
ancient court of justice, a fifteenth century loggia. The 
street connecting this piazza with the Duomo is the fashion- 
able promenade and on that Easter Simday afternoon it was 
filled with a throng of well-dressed persons. But one might 
have been in Rome or Glasgow, in Boston or in Mimich, so 
far as any local color was concerned. 

"How monotonous a world entirely civilized would be!" 
exclaimed the Enthusiast in a disappointed tone. "Let 's go 
over to the Porta Marina.'' So we wandered back to the 
shady walk on the old dty walls above the little harbor. 
Alas! Not a fishing-boat remained beside the Riva Vecchia! 
Gone were the craft from Chioggia, from Croatia, from 
Arbe and her sister islands! Deserted was the market- 
place and empty the Fossa! Back to their own villages had 
returned the Morlacchi and all the picturesque coimtry folk! 
What a different impression Zara would have left upon us 
had we missed that brilliant market-scene on the morning of 
Good Friday! 



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CHAPTER Vn 

SCARDONA— FALLS OF KRKA— SEBENICO 

nr^HE morning that we leave Zara for Sebenico is cloudy, 
with brief spatters of sunshine. As the coast road goes 
only as far as Pakoscane, we tium away from the Adriatic 
and journey inland throu^ avenues of chestnuts, almonds 
already green, elms, and cherry-trees heavy with blossoms. 
In this pebbly soil, olives, vines, and vegetables flourish 
astonishingly. Walls of green brambles border an excellent 
road. Plantations of pine alternate with sheep pastures 
and fields of grain. Farther on, the hawthorn hedges 
are in flower and beside them bloom large pink anenK>nes 
and asphodel. Looking back from the top of a hill we 
have a beautiful view of Zara, lying lightly on the sea like an 
outpost of Venice. 

At Zemonico are the ruins of a cavalry station fortified 
by the Venetians against the Turks. Here in 1346 Ladislas 
o( Hungary encamped with 100,000 men, ostensibly to 
assist the 2^aratines who were besieged by the Venetians, 
but like the King of France in the nmrsery rhyme, who 

''Went up tbe hiU 
With twenty thousand men; 
The King of France came down tbe hill, 
And ne'er went up again.'' 

So Ladislas appears to have done nothing on either side, 
and after a few weeks he took his army back to his 

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own country again. The plain has a peaceful appearance 
at present, and nothing more inimlral than barking dogs 
pursues us as we speed through the village. We are 
afraid of running over them, and the Gentle Lady is 
obliged to threaten so vigorously with her whip that she 
drops it. 

"Oh, wait! I 've lost my whip," she cries, but we are 
half a mile away before we stop. As we start back, a 
friendly lad comes running toward us, bearing our precious 
weapon, and he refuses to accept anything for his services 
but our hearty thanks. 

So far, we had retraversed the highway which brought 
us to Zara; but just beyond Zemonico we tmned south, and 
after four kilometers more the road lay straight before us the 
entire distance to Biljane. According to tradition, on this 
plain of Grobnica the Tartars met defeat in the thirteenth 
century. It is a pleasant coimtry with green willows, 
more fields of grain, many vines and olives, even fig-trees 
in sheltered nooks. 

Peculiar to these limestone regions are shallow lakes 
formed by the winter rains. In the spring the water gradu- 
ally recedes, leaving a rich soil in which the crops are planted, 
so that by midsmnmer the whole is a waving mass of green. 
One of these, known as the Lake of Nadin, now appeared in 
the distance, but gradually the Karst reasserted itself and the 
small shepherdess in her lamb's-wool coat and crimson cap 
became once more a feature in the landscape. 

Biljane is a hamlet of half a dozen houses, with perhaps 
as many more scattered through the fields. Here our course 

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turned to the southeast, sharply dividing the rich valley on 
the left from the rocky waste on the other side. The way was 
st(Hiy but we met no vehicle and hence could stay in the 
smooth wheel tracks. Clusters of low houses guarded 
the crops on the southern slopes. It seemed curious that the 
road should pursue the even tenor of its way without regard 
to them, but it was probably built for military purposes and 
took the shortest route between two points. 

At Benkovac the Karin, Novigrad, and Vrana hi^way 
crossed our own route. Here a dismantled castle had a 
certain charm of age and our Leader strove to interest 
us in it. But our attention could not be distracted from 
the gorgeously dressed populace, who gathered in fright- 
ened groups about the doorways and peered eagerly at us 
from well-guarded comers, for this was Easter Monday 
and we had arrived just as service was over in the little 
church. 

^^Oh, do go slowly," we begged from the back seat; so 
we loitered on the long ascent until we had scanned each 
pictiuesque peasant to our heart's content. 

^'In these marshes," said the Leader, pointing toward 
Vrana, ^^ many ancient stone pipes have been discovered. 
They are believed to have been part of an aqueduct which 
Trajan built for the Roman colony at Zara. For similar 
inpes have been f oimd on the share near Borgp Erizzo and 
2^ara Vecchia and in the ruins on top of the hill Kastelj, 
above the Lake of Vrana. Here near Biba was a spring 
which probably supplied part of the water." 

Near the thirty-ninth kilometer post we spied a stately 

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chateau or fortress on a summit at our right. Instinctively 
I reached for Baedeker and sighed as I remembered how 
inadequate he is in the interior of Dahnatia. 

^^It must be the castle of Perusic/' explained the Leader. 
^^I don't think we can see from here the famous ruins of 
Asseria, although they must be near. It was one of the 
important cities of Libumia, Pliny sa]rs." 

^^The Castle of Perusic, a most imposing pile of mediaeval 
fortification which is often mentioned in the warfare of 
Turks and Venetians during the sixteenth century, and is, 
I believe, still partially habitable. It seemed to consist of a 
square enclosure with curtain walls and towers, and a huge 
castellated building within." (Jackson, 1885.) 

Beside a wayside fountain, a woman stood in unconscious 
grace, twirling her spindle rapidly. A magpie distiurbed 
by our clatter flew slowly before us. The dusty diligence 
from Benkovac to Elnin passed us; and suddenly we re- 
alized that the Karst had been driven back to the hill- 
tops, and once more ploughed fields, fruit-trees, and flower- 
ing elms surroimded us. The tiny Morpolaca River on our 
right flows into the shallow lake of Prokljan, and as we 
begin the ascent, following the northeast boimdary of the 
marsh, Mt. Ostrovica rises on our left. 

Here our fiuther progress is apparently blocked by a 
curious buttress of rock, but as we slow down in momentary 
hesitation, a carriage ( I) appears from behind it. This ancient 
landau, brown and rusty, is not only filled to overflowing 
with crimson-capped countrymen, but bears upon its top a 
load of "knobby " articles, presumably potatoes, guarded by 

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a vociferous small dog. The horses are too weary to be 
frightened and pass us without lifting an ear. 

We continue to travel over foot-hills, amidst herds of 
grazing cattle, sheep, and goats. The women courtesy from 
the doorways of their huts and the men doff their caps as we 
rumble through the gray village of Zavid. Just beyond a 
pine grove we perceive the ruins of Bribir on an eminence in 
the distance. At the Ponte de Bribir the road to the left 
goes on to Knin, that to the right to Scardona, which is our 
goal. In the Middle Ages this was an important comer, 
but now there is nothing here but a tumble-down inn where 
two or three peasants are loimging. 

Was not this Province the ancestral home of the famotis 
Stephen, Coimt of Bribir, who in 1247 ^^ created Ban of 
Slavonia and Dalmatia? His successors were virtually 
rulers of the coimtry, imder various titles, during the follow- 
ing himdred years. Indeed, by 1308, when Charles Robert 
became King of Himgary , the then Coimt of Bribir, Paul, was 
not only Ban of Croatia but ^^succeeded in getting himself 
elected Coimt of the maritime towns of Trail, Spalato, and 
Sebenico/' I suppose that means he was allowed the privi- 
lege of protecting them with his soldiers from any other foe. 
Zona, alone still swore allegiance to Venice; but it also was 
persuaded, after three years, to throw off that yoke, and to 
elect Paul's son Mladin to govern it. Mladin is a fascinat- 
ing hero; indeed, the history of these Coimts of Bribir would 
form by itself a volume well worth reading. 

Looking back from the modem village of Bribir, we 
enjoyed a splendid panorama of the hills and vales we 

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had traversed. The road improved. Near Krcma — these 
fantastic and extraordinary combinations of consonants 
delight mc! — we met two wagons loaded with hogsheads 
of wine. The drivers were resting within the inn and 
we dared not try to pass without notifying them. At the 
sound of our horn they rushed pell-mell from the house, 
shrieking directions at us and jerking their horses' heads, 
quite beside themselves with fear; but the horses took all 
this commotion very quietly. For five kilometers more we 
rode through alternate lands of plenty and barren waste, 
then crossed a small river and entered Scardona, stopping 
before a building where a sign read ^^ Restaurant Buljan.'' 

We within the tonneau looked at each other in dismay. 
We were hungry, too — but here? It seemed to us ex- 
tremely doubtful whether we could possibly find anything 
eatable here. But it was past twelve o'clock. The Leader 
had already dismounted and had disappeared through the 
dark doorway. A crowd, mostly men in fine old costumes, 
gathered about us. Polite but curious, they discoursed 
together in a tongue beyond our comprehension. Suppose 
at the inn, too, they spoke nothing but Slavic? We began 
to be more and more concerned as we waited for our chieftain. 
But when he did return, with smiling reassurance he ex- 
plained that he had been ordering our luncheon in a mixture 
of German and Italian, that the place was n't at all bad and 
he thought that we mig^t be very comfortable. 

^^ Where can I put the motor?" he asked, by signs as 
much as by spoken word. 

'* Why, here." And willing hands opened a shed door in 

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(SCAR DON a) 



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A URILLIAVF" CRmWI), S(\\RI)()\A 
IHK ri-RRV ACROSS IHK KRKA 



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the wall, hastily moving out an ox-cart to make room for our 
cumbrous car. The chauffeur carefully measured the open- 
ing so that there mi^t be no possibility of accident, and 
amid the awed admiration of the populace he backed the 
motor into its temporary home. 

We, meanwhile, had stumbled up the dim but spotless 
stairway and f oimd a neat room for our wraps and a quiet 
comer for our mid-day meaL The dishes were peculiar 
but palatable, especially the soup and a dessert called 
Dolce Grj 

But I could not keep away from the queer, box-like, 
double windows, beneath which the red-capped natives 
saimtered up and down, the light reflecting from their sOver 
buttons and giving more color to their gay sheepskin coats 
and silken sashes. I finally mustered up courage to ask one 
of these splendid creatures to pose for me. How kindly and 
courteous they werel Althou^ we must have been equally 
objects of curiosity to them, no crowd followed us as we 
wandered through the limited streets of the tiny town, but 
if we needed advice or assistance they were eager to be 
ci use. 

It was difficult to believe that Scardona was once an 
important dty, that she shared with Salcma and Narona the 
honors of capital. To be smre, that was in the days of 
maritime lUyricum about A. D. 9. The Avars first swept 
down upon her, and after 639 she seems to have been thrown 
back and forth between the Latins and the Slavs for centuries. 
She was rebuilt only to be sacked and burned again, imtil 
it is not surprising that nothing now remains of her former 

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greatness. Pillaged by our grewsome friends, the Uscocs, in 
1607, she revived, only to be condemned to final destruction 
by Napoleon in 1809. But there must be something very 
tenacious about the inhabitants of this small town. She 
purchased her safety by the payment of an enormous fine 
and has already developed a profitable silk industry. Surely, 
some day, she will be able to utilize the enormous water 
power which the Krka represents, and so become again an 
important commercial centre. 

We had heard that there was a ferry here on which we 
could cross the Krka River, but whether or not it would carry 
the automobile was the question. In four minutes from the 
Restamrant Buljan we had arrived at the broad bed of the 
stream and were inspecting the fiat barge with its protecting 
sides which lay at the quay. It looked very small, but 
cautiously we ran up on it, and to my surprise, at least, it did 
not perceptibly sink. A shepherd draped in his brown 
kabanica came aboard, and three men of varying aspects 
bent, standing, to the oars. Slowly the boat swept out upon 
the wide river. The sensation was not an altogether pleas- 
ing one to the feminine portion of the party. A rope, or 
chain, stretched across from shore to shore, would have 
inspired us with confidence, but no such guidance was at 
hand, and the creaking craft seemed to make small headway 
against the strong current. The Leader, perhaps to divert 
our minds from the swirling water, called our attention to 
the fact that although Scardona lay just behind the pine- 
dotted cliffs it was invisible. The boatmen were so inter- 
ested in my kodak that at times they almost forgot to row. 

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Why is it that, the world over, at sight of a camera the 
whole body involuntarily stiffens? 

Although it seemed much longer it was only fifteen 
minutes from the time we stopped to enter the ferry before 
we had started up the other bank of the Krka. Ascending 
the steep incline we were surprised, at a bend in the road, 
by a charming view of Scardona and Lake Prokljan. For 
miles and miles, on either side of this highway to Sebenico, 
the government has planted double rows of young trees on 
this otherwise barren tableland. It is a wise provision for 
the future and the road is a joy to the motorist. 

We, however, wish to see the famous falls of the Krka, so 
turn to our left at the first opportunity and follow a rough 
and narrow route to the north. Suddenly the flat tableland 
yawns apart, and far down in the canyon appears a rushing 
stream! The road drops down in four long winding loops 
until we are on a level with the river above the falls. We 
leave the car and walk on to various viewpoints below the 
roaring waters. How beautiful it is! The banks are 
thickly planted with Lombardy poplars and groves of a 
shrub which looks like sumac or ailanthus and whose twigs 
are covered with bursting red buds. 

"In fifty years the river has not been so high," we are 
toM. 

It is amazing how the small islands of trees and grasses 
withstand that timibling, crashing torrent. From its soiuxe 
in the Dinarian Alps near Knin to the sea-level at Sebenico 
the Krka descends in alternating level pools and high cas- 
cades; this is the eighth and last one and has been thu3 

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described by Mr. Jackson in his well-known book on 
Dalmatia: 

''The falls are on a really magnificent scale, reaching in 
various interrupted cascades all across the valley. The 
damp mist they throw up has encouraged a luxuriant 
vegetation, und the whole is embosomed in rich copses, 
through which there peeps in every direction the silver of 
numerous smaller cascades leaping down to join the main 
stream below. The river does not pour over the ledge in 
one unbroken sheet, as at Niagara, but in several independent 
cascades of various widths, the larg^ of which cannot be 
much less than 200 or 350 feet across. The total height of 
the falls, which are broken into several steps divided by 
stretches of glassy rapids, is said to be 170 feet. The upper 
fall is magnificent, formed by two streams falling together 
at an angle and uniting as they fall, but the lowest fall is 
perhaps the finest of all, thundering down into a great basin 
and throwing up clouds of spray, in which we saw a rainbow." 

Our own blue-backed swallows were circling in lovely 
curves above the swirling waters as we left the bed of the 
rock-girt stream and moimted once more to the tableland. 
It is only a ten-minute run from the comer where we regain 
the highway to the hotel at Sebenico, for the road is excellent. 
Passing a modem fortification, we get a charming view of the 
broad Krka where it meig^s into the sea, the islands beyond, 
and Sebenico crowned by its mediaeval castles. Down a 
long, straight, stone-paved street we gOi tum sharply to the 
right beside the Public Garden, cross the Marina, and stop 
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No one appeared in answer to our persistent tooting, so 
the Leader entered the deserted doorway to reconnoitre. 
It was the hour of the siesta — how could one expect a 
guest? The sleepy porter was finaUy aroused and per- 
suaded to take our bags up to some rooms facing the sea. 
Could we have some drinking water? He would inquire. 
Soon after, I heard the faintest murmur at my door and the 
fat landlady stole softly in without knocking, carrjdng a 
bottle of mineral water nearly as round as herself. ^^FrtgoJ^ 
she said, and the handle of the door came off in her hand as 
the wind slammed it. Nothing daunted, she went for tools 
and was soon back, bearing wire and a cutter with which she 
deftly fastened it on again. 

The landlord, the chef, the porter, even the chambermaid, 
assisted at the important function of ordering our dinner. 
The market-place was before the door and fresh peas looked 
very tempting. The rest we left to their discretion. 

It was only a little past four, none of us were tired, so 
we went out to get an impression of the town. How abso- 
lutely different is this port of Sebenico from the one at Zara! 
Neither could anything be more diverse than the appearance 
of the two cities. The flat peninsula of Zara, with its 
encircling walls and towering campanile, only serves as a 
charming contrast to this terraced town mounting the hill- 
side, with its domed cathedral and dominating forts. In 
the larg^ land-locked harbor a training ship was anchored, 
and through the tortuous channel sailed grimly a man-of-war. 
Near the pier lay a half-submeiged steamer which had gone 
down the week before. Already the wreckers were at work 

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raising her. An enterprising photographer with a studio 
overlooking the scene had taken advantage of his location 
to secure good pictures at different stages of the disaster. 
This was a bit of Western enterprise most surprising in this 
Eastern land. 

The pictures, as well as the ship itself, were surrounded 
by an interested crowd of country folk. The costumes of 
the women were more sombre here, although the red streak 
below the coarse brown serge petticoat and the orange ker- 
chief, topping the loose brown sleeveless sack, gave a touch 
of color, which added to the effect of the full white sleeves 
and bodice. The red caps of the men were smaller than 
any we had yet seen. The seams of their brown jackets 
were corded with magenta and the front covered with many 
rows of crinkly magenta fringe. These coats opened over 
double-breasted embroidered vests set with filigree silver 
buttons. 

In the Public Garden is a statue erected to Nicolo Tom- 
maseo, who died in 1874, aged 72 years. 

''I wonder who he was!" murmured the Enthusiast. 
Slowly and impressively the list of this celebrated man's 
attainments was read aloud, thereby causing the Enthusiast 
to blush for her ignorance. — "A philologist, philosopher, 
historian, poet, novelist, critic, psychologist, statist, poli- 
tician, and orator. He left nearly two himdred works." 
Surely his fellow-coimtrymen appreciated him and gladly 
honored him in this his native place. 

Up flights of steps from the quay we toiled, catching a 
glimpse of the apse above a band of curiously carved heads 

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THE PLEASANT-LO(^K.I\(i LIONS AT IHK ( VPHEDRAL 
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SCARDONA — SEBENICO 

before we reached the picturesque piazza where the cathe- 
dral stands. These sculptured heads are extremely inter- 
estingy as they depict the different types of the period, princes, 
scholars, courtiers, and peasants, both Slavic and Italian. 
Across the square extends the open loggia of a casino, and 
from either side wind up more stone-paved paths, which 
disappear under archways leading to houses on steep ter- 
races above. A Venetian window or door-frame at odd cor- 
ners gives one a thriU of reminiscent joy, and looking down 
from the farther end of the square, once more we see the 
Krka, broadening as it nears the sea. 

A pelting rain sent us home again, — "home" being 
wherever our bags happened to be unpacked. By the dim 
light of a single electric bulb I looked about my large apart- 
ment. Evidently it had been the parlor of the hotel, for the 
red velvet curtains and grand piano imparted an air of ele- 
gance to the simple bed and washstand. Later on I made a 
further discovery. Beneath the flimsily constructed floor 
was the restaurant, and the day being a holiday the merry- 
makers were driven by the rain from the terrace, where 
ustially they sang their songs of joy, to take refuge in that 
warm and comfortable spot. Ringing voices, not too well 
in tune, came to my drowsy ears, with the clink of heavy 
mugs and an undertone of lively conversation. This 
gradually diminished as the ^^wee sma' hours" drew 
nigh, until finally only one reveller was left, and as revel- 
ling all alone is wearisome work, even he subsided and 
quiet reigned. 

The next morning it was still raining and we thought 

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dubiously of the roads. The market in the square before 
our windows, however, opened in good season, the tenders 
of the booths, mostly women, standing just within the drip- 
ping awnings. I cannot say that trade was brisk, but every 
now and then a customer with yawning basket would appear 
and would bargain with as much deliberation as if clothing 
were impervious to slanting showers. 

** Shall we go on to-day, in spite of mud and water?" 

"Why not wait until the afternoon?'' — and I quoted 
my favorite maxim: "Rain before seven, dear before 
eleven." 

In this case I was justified, for by ten o'clock the rain 
had stopped and we sallied forth for new experiences. Now 
we appreciated the stone-paved stairways, for the rain had 
washed them dean and by proceeding slowly, we managed 
to climb to the cemetery just beneath the andent fort of 
San GiovannL We stopped to take breath at its locked 
gate and a dozen dancing little demons in rags surrounded 
us, begging for coins. 

"The key?" 

Two dirty youngsters darted down the steep incline 
after the custodCy returning in an incredibly short time 
with outstretched hands. But no! The key must be 
forthcoming first, which fact they accepted philosophically 
and retmned to their gambling for pepnies. It was some 
time before the healthy figure of a young woman came labor- 
iously up the hill carrying an iron key over a foot long. 

^^Eeco! " cried the small band of robbers, thrusting forth 
their dirty palms. 

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'Tatience! We must get some change first!" said the 
Leader* 

"Very well." They could wait, their game was inter- 
esting. The custode carefuUy locked the gate behind her 
as we entered the cemetery, and went up to the foot of the 
old fortifications. Here we obtained a magnificent view 
over the dty and the splendid harbor with its surrounding 
heig^its. It was a restful [dace, the lilacs — our first lilacs — 
were sweet with blossoms and primroses starred the grassy 
banks. 

"I wonder what Sebenico means/' idly ventured the 
Enthusiast. "Was it a Roman colony, too, like Zara?'' 

"No," answered the Leader, half-reading, half-relating. 
"Sebenico is not of Roman origin, but is first spoken of as 
a Croatian town. According to traditions, some brigands 
built a fort here, overlooking the sea, and surrounded it 
with a palisade, or Sibue^ hence the name Sibenik in Slavic, 
or Sebenico in Italian. It did not become important until 
after 1137, when the Croatian dty of Belgrad (Zara Vecchia) 
being destroyed by the Venetians, the inhabitants took 
refuge here, and in 1298 it was made a bishopric. Gradtially 
it became Latinized and although it suffered from various 
sieges and changes of masters, 'in the sixteenth century the 
arts and sciences flourished in this city more than in any other 
in Dalmatia.' In this period the cathedral was built — " 

"Oh! I should like to see the cathedral again,'' ex- 
claimed the Enthusiast. 

So duly rewarding the waiting gamins, we descended 
the countless steps and once more k)oked upon the creamy 

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walls of the Duomo, lingeied before its splendid Gothic 
portals, admiring especially the two pleasant-looking lions 
which guard the northern entrance. The barrel roof is 
constructed entirely of stone, which forms the inner ceiling 
as well. The dome, also, is of stone. Indeed, neither timber nor 
brick are used in any part of this noble building. Within, 
time has mellowed to an ivory tint the marble choir seats, 
the ancient walls and railings supporting tiny lions in various 
postures, and lent deeper shadows to the richly foliated 
band which, at the ceiling, encircles the church. But the 
famed baptistery, elaborate as it is and rich with much 
exquisite detail, leaves one with a sense of confusion and 
disappointment! 

We emerged to find the sun shining brightly, the clouds 
rolled away, and a wind which promised to dry the country 
roads. Could motorists ask for more ? 



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CHAPTER Vm 

SEBENICO VIA TRAU TO SPALATO 

' I ^HERE is a railroad from Sebenico to Spalato and up 
to Knin, "with two trains daily," we were proudly 
informed; "making the entire distance of fifty-six and one- 
half miles in three and one-half hours!" But the highway 
to Spalato goes via Zitnic, an extremely roundabout route. 
Is there no other way? Oh, yes, there is a road; but it is 
little used, going over the Boraja direct to Trafl and thence 
to Spalato. Is it possible to motor that way? Well, opin- 
ions differed as to that, some asserting it was aU ri^ 
and others assuring us that it was bad; but neither side 
could give us any details. After thinking it over we con- 
cluded to try the shorter route, following the railroad until 
be]^nd Vrpolje. The road-bed is firm and dry. By the 
wajrside blooms the ever-present genista, with asphodels and 
pink anemones; fruit and fig trees are bmrsting into leaf. 

"Oh, do see that mass of yellow by the railroad trackl'^ 
says the Enthusiast. "It is a new flower! Can't we get 
some?" 

"Probably we shall see it again," comforts the Leader, 
as we speed onward; for fields and ditches and fences 
separate us from those coveted blossoms. Curiously enou^ 
however, we do not see them again during the whole 
day, although we look industriously for thenL Later, on 
returning from the source of the Jadro, we find quantities 

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of them in a marshy spot amidst thorns and brambles. 
Some of these we gather and send to a wise man across the 
ocean, in order to kam their name and habit. 

But to return to our Spalato route. It proves of the same 
type as on the other side of Sebenico, desolate gray hills with 
occasional patches of green grain. At an angle in the road 
a church with many sheds confronts us, but no houses or 
people are in sight; not a wheel-track can be discerned on 
the whole well-graded highway. Sometimes low-growing 
coarse grass gives a touch of color to the roadbed. We 
cross a substantial five-arched stone bridge over the now 
nearly dry bed of a mountain stream; and, leaving the 
railroad, enter a canyon where sagp-brush and shaggy goats 
alone accompany us. 

Ascending very gradually by this forsaken government 
road, we come suddenly upon an oasis of almonds and figs, 
olives, cherries, and vines. How beautiful it is! No human 
habitation can we see, — yet some one must have planted 
them here in the midst of these boulder-covered fields. 
Leaving this garden spot we are once more traversing the 
hilltops, up and down, in apparently aimless wandering; 
the road, no longer good, is covered with sharp bits of rock, 
at sight of which the motorist shivers. 

Suddenly the car stops — and a sound of running water 
under the machine strikes consternation to our hearts. 
What is that? In an instant both men are out. It is the 
radiator! Can it be cracked? That would be a catastrophe 
indeed! There follow moments of tragic suspense when 
each imagination travels far; for if this be true it means at 

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least a week of waiting. And where? \^ we have to camp 
by the wayside or sleep in the automobile? Already I can 
fancy hordes of ravening wolves, — of course, they would be 
ravening, — or possibly a bear creeping down those rocky 
heights and across the descdate fields! But the Leader 
laughs at our forebodings; there are no bears in Dal- 
matia, nor wolves, nor wild animals of any kind except 
coyotes; the fact that we have seen no village since leaving 
Vrpolje, miles back, would indicate that we must soon come 
to one; oxen could draw the car there by taking time, and 
the priest or school teacher or mayor of the town would 
take us in while the chauffeiu: went to Trieste, or possibly 
further, for the needed parts. 

Meanwhile, an examination is being made. " It is only 
the rubber connection which is broken,'' the chauffeiu: finally 
announces, ^^ and I can fix it aU right. I 'U wind it with 
adhesive tape. That will last until we reach ^>alato and 
we can get a new piece of rubber there." 

Sighs of relief are exchanged by the sitters in the rear 
seat. 

''But we cannot run without water, and there is not a 
drop left in the radiator,'' continues he. 

At this, our eyes search the wide horizon; as before, there 
is not a house in sight. We have not met aot solitary per- 
scm the whole distance frcmi Sebenico, — either driving or 
riding or walking! The chauffeur is rapidly comfdeting 
his repairs, — still no sign of help; stir from the spot we 
cannot! 

''Of course there must be some one within a mile or two 

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idio cultivates these stony pastures so caiefuUy enclosed, 
but this may not be his day to visit them/' remarks the 
Leader. 

Is it in answer to our united longing that in the dis- 
tance at last appears a shambling lad ? He ambles up to the 
machine in curious contemplation, but the Leader inune- 
diately extracts the canvas pail from under the seat and points 
to its emptiness, looking in all directions and shaking his 
head. This language is universal. With ei^r gesttire the 
Slavonic youth points to the mountains; and, as we pre- 
sent him with the pail, he stretches his arms to their utmost 
extent to signify the distance; but is finally persuaded to 
the task. We watch him running swiftly down the road, 
leaping wall after wall in his flight across the fields, until 
he disappears in a hollow where trees denote the presence of 
the precious well. 

The birds sing blithely, the afternoon is young, the chauf- 
fer is getting on successfully, and we wait for the reappear- 
ance of our Heaven-sent help. If he runs, coming back, 
there will be little water in the pail by the time it reaches us; 
also, imless he knows enough to soak the canvas thoroughly 
first, the contents will soon leak out; but our forebodings 
are, as usual, utterly unnecessary. From afar we watch 
him cautiously climbing the stone walls, deliberately walk- 
ing up the long road, and our enthusiastic reception of 
him and his brinuning pafl seems to surprise as well as 
please him. 

Of course, a small pailful of water does not fill the 
radiator; but by some mysterious process of mind-reading, 

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the Leader manage to learn that only a kilometer or so 
beyond there is a wayside well with plenty of water in it, 
and we prepare to go on. 

Noticing how wistfully he eyes the car, the Leader 
motions the lad to sit down at his feet in it and cautions the 
chauffeur to run slowly, so as not to frighten him. We do 
run slowly; but, whether from fright or because this is his 
stopping-place, suddenly the boy steps off as he would from 
his ox-cart! We scream as he rolls on the rough road, 
luckily away from the machine; but by the time we have 
stopped and backed up to him he has risen, rubbing his 
bruised elbows and protesting that he is not hiut, though he 
looks a trifle pale, and we feel the need of language to ex- 
press our sympathy. Evidently when too late, he under- 
stands his miscalculation and bears us no ill will, and in 
five minutes we are stopping at the wayside well in an oasis 
at the foot of an embryonic village. 

Out from every doorway, down the steep hill, pour 
the entire population, men, women, and chiklreni Such a 
brilliant procession! Different costumes from any we have 
yet seen! It is bewildering! And with what keen apprecia- 
tion these people enjoy the species of circus chariot brought 
to their own doors. A gorgeously gowned young woman, 
evidently a bride, does not stop to drop the big cloak she 
is mending, but follows down the hill to see the wonderful 
si{^t. The others take a lively interest when my kodak is 
brought forth and assist me in posing her. Silver coins 
almost cover the front of her sleeveless jacket and her white 
kerchief is spotlessly clean. She is almost as attractive as 

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the unconscious shepherd with his kid tucked under his 
arm. 

^^I never can get used to those silly pancake-like caps on 
these broad-shouldered men!'' murmured Madame Content. 
''Do you see that one has an elastic, at the back, to keep 
hisonl" 

After this pleasant interlude we bowl over sterile hills 
with higher mountains rising on either side, the road con- 
stantly improving. A few scattered shepherds watching 
their flocks are our only companions until, at the end of a 
bng straight road, we reach a precipitous cliff and stop in 
keen delight. Far below us lies the sea-girt city of Trati, 
with its medieval walls and towers rising picturesquely 
from the water; and, beyond, the cloud-flecked peaks 
of the Dinarian Alps. Two miniature ships approach 
a fairy-like port, — it is Se^tto, with its steepled church 
and clustered houses. The islands of Solta, of Brazza, and 
even of Lesina, are gradually disclosed as we slip down in 
long loops through pine nurseries and fields of fragrant 
lentils. The descent is not always smooth; but the views 
are so splendid and varied that any discomfort of that kind 
is soon forgotten. 

Crossing ^^the silver streak of sea that saved the city 
from the Tartar hordes,'' we stop before the Porta di Terra 
Firma and dismount to see the city of Trail, or Trogir. 
From the masonry of this gate a cypress bush has sprung, 
which, according to local superstition, miraculously flour- 
ishes to hide the sculptured lion of St. Mark, that hated 
symbol of Venetian domination. Bits of Italian architectiue 

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gieet us from neighboring walls and dark, mysterious 
comers; a charming balcony, still well preserved; a group 
of quaint, arched windows; a well-curb in a tiny square; — 
as we wander through the deserted, dusky, narrow streets. 

It is but a short distance, really, to the centre of the 
dty, — the Piazza dei Signori, — where rises the splendid 
cathedral, the l(^gia or open-air Coiut of Justice, the dock- 
tower, and the Palazzo Communale, all of the foiuteenth 
century. It is a wonderfully interesting spot. The grace- 
ful campanile above the Galilee porch of the great church 
calls us with irresistible force, and we enter the round, arched 
doorway and stand transfixed with admiration before ^^the 
sumptuous western portal of the nave, — the ^ory not of 
Trail only, but of the whole Province, a work which in 
simplidty of conception, combined with richness of detail 
and marvellous finish of execution, has never been surpassed 
in Romanesque or Gothic art." (Jackson.) Erected in 
1340, its naive bas-reliefs give us many pictures of the life 
and costumes of that period; the huge lions guarding the 
entrance still preserve their original charm! ^^No nobler 
or more impressive beast was ever conventionalized by 
mediaeval fancy." 

As we enter the cathedral our eyes are lifted uncon- 
sdously to the lofty ceiling above the gray walls lighted but 
dimly by the narrow windows and '^ great western rose." 
At the farther end rises the elabomte baldachino over the 
altar with the octagonal pulpit and beautiful fifteenth cen- 
tury choir stalls before it. 

What endless ingenuity of design, what careful and deli- 

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cate execution, what playful fanqr went towards the for- 
mation of the stalls in the mediaeval cathedrals! Not only 
is each church individual, but almost each sculptiued seat, 
and a study of these curious carvings alone would fill a 
bulky volume. One is constantly surprised in Dalmatia, 
— which, some way, seems to belong to an Oriental civili- 
zation, — to find these Italian edifices often created by 
native architects, who, having absorbed the art of their 
Italian neighbors, developed an amazing skill. 

Across the square from the Duomo stands the loggia, 
so recently restored that its bright new roof of tile presents 
a somewhat incongruous aspect in contrast with the ancient 
rail and columns. The stone table of the judges is still in 
its original position on a dais at the east end, and the omni- 
present lion of St. Mark in high relief looks down from the 
wall behind it. Beyond the quaint clock tower is the Pa- 
lazzo Communale, also happily restored and containing in 
its cortile a delightful out-door stairway, reminding one of 
the Bargello in. Florence. Through the daiic, somewhat 
dirty streets we stroll to the bridge leading over to Bua, 
where we have a view of the striking Castel Camerlengo. 

This island of Bua, Bavo, or Boa, in Slavic Ciovo, is 
almost ten kilometers long, and protects the entrance to the 
ancient port of Salona. It was used by the Romans as a 
place of exUe. Later, one of the ancestors of the historian 
Lucius endowed a Franciscan monastery here. In 1432 
the city of Trafl built a refugp for the Benedictines, which 
became a favorite place of pilgrimage, but now this shrine 
is in a ruinous condition and shelters but two monks. 

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There is always a feast of color and movement alcmg 
the quays of these island cities and we are loath to leave, 
but Spalato must be reached heioxe nig^all, and soon we 
are on the wing again, amidst flowering snowballs^ century 
I^ants in blossom, and all the luxuriance of a Mediterranean 
vegetation. Mignonette grows wild along the way under 
the apple-trees that are bouquets of perfumed bloom. The 
road is excellent, built by the French, but following the old 
Roman road running close to the sea, at first, then back 
among vineyards and orchards through the Riviera of the 
Sette Castelli. This district takes its name from seven 
castles built as a protection against the Turks in the fifteenth 
and sixteenth centuries. These castles and the viUages 
which grew up about them are called: Castel Papali or 
Nehaj, Castelnuovo, Castel Vecchio, Castel Vitturi or 
Luksic, Castel Cambio or Kambelovac, Castel Abbadessa 
or Gomilica, Sucurac and CasteL 

Other Castelli there are along the shore in varying stages 
of picturesque decay, each with its tiny village, contiguous 
fields, and quaint traditions — Stafileo, Andreis, Cega, Quar- 
cO| and Dragazzo. Castel Vecchio is the oldest, founded in 
1476 by Cariolanus Cippico with booty gained in the war 
against Mahomet 11. Castel Abbadessa was erected by nuns 
and here the abbesses used to spend their sununers. Castel 
Sucurac is a corruption of Sut Juraj, the Croation for S. 
Giorgio. *^ The most ancient Croat docimient existing is a 
deed of gift of this place and church to the archbishop of 
Spalato, Pietro III., by the King Trpimir in 837 in ex- 
change for ^1 1." (F. H. Jackson.) " Wine of the Castelli, 

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honey of Solta, and milk of Bua'' is an ancient proverb 
which is still true. 

As we near the dty we notice the names become more 
Slavic, and the word ^' Split'' appears on the guide-posts, 
to our m]rstification. A Roman tomb close to the roadside, 
fragments of bas-reliefs built into modem huts, a cdimm or 
antique sculpture put to strange uses, — all these indicate 
that we are nearing Salona, the ancient Roman capital of 
Dalmatia. We cross the Jadro with a ^impse of rushing 
waters and a willow-fringed bank; glance hastily at Vranjic, 
or Piccola Venezia, as we surmount a low ridge and see just 
beyond us the dty of Spalato. 

Slowly we feel our way past the Porta Aurea, around 
sharp comers and abng the outskirts of the dty, imtil we 
reach the sea and the Grand Hotd Bellevue. 



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SPALATO 

CPALATO, Split, or Spljet, the largest city in Dalmatia^ 
has burst the bounds of Diocletian's Palace, in which 
she was once confined, and is now si»eading far beyond. 
Her harbor, with Monte Marjan on the west, has been 
protected by an enclosing mole five hundred and thirty 
yards long, extending to the Punta di Botticelle on the east 
and forming a sheltered bay where all manner of sea-craft 
find safe anchorage. At one time the Austrian admiralty 
were inclined to make this the principal military port, but 
on account of better railroad facilities the preference was 
fortunately given to Pola. 

Our hotel, — adapted from a former dty haU, — faced 
the quay and many were the scenes we witnessed from 
behind our curtained windows. \\^thin its stately loggia 
the automobile was kept in full view of the dty populace, 
both day and night. To be sure, ^idien imdergoing renova- 
tion it was surroimded by an admiring crowd, but imless 
the chauffeur was there the people never ventured near 
and nothing was disturbed. At the other end of the loggia 
we had our meab in the pleasant outer air, and groups of 
peasants roamed through the silent square or sat in patient 
VTaiting on post or step or curb. 

On one side of the square is the Court House; a modem 
building, soft yeUowish tan in cotor, with li^^ stone trim- 

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mingSy and not unpleasing in its quiet outlines. Beneath 
the statues on the roof, the lion heads on the fafade, the 
flagstaffs and the royal shields, are five entrances exactly 
alike. On the low door-sills sit beggars mufQed in heavy 
coats, — the men finding solace in their pipes, the women 
in regarding the men. I wonder at first what building pos- 
sesses such an attraction for city and country folks alike. 
Upon the narrow curb about the Franz Josef fountain 
lounge peasants in pictiu:esque groups. The women have 
aprons over their dark blue skirts and tight-sleeved shirts 
under the corded bodices. They draw their shapeless 
cloaks about them and peer out from the voluminous white 
kerchiefs which, concealing the red roll on their heads, 
are brought about in a half-Turkish, half-Italian fashion, 
so as to almost cover the mouth. Is it a survival of Oriental 
tradition, or are the poor creatures merely cold ? 

The men look anxiously across at the formidable door- 
ways of the Court House; every now and then one disappears 
within its darkness, — sometimes reappearing to beckon a 
selected one from the small group. Occasionally a pair of 
excited individuals come rushing out, shaking their fingers 
angrily in each other's face. Are they quarrelling ? Not at 
all. They are merely arguing a point at law. Evidently 
the Tribunale has as much fascination for these good people 
as for their brothers across the Adriatic. It is somewhat 
surprising to an American, however, to see a horse brought 
forth from one of these same doorways. 

A turbaned peasant stalks across the square, stopping to 
tap his pipe agamst his pointed opanka before he fills it 

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from that capacious belt wherein his entire stock is carried. 
The woman following respectfully behind him is sheathed 
in a long brown cape with square hanging hood below her 
brown kerchief. Many men wear turbans, some dark red, 
some Persian in coloring. Are they Bosnians from the 
mountains, or is this a relic of the early Illyrian occupa- 
tion of Dalmatia, about the time of Christ? What is that 
woman carrying as she moves swiftly across the square? 
Can it be a calf? It is — and not a small one, either — for 
its legs hang to the ground. She stops to rest a moment 
against the fountain's railing but her burden remains quiet in 
her strong embrace. 

A nattily dressed young man has been standing at the 
door of the Coiut House for an hour. His new red cap, 

— jauntily awry on his curly locks, — his embroidered 
trousers, silk-fringed jacket, red sash and silver-buttoned 
vest and immaculate, coUarless white shirt betoken a holi- 
day attire. He swings a clumsy umbrella nonchalantly, — 
in an endeavor to show his indifference; but furtively looks 
at his watch. Is it some ^^not impossible She" who is late, 

— or is it merely a business engagement ? The air is cool, 
with a north wind, and men don their overcoats. Half 
an hour later my tall yoimg Adonis is still waiting. Still 
he looks down every comer. He glances at the big clock in 
the church tower as it strikes ten, and yawns unhappily; 
he saimters beyond the Franz Josef fountain and gazes 
down the broad quay; — among all that moving mass of 
people where is the expected she ? 

Suddenly there is a great conmiotion in the streets and 

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voicesi whose vehement tones seem to indicate ang^, if the 
tongue is incomprehensible. It is not necessarily a fight, 
— although the soimd of blows comes to my ears. No. It 
is only a man using the more forcible arts of persuasion to 
induce another to lead his donkey for him. ''Much ado 
about nothing!'' What excitable people these Dalmatians 
seem to be! 

Still Orlando waits and Rosalind comes not. 

Between the Court House and the sea, on this side of 
the square, stand the church and monastery of St Francis. 
The Friars have put a brave new white fofode and belfry 
upon their former creamy buildings, but fortunately have 
preserved the beautiful mottled roofs intact. T^thin that 
belfry are bells which ring in and out of season. One ex- 
pects it at the hours, and quarters, even, — but to ding in 
a constant hammering at noon^ — at 7:25 P.M., — and 
particularly at 4*45 A. M., — without apparent reason, 
seems a trifle superfluous. It is not a solemn and digni- 
fied tone, either, but a dancing dingle, out of all harmony 
with priestly functions. 

Loading and unloading at the quay adjoining the monas- 
tery are broad-prowed native boats; the sky is heavy with 
thimder clouds and the water suspiciously oily; at the end 
of the long stone breakwater, the lighthouse stands outlined 
against warm-tinted mountains; in the distance a ship imder 
full sail is just entering the Canale della Brazza. The real 
harbor is far to our left, and as we walk toward it along the 
quay, this first morning, we pass quaint Dalmatian boats, 
their masts draped with fishing nets hung in graceful fashion 

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to dryi and each awning-covered deck displaying a tempting 
caigp of oranges and lemons. So fascinating are tiiese bits 
of sea-life that it is difficult to tear ourselves away. 

Facing this harbor lies Diocletian's splendid palace, 
— erected 305 A. D., — which, in spite of its adaptation to 
modem usage, still retains its ancient charm. A stately 
palace, indeed, did this great Dalmatian build, when, 
at the age of fifty-nine, he gave up the glory of an imperial 
crown, — which he, first of all Roman emperors, had daied 
to VTear, — and returned to the obscurity of a private dti- 
aen in the land where he was bom a slave. "Obscurity,'* 
perhaps, but magnificent obscurity; for this royal villa on 
the sea-shore covers nine and a half acres, and was so solidly 
constructed that even now, — after the vicissitudes of six- 
teen centuries, — so much of it remains that we can easily 
imagine yAiBt it must have been in all its pristine ^ory. 
" Such stupendous workmanship is only for the masters of the 
world, Egyptian Pharaohs, Roman Caesars: it has never been 
possible in anystate of society since that of the Roman Empire 
in the fourth century and it can never be possible again.'' 

Within its walls a dty has been cradled; with streets, 
temples, campanile, market-places, forums, and himdreds of 
homes. To be sure, the town has now outgrown these swad- 
dling clothes; but its most interesting quarter lies still inside 
the okl palace. 

We follow the busy crowd under its dark archways and 
through its corridors, converted into streets, imtfl we come 
to a tiny piazza encumbered with a rough shed; story on 
story of scaffolding reaches into the sky. 

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"But I thought we were going to the cathedral," remarks 
Madame G)ntent. 

"The fofode of the cathedral," answers the Leader, "is 
behind the shed and this scaffolding encloses the campanile." 

It has been in process of restoration for over twenty 
years, the custode informs us. A costly, as well as tedious, 
undertaking; may it prove successful when finished! 

No, we cannot enter here, — we must go back throu^ 
the rotimda. This was formerly the vestibule of the palace 
and covered by a dome; now it is in crumbling ruins. 
Through narrow lanes and up a flight of temporary steps 
we reach a side door and enter what is popularly known as 
the mausoleum of Diocletian, — although antiquarians 
call it the Temple of Jupiter, — now consecrated to the 
Virgin and St. Doimo. Circular in form, its interior instant- 
ly recalls the Pantheon at Rome, although it lacks the cen- 
tral opening in the dome; it is much smaller, too, being 
only thirty-five feet, three inches in diameter within the 
colimms. At one point in the gallery a word spoken low in 
an opposite niche can be plainly heard. Was this peculi- 
arity utilized for oracular responses? The pulpit is rich 
in vari-colored marbles and columns, with capitab of mar- 
vellous interlacing and undercutting. " In point of technical 
execution and ingenuity of design, I know of nothing in 
Romanesque art to surpass them." (T. G. Jackson.) 
Guvina is accredited with this work by late authorities. 

The carving at the back of the choir stalls is curiously 
like the mushrabiek work of Cairo; but the delicacy of the 
execution of the whole and the resemblance to the style of 

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the great doors show that they were probably by the same 
hand. They are said to have been made for S. Stefano 
de Pinis, which was afterwards destroyed. The ends seem 
to date from some three centimes later; while a heavy 
cornice, which adds nothing to their effectiveness, was prob- 
ably added when the present choir was built and the stalls 
brought over, from near the pulpit, where they originally 
stood. 

Later on, — at the Baptistery, where they have lain 
for twenty years, — we saw the great doors of the cathedral; 
^'among the earliest as well as the finest specimens of mediae 
val woodwork in existence." Fourteen panels, divided by 
scrolls and knot-work, represent scenes in the life of Christ. 
They were executed in 12 14 by one Messer Andrea Guvina, 
— a Slav, if one may judge by his name, — who settled in 
Spalato, and, absorbing the art of his adopted country, 
became a painter as well as a famous carver in wood. Here, 
at the Baptistery, we see again the curious stone-arched roof 
ccmstructi<Hi which the architects at Sebenico used with 
such extraordinary effect. 

The entrance to the Baptistery is through a monumental 
doorway formed of three stones, the fuU thickness of the 
walls, but covered with exquisite carving. It is amasdng 
to think that this delicate ornamentation has remained 
intact throu^ sixteen hundred years of siege, sunshine, and 
storm. Except for the font, the interior of this small rec- 
tangular temple is exactly as it was when Diocletian first 
sacrificed upon its altar, — dedicating it to Esculapius. 
The coflfered ceiling is superb, leaving nothing to be desired. 

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The font, which takes the place of the ancient ahar, is in 
the form of a Greek cross, and was constructed in 1527-1533 
by the archbishop Andrea Comelio from panels probably 
brought from the cathedral. It consists of fourteen slabs 
^'of Greek marble with blue veins. Six of the external slabs 
have early mediaeval carvings, one has Roman ornament; a 
Roman inscription is on the back of another, the rest are 
smooth back and front, and several have been sawn. They 
are nearly the same height and thickness, but vary in lei^th, 
and were part of some chancel enclosure, altar, or sarcopha- 
gus. The carvings are probably of the eleventh century, 
and are extremely curious. It is possible that they may be 
works of Mag. Otto, though the character of the patterns 
points rather to the Comadnes.'' (F. H. Jackson.) The 
fine sarcophagi formerly here have been removed to the 
museum, where they are crowded in with a jumble of an- 
tiquities without pretence of installation. 

Through a dim labjnrinth of archways, — opening at 
intervals into small irregular piazzas, — we saunter, amus- 
ing ourselves by gazing into the tiny shops where cheese and 
pickles, silver filigree and embroideries, bread, meat, and gay 
calicoes are displayed. We watch the swarthy Morlacchi 
with their curious bags of merchandise slung over their 
shoulders, their snowy kerchiefs and full sleeves making 
bri^t spots in the dark shadows of the street. 

Following the gay procession we come to the Piazza 
dei Signori, where every angle discloses a new and delight- 
ful picture — a mediaeval clock tower, a balconied palace, 
a stately fofode; but perhaps most interesting of them all 

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is the former loggia, a relic of the fourteenth century, restored 
in 1891 and now used as the Town Hall. In this piazza, 
too, is an excellent bookstore, where maps and plans and 
photographs, besides books and any quantity of useful infor- 
mation, may always be obtained. 

From the quay a corniced tower rises high above the 
surrounding roofs and, searching, we found it in the market- 
place. A new tower, this, — for the Venetians erected it 
About 1450, in a line of fortifications just beyond the walls 
of Diocletian's Palace. Now a market-place is always a 
fascinating spot, — fuU of local color and kaleidoscopic 
effects. Aside from the people the booths themselves are 
a study and often their contents appeal to a more carnal 
sense; for this is a fruit and vegetable market and great 
baskets of luscious products axe displayed under the shel- 
tering canvas. 

The oranges are too tempting to be resisted and I 
stop to buy of an enormously fat woman eating from her 
little sauce-pan what looks like a delicious lamb stew with 
rice. 

"Where do you come from?" she sociably inquires, as 
I wait for my change. A small child has suddenly appeared 
and taken the kronen to a neighboring shop. 

"From America,'* I proudly answer, but am somewhat 
taken back when she asks ^'Which one?" For usually 
there is no distinction at this distance. 

"From Chicago," I respond. "Do you know it?" 

"E — hi" she replies, with that expressive intonaticm 
with which the Latin nations adorn their language. I know 

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instantly that she has never been there, but she has heard 
of it 

"Does this country please you?" 

"Very much," I answer. 

"How long have you been here, in Spalato?" 

"Only yesterday we came, but we are to stay four 
days." 

It was now my ttim« "What are those blacki^ pods?" 

"They are carob beans and very good to eat." 

"Like this, or cooked?" 

"Like this, — try one," and she insists that the small 
child, who has by this time returned with the money, shall 
wipe the dust off from four and that I must take them for 
nothing. They are good, with a thin, sweetish layer around 
the kernel, like figs, but a bit dry imless one is very hungry. 
So attractive is the little maid that I persuade her to stand 
in shy dignity for her photograph. 

"Marinovic K — ," she writes in answer to my ques- 
tion;— and the address? "Oh, TrgVoca — Spalato." 

When I went back, on another day, for a chat, making no 
pretence of buying, the woman greeted me with stately 
friendliness. "That is beautiful, your necklace," she 
remarked, after the fine weather had been discussed. "It 
is old, is it not?" 

"Yes," I answered, "from India." 

" Oh, I knew it was old," she asserted. 

"And yours?" I ventured, for she wore a curiously 
wrought gold chain with heavy pendants. 

" Mine, too, is old. It was my mother's mother's — and 

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perhaps older than that," — and her fat fingers felt of it 
lovingly. 

" We are going away to-morrow," I regretfuUy exclaimed ; 
'^I would like so much to stay longer." 

" But you will come again," she calmly prophesied, — as 
if Dalmatia were close to far America, and Spalato a station 
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CHAPTER X 
SALONA — CLISSA — SOURCE OF THE JADRO 

"\X7HY wouldn't this be a good time to see Salona?'' 
asks the Leader on a golden day in Spalato. And to 
Salona we go in a native "carriage/' — as the road into the 
ruins is said to be unsuitable for the motor; thus we have 
ample leisure to admire the elaborate harness with which 
so many horses are bedecked. Such brave display of shin- 
ing brass in rings and cut designs; such gorgeous tassels 
almost touching the ground! The distance is only four miles 
and the countryside enchanting with hawthorn hedgesi 
Stars of Bethlehem, and the white bells of the giant snow- 
drops, — growing, however, in such marshy places that 
even my enthusiasm has to be restrained. The sea is radi- 
ant beneath the stem gray moimtains and reflects the towers 
and many colored houses on the Riviera of the Sette Castelli 
in rippling shadows; on our right the aqueduct of Diocle- 
tian extends across the green fields; and far ahead looms the 
ancient pyramidal fortress of Clissa. 

At an inn, or, gosHanaf where the Virginia creeper hangs 
in charming festoons between antique columns, we turn 
sharply toward the ruins and stop at the house of Professes: 
Bulic to secure a guide. There is more to see at Salona 
than I had expected, although every ruined city has to be 
studied carefully in advance in order that one's imagination 
may be able to reconstruct it from the fragments. We 

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knew that Salona was the ancient capital of Dahnatia and 
•'one of the proudest provincial cities of the Roman world"; 
also that it was situated at the base of Mt. Kozjak at the 
mouth of the Jadro River; — but to stand on the spot and 
look up at the splendid towering mountains, then down at 
the sparkling sea, — how different the impression. How 
much more real the Romans become! On this same land- 
scape they were wont to gaze, over these blue waters came 
their loaded boats I Did the nightingale sing in the sun- 
shine for them, too? And the white terns sweep in great 
curves overhead? 

The ancient dty walls have been traced with remains 
of eighty-eight towers; but only the most ardent archaeolo- 
gist would care to follow their half-buried foundations. We 
are interested in the sixth century Christian Baptistery 
whose walls are still several feet high, circular in form and 
cobnnaded ; in^ centre is a sunken pool, lined with marble, 
in the shape of a cross and formerly used for immersion. 
Several fragments of Roman mosaics, carefuUy covered with 
earth as a protection from the sun, are swept bare for our 
benefit by a crowd of gamins, who, knowing well the course 
of tourists, keep constantly ahead of us. 

The arrangements of the baths are similar to those at 
Pompeii and plainly to be traced. Most curious of all, how- 
ever, is the Basilica of the fifth century, which was destroyed 
in 639, when the Avars burned the dty and forced the inhabi- 
tants to take refuge in the empty Palace of Diocletian. 
Recent excavations under the floor of this Basilica have dis- 
closed the fact that it was built on the site of an early Chris* 

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dan cemetery. The ground was apparently levelled at the 
height of the largest tomb and the church erected upon it. 
Stone sarcophagi, with and without lids, — sometimes sculp- 
tured, often inscribed, but always mutilated, — lie about 
in such profusion that it is difficult to follow the foundations 
of the church. The most important ones have been taken 
to the museum at Spalato, althou^ there is a long row of 
them lying end to end in what is known as the Necropolis 
Suburbana outside the walls. We spent an inspiring after- 
noon roaming over this historic ground and brou^t away a 
sprig of the rosemary, growing in abundance between the 
stones. 

One sparkling morning, when the air is mild, we motor 
by the Salona road up the slopes of Mt. Kozjak in long, 
climbing loops, the Roman Via Gabiniana, through olive 
orchards, figs and pomegranates, succeeded by flowering 
raspberries and sweet-brier, until the rocky soil finally 
refuses to produce anything but junipers or an occasional 
pine. Below us, as we mount, the panorama grows more 
extensive; Salona and the Jadro, Spalato and the sea with 
the far distant islands; how magnificent a spectacle! 

The strange, bare peak of Mt. Mosor confronts us 
across a deep abyss; so twisted, so dishevelled by volcanic 
action are its sides that the rock strata lies in great swirls 
like gigantic oyster shells! Nearer us on an isolated rock 
is perched the ruined fortress of Clissa which formerly com- 
manded the pass between Sinj and Spalato. The road has 
been carried with great skill to within a short distance of 
its vine-draped walls, and we walk up the path to enjoy the 

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splendid prospect. Below us is the small village of Clissa, 
with its curious roofs of overlapping stones; the white 
campanile of its church stands as a beacon for the workers 
on the long slopes of the mountain. It is a wonderfully 
inteiiesting landscape, rich in historical associations; for 
Clissa (in Slavic EJis) has been the shuttlecock between 
Slavs and Latins, Bosnians and Venetians, Turks, Austrians, 
and Frenchmen, each in turn, for fifteen hundred years. 
Beyond the green valley southward lies Spalato, by the shin- 
ing sea, with Piccola Venezia reflected in the still water of 
the Salonian Gulf; farther away the gently rolling island 
of Solta and Brazza's towering peaks; then Bua, seeming, 
from this high level, almost to touch Spalato. 

^^In that wooded hollow the Jadro rises, according to the 
map,'' points out the Leader. " Do you see any road leading 
that way?" 

"Yes, there by the mill; can't you see it?" And we 
trace it to the Clissa highway. 

Without discussion, on our homeward way, we tiun aside 
at the "Gostiona Kate Grubic" and follow the narrow ex- 
cuse for a road leading to the source of the Jadro. Before we 
have gone far along it, however, a ford deepened by the re- 
cent rains compels us to abandon the car and cross the stream 
on stepping-stones. Beyond, the road is low and wet ; but we 
keep close to the willows thickly planted on the river banks 
and come at last to the mill of Vidovic. Such a beautiful 
spotl — thickly overgrown with vines and many trees. Wis- 
taria and Judas trees are in blossom; above the stone walls 
hawthorn blooms; the combination of violet, rose color, 

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and white, is exquisite* But the Leader never hesitates, — 
this, evidently, is not the '^source,'' and he marches resolutely 
onward. We resist the wild anemones growing in profusion 
along the way and follow half-reluctantly, expecting at every 
bend to see the '^somxe"; but instead of becoming smaller, 
more brook-like, the Jadro seems to increase in size, the 
current is swift, and occasionally the river broadens to a tiny 
lake. At last a precipice rises before us, and at its foot 
pours forth from a reverberating cave a tumultuous, tossing 
flood I Behold the source! The noise is deafening. Huge 
birds sweep down in circling fli^t from the bare crags* The 
rocky banks are gay with flowering shrubs, genista, wild 
daisies, and calendula. Two tiny mills bend beneath the 
weight of ivy nourished by the continual mist. It is our 
first sight of these strange subterranean streams which are 
bom, full-flooded, from the mountain-side, to disappear 
again at times beneath a wall of rock. The Jadro has a 
short career intact; for its waters are partially diverted into 
the aqueduct of Diocletian, six miles long, which again, 
smce 1879, supplies the city of Spalato. 

The rettun walk through the country is delightful. On 
a sunny slope a shepherdess sings ^^ Dolce Maria" as she 
knits, her rich, sweet voice rising and falling in melodious 
cadence. The child by her side forgets to munch his dry 
bread as he listens, and we, too, pause to hear. 

On reaching the ford again we discover that the stream 
has risen and all the stepping-stcmes are imder water. The 
natives calmly take off their shoes and stockings and wade 
over; but the cramping and inconvenient habits of civiliza- 

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tion prove too strong for us. What can we do? The 
Leader scoffs at wet shoes, — not so Hex Ladyshq). ^'My 
only pair! I'm sure I should take cold. No, there must 
be some other way." Thereupon, as if in answer to her 
cry, aj^ars an empty wagon and by gestures we induce the 
driver to lay the adjustable sides of his cart on stcHies across 
the flood. With smiling complaisance he accomplishes 
this so successfully that we cross dry shod and happy. 

The further south we travel in Dalmatia, the less Italian 
influence is visible. Outside of the cities the language is 
never understood and even in Spalato the notices in our 
rooms at the hotel are in Slavic, as well as German and 
Italian. The proper names are very confusing. It is hard 
enou^ to remember one name for each new place, but when 
f<»rced to memorize two the brain rebels; also, there seem 
to be so many ways of spelling the same word that one's 
principles of orthography become sadly lax. No two maps 
agree, until finally we decide to adopt the phonetic method 
and be content. 

One of the joys of travelling by motor is that there are 
no iron rules in the matter of time, no railway acconunoda- 
tions or hotel rooms engaged in advance; so when Her 
Ladyship begs for one day more in Spalato we stay on. 

"Why another day?" asks the Leader, curiously, "What 
do you wish to see?" 

"Nothing at all," she makes answer, "I want a free day 
to wander about in, with nothing especial that I must do." 

It is a still sunny day and the feeling of freedom is 
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if we were at home, and the Leader reads aloud to us, re- 
viewing what we have seen. 

"I wonder where that street leads!" I say, casually, 
pointing to the comer between the Court House and the 
monastery, "The country people so often disappear in that 
direction/' 

"Why not go and see?" urges the Leader, always 
charmed with new suggestions. 

So in the late afternoon we turn the familiar comer and 
face a stone-paved street, which soon resolves itself into 
shallow steps. This is lined with low houses, and the at- 
mosphere b heavy with odors by no means agreeable; for 
we are just above the famous Sulphur Springs which here 
flow into the sea. This water, carried into certain elab- 
orately appointed baths, is one of the luxuries of the city. 

Hordes of children are at work or play before their 
homes, and in that sociable fashion peculiar to Italy the 
labor of the house is transacted in the open air. Gradually 
the houses disappear and woods of maritime pine and juni- 
per, with newly laid out avenues upon the hillside, take 
their place; a lofty terrace with convenient benches beguiles 
us, and we are well rewarded for our steep climb. Below 
us lies the lovely bay of Spalato, glowing in the sun's last 
rays; the walls of Diocletian's Palace can easily be traced; 
and beyond it and the green valley rises Clissa on its solitary 
peak, with Mt Mosor beside it; — for we are on the fair 
slopes of Mt. Marjan, in the midst of vines and fig-trees, 
with countless wild flowers nodding in the grass beside us, 
and the glory of an Oriental sunset transforming the scene. 



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CHAPTER XI 
SPALATO TO METKOVIC 

npHIS last morning in Spalato, roused by the monastery 
bell at five o'clock, I lean from my window. A 
crescent moon hangs in the western sky, pale against the 
coming Ught. Already the cargo boats are stirring at the 
quay. A belated blue one, with white sail, comes dashing 
over the water before the fresh breeze. A fishing-smack 
pushes oflf, — under the touch of the sun her patched and 
discolored lateen sail is changed to a sheet of silver, as the 
boat glides swiftly toward the island of Solta. A trim white 
yacht enters the port. The sea is the richest sapphire, the 
mountains a rosy tan, at their feet nestle white villages, — 
Zmovnica and Mravince, and the belfrys of St. Peter and 
St. Luke. 

The cargo boats are tugging at their ropes, — they beg 
the men to hasten with the unloading, — this breeze after 
so many days of calm must not be wasted. We, too, are 
eager to be on our way. 

The Leader looks upon the motor merely as a means 
to an end; as a method of transportation, comfortable and 
rapid enough, making possible many excursions only acces- 
sible to the walker, bicyclist, or caravaner. Not so, we 
two. We love the motor for itself alone. We climb into 
its capacious tonneau; sink into its luxurious springy seat, 
just the right height, with a back which touches just the 

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rig^ places; tuck the fleece-lined leather robes about us 
ti^^tly, and as the car moves gently off , — gradually increas- 
ing its speed until it settles down to the steady hum which 
tells of perfectly adjusted machinery, — we look at each 
other in sheer sensuous joy of the motion, and up to the very 
last day of our journey we exclaim, ''Is n't it blissful I Is 
there anything to equal it ?" Tired heads clear in this rush 
of pure air, knitted brows imconsciously relax in the splen- 
did ozone. No one ever feels the obligation of talking, — 
there is too much to observe in the near as well as the dis- 
tant landscape. 

**Kako se zave ova selo? (What is the name of that 
village?)*' I murmur, as we roll along the hi^way, leaving 
Spalato behind us, boimd for Ragusa via Metkovic. 

''What are you talking about?" asks my companion. 

''I am trying it in different intonations to see which 
sounds the best. I wish I might hear some one say it just 
once, — it would be such a help. That is where the phono- 
graph— " 

"It must be a holiday to-day," interrupts Her Ladyship. 
"Do see all the peasants coming to town. What beautiful 
costumes!" 

Donkeys amble before them, laden with all manner of 
products in wide baskets or saddle-bags, — for five kilo- 
meters we are forced to run very carefully, often stopping, to 
avoid frightening them. We catch a last glimpse of 
Clissa above the green valley, surrounded by misty moirn- 
tains, and on our right the blue sea boimded by Brazza's 
rocky heights. 

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The attention of the Leader, however, is taken up with 
the exciting episodes of the road; for women aie leaping 
from their donkeys and dragging them to the safe harbor of 
the ditches. The men, and especially the boys, sit more 
calmly on their small beasts and look in delisted wonder 
at our comparatively swift flight. 

Crossing the Stobrec River we look back at a pictur- 
esque huddle of houses on a rock jutting into a bay. It is 
StobieS itself. 

Over a small ridge, then down a straight, smooth coast 
road, well marked with kilometer posts and lined with vines^ 
olives, and figs, alternating with yoimg pines, we speed. 
Here the grapes are actually in leaf and planted in rows to 
the very edge of the gravelly beach; for these southern 
slopes of Mt Mosor are finely cultivated, and for neariy 
six hundred years, from 1235 to 1807, formed the tiny Repub- 
lic of Poljica until seized in the octopus-like grasp of 
France. 

The road runs close to the sea, bending arouiKl its sharp 
pdnts and curving through tiny hamlets. Many cherry 
and almond trees spring from the rocky soil, for here the 
cherry, known as fnarasca, grows void, from which is made 
the famous maraschino wine. In one deep cove, whose 
vineyards reach to the top of the cli£f, a tiny chapel dedi- 
cated to '^Sv. Stipan'' stands on a projecting rock, while 
near by a solitary villa flies the national flag. 

Around another point, and the rose hedges are i»nk with 
new leaves. We notice that with every mUe southward the 
vegetation is more advanced. At last before us lies the 

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lovely bay of Almissa, with its chaxming little town, a mere 
strip at the water's edge below the cone-like Mt. Dinara. 

From the precipitous Mt. Borak the ruined castle of 
Mirabella looks down, — so long the headquarters of a pirate 
band. '^ Unassailable by land on account of the barrier of 
mountains at their back, and protected by the intricacy of 
the channel from attack by sea, the Almissan corsairs drove 
a splendid trade and robbed every passer-by, even pilgrims 
on their way to the Holy Land." 

Here we cross the Cetina River, and leaving the sea turn 
into a narrow gorge with tremendous cli£fs on either side. 
The rains have swollen the river and formed cascades down 
the bare precipices. At each turn we expect to find the road 
submerged, so near the water's edge is it. Sheer crags rise 
beside us, dotted with emerald spurge (euphorbia bigland- 
ulosa); but across the stream the slopes are gay with pale 
green poplars. Flocks of swallows circle above us. Closer 
and closer the crags approach, narrower and narrower 
grows the canyon until the road and the river fill it com- 
pletely; but this proves to be the entrance to a sunny, open 
valley, where pines and olives vie with the willows, poplars, 
and elms in the green garb of Spring. 

Close to the road, in a grove of forest trees, nestle the 
picturesque mills of Vissech (sometimes known as the Rad- 
man milk). Here is evidently a birds' Paradise, for they 
rise in bewitching variety as we fly by. 

Our route now leaves the Cetina and turns toward snow- 
capped mountains, ascending in eight loops with very sharp 
turns but over an excellent road, affording us delightful 

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g^pses of the foaming gieen river far below. Another 
series of ascending loops with changing shadows on the 
mountain sides brings us to the settlement of Kuci&. Down 
again to the Cetina, with snowy Mt. Brela (51 1/ feet) 
rising before us; — "This is what / call a smiling valley," 
asserts Her Ladyship, not always agreeing with the guide- 
book's adjectives. 

No sooner have we passed with due precaution, but suc- 
cessfully, a crowded diligence, than we encounter three 
donkeys convoyed by one man. In vain he tugs, in vain 
he beats; every one of those twelve small fieet is firmly 
planted; not one will budge from the centre of the road- 
way. Once more our gallant chauffeur must to the rescue, 
while the Leader indulges in pat, though dignified, remarks 
about the cussedness of donkeys in general, and Dalmatian 
donkeys in particular. 

As we begin to rise on another zig-zag course, we hear 
a soimd like distant thimder, and behold a torrent leaping 
over the shelving rock straight down one hundred feet into 
the basin below. It is the Falls of the Cetina, or "Velika 
Gubavica," as the guide-posts inform us. 

Near the top of our last climb, beneath a village called 
"Banja," a heavily loaded team blocks the way. The 
driver gesticulates anxiously and pours forth a torrent of 
Slavic syllables. "The road is so narrow he cannot turn 
out; — let the signori have patience, soon a cross-road will 
be reached; — his horses cannot increase their speed, 
exhausted by the long pull up the mountains;— he will do 
the very best he can"; — and so, with much cracking of the 

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whip and encouraging calls, he leads the way at a snail's 
pace, while we follow up the steep grade. 

Duare is a forlorn, treeless town in the stoniest of stony 
regions. Its ancient castle, twice destroyed by the Venetians, 
and as many times rebuilt by the Turks, is now a ruin. Tur- 
baned men look lazily at us as we pass. Long processions 
of ponies, laden with rocks, accompany us for some distance. 

But we are nearly at the end of our cross-country road 
from Almissa, up the Cetina to just above Duare. At this 
point, two hundred and seven kilometers from Zara, ac- 
cording to the guide-posts, we enter the national highway 
from Zara to Ragusa over the Turia Pass, known as the 
^'Strada Maestra." Soon we make the turn and facing Mt. 
Brcla go southwest through the country of the Karst. This 
highway is more worn than our pleasant river road, and 
fertile hollows in the midst of tumbled boulders are smaU 
compensation for the wild scenery of the Cetina gorge. But 
the chauffeur, enchanted to see five hundred feet of dear 
running ahead of him, sits firmly in his seat, grasps the 
wheel tightly, and we fly through the monotonous landscape 
at such a speed that, when we do pass a small collection of 
huts, the faded sign-post is one blur. 

"Did you see the name of that village?" the Leader 
calls back satirically. 

"We did fkrf,'' shrieks the chorus. 

"I think it was Grabovac," and orders are given to slow 
down for the villages. 

As we ascend once more, the Dinarian Alps, — white 
with fresh snow, — appear beside us. At 2^agvo2d we 

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cross a route which leads to Imotski and over the border 
into the Herzegovina, but we keep to the right over a rolling 
country along steep inclines and hills covered with a stunted 
oak. 

Probably this was part of the old Roman highway; 
but on the top of the Turia Pass (2643 ^^^) ^ ^^ inscription 
sajring that ''under the Emperor Napoleon the Great and 
under the direction of the viceroy of Italy Eugene, at the 
time when Marshal Beaumont was commander-in-chief 
in Dalmatia, this route was opened between 1806 and 18091 
under the technical management of General Blancard» 
with the aid of the engineers Grljic and Zavorio, and that 
from the Croatian frontier to that of Albania it is two hundred 
and fifty geographic miles long.'' It is interesting to note 
that the Great Napoleon employed native engineers; but 
we would have known this even if it had not been so stated, 
so heavy is that one last grade over the summit. What 
must it have been before the recent improvement? A new 
dressing, some three inches thick, of coarse broken stone 
adds to our difficulties. 

But if the ascent seems hi^ from the northern side, 
what are our sensations as we view the descent on the other 
slc^? ''Slope'' is assuredly not the wordi From the 
top we slide down with screaming brake in eleven cork- 
screw loops! The panorama is extensive and inspiring, but 
after one ^ance I pay little attention to it; the automobile 
itself demands all my admiration, — with what surety we 
make the short turns, — how it obeys the strong clutch of 
the brakesi Will the tremendous friction set it afire as it 

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has the machine of a friend? But no! It sails along in 
safety to the end of the descent. It is a comfort to find 
ourselves once more on comparatively level ground. To be 
sure we run up inclines only to coast down on the other 
side over and over again, as there is not the first attempt 
at grading. But the road is hard, if the pebbles aie many, 
and we are making gpod time when — ! 

"What tire is it?" calmly asks Her Ladyship; and we 
dismount to look at the break. 

"What a fine place for a picnic!" comments the Enthu- 
siast. "Here in a flowery field under oaks and feathery 
beeches. I know it is early for luncheon, but it is three 
hours since we started and I am hungry." 

So the sandwiches are impacked and a boulder selected 
for a table, behind the tangle of hawthorn. We are safe- 
ly hidden, when a group of charmingly gowned girls gathers 
about the automobile. 

"I reaUy ought to try to kodak them," I mumble be- 
tween bites. 

"Oh, they 'U be there when we have finished," declares 
Her Ladyship, loath to be disturbed; but they are not, for 
some sudden call starts the whole flock, and they disappear 
toward the village, while I look helplessly on. I do not 
say "I told you so," but I am sure I think it; and through- 
out the entire length, — breadth it has none, — of Dal- 
matia never again do I meet so characteristic, so brilliant, 
so eminently kodakable a company! 

However when, the tire being nearly ready, we climb 
into the machine again, some few stragglers happen alcHig 

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and I rather tentatively try my Slavic sentence: ^^Kako se 
zcve ova sdof (What is the name of this village?)" With 
a brilliant smile, which shows all his white teeth, one of 
them breaks into a flood of language; delightfuli instructive 
discourse, I'll be bound, but v^asted on us all. In vain I 
look intelligent, in vain the Leader tries to get his attention, 

— with expressive gestiues of appreciation he turns to me 
and eloquently, — I am sure it is eloquently, — tells his tale. 
Gently I lead him back, nodding my head in agreement, 

— hxxt'' Ova sdo? iToto^eswe? (This village? What is 
it called?)" 

^^Rotuji ddaCf** he answers, and we search for it on the 
map. The Leader, with smaU faith, mentions two villages, 
one on either side of us, which the man motions are both 
far away, — on both ends of the horizon, in fact. 

^'Da Spalato. — u Ragusa^^^ I reply, thinking that a 
safe answer to one of his questions. That much I can 
manage and *^Da America^^^ a word which always brings a 
light to the eyes wherever it is mentioned; for there is siue 
to be some member of the family, some friend or neighbor 
who has been, or is going to, that £1 Dorado. 

Leaving the old tire by the roadside, to the joy of the 
small boy who evidently expects to make his fortune with it, 
we start for a fine blue-pointed peak at the end of the valley. 
Past shrines and guide-posts ; by hills of jimiper and live oak, 
with an imdergrowth of bayberry; beneath the ruins of its 
andent castle where ivy covers the donjonkeep, we finally 
enter Vrgprac Tiny houses cling to the hillside like swal- 
lows' nests, and the minute square is filled with peasants 

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and booths, with merchandise and sheep; evidently it is 
an important market-day. 

'*I wish I had a pair of those beautiful opankaP* I cry 
as we creep slowly through a wide street lined with booths 
displaying the sandal in all stages of its development frcmi 
the plain leather strips cut from the hide to the elaborately 
finished product. 

^^Do you really want them?" questions the Leader. 
"For we can stop as well as not." 

"I really do/' and as soon as the car stops, accompanied 
by the Gentle Lady and by a mob of interested onlookers, 
I begin my shopping expedition. In walking down the 
narrow street we inspect carefully all stocks of merchandise, 
frequently being invited, nay begged, by eager venders to 
purchase. The crowd of country folk about our heeb 
increases, the ones at the rear trying to get nearer, pushing 
those in front almost upon us in their desire to see; but 
they are never intentionally rude. 

"This looks like a good place," I miumur; and stop 
before a booth whose owner has a dignity which pleases me. 

"Qfiafi<(?," I hazard in Italian, pointing to a pair of 
opanka richly wrought with cord, but the man shakes his 
head. ''KoUko? (How much?)" I venture. 

Ahl the strange lady speaks his tongue. With a n^id 
gesture of dismissal to the ciujous crowd, he motions us 
to enter his tiny shop, sweeps two stools from a dark comer, 
polishes them swiftly with a cloth, and bows deejdy 
before us, — talking all the time with so deferential an air, 
such expressive gestures that we almost imderstand what he 

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says. Now if the worthy ladies will sit down in his humble 
shop and indicate their pleasure. I point to the opatika 
which I prefer, then to my feet. Instantly he is on his 
knees and measuring, — such a pair of opanka I shall have 
as no one else in all Vrgorac can supply; and with surpris- 
ing agility he mounts to a shelf near the ceiling, returning 
with a pair of sandals which he displays with a sureness d 
appreciation which brings its own reward. They aie in 
very truth most beautifully made. He stoops to compare 
them with my nKxlem shoe and I agree with his disdain. 
For picturesqueness, for charm of color, for artistic design, 
there is no comparison! Poised upon his delicate finger, 
the opanka swing in tempting nearness. 

The keen eyes of the Slav never leave my face, and he 
enjoys hugely my delist, — but what will the visitor be 
willing to pay? He finally makes up his mind to ask me 
ten kronen (about $2.50). This seems to me reasonable 
enough; but remembering the Oriental custom, I look 
shocked at the price, and with my fingers indicate eight 
kronen, — not tentatively, but with decision, — as I can 
see down the street the Leader is growing imeasy at our 
absence. 

''Very well,'' he assents, pleased with his bargain, and 
throwing the connecting string of the sandals over my arm 
we sally forth followed by the good wishes and pleasant 
smiles of the shoe merchant. 

The country folk are immensely pleased at this tribute 
to their good taste, and come running from all sides toward 
the motor to nod their heads, show their own opanka^ and 

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congratiilate me upon my worthy purchase. I show it 
proudly to each one who can reach me, and they pour forth 
a chorus of farewells as we move slowly off toward Met- 
kovic. 

Below, as we mount, the valley is mostly under water; on 
the other side rise the snow-capped mountains of the Herze- 
govina. Here we meet a dignified old seignior, — a Bosnian 
by his looks, — on a short and stubby pony, accompanied 
by a lad on foot. At sight of us the boy turns the pony's 
head quickly away and attempts to drag him out of the road 
up the steep hillside. With all his might the stubby beast 
resists, planting firmly his short fore-legs. The rider scorns 
to interfere, — but simply keeps his seat, duckings, 
urgings, threats, and even blows avail naught; in exhaustion 
the lad desists, — when the stubborn pony turns and gives 
us one good long look, then scrambles out of our way without 
amiurmur! 

We are now travelling on the ridge, which here separates 
Dalmatia and the Herzegovina, and the prospects on both 
sides are full of interest. Where the road to Ljubuski 
branches to the left, we catch a glimpse of Dusina on the 
edge of one of the winter lakes. 

At a place where the declivity is bare and sheer, we stop 
carefully on the outside to permit a carriage to pass; but all 
caution is vain at the next encounter, which is with an 
animal carrying a big load of fire-wood on his back. With 
one gasp he breaks away from his master's grasp and scam- 
pers down a winding path, leaving his burden scattered 
in fragments along the way. Even this poor peasant does 

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not seem to blame us, but rather the foolishness of his 
ignorant beast. 

Another winter lake appears below, with walnut-trees 
upon the edge. '^Otric-Struge/' says the guide-post, then 
two kilometers more to a comparatively level stretch. White 
terns circle about us and the meadow larks sing. 

'^Borovod-Novasela,'' and we leave the heights and go 
swiftly down to the edge of the Narenta delta, where pond 
lilies are a pleasant surprise. As we cross a dyke, a man 
guiding a native boat called a ^^trupina^^ makes a fine sil- 
houette between branches of poplars and fig-trees bordering 
the hi^way. These peculiar boats, which the Narentines 
use in paddling among the reeds and rushes, are so li^t that 
they can be carried on the shoulder, yet so strong that they 
are used for the transportation of hay, rushes, and crops of 
all kinds. For shooting, also, they are in demand, as from 
January to March there is an abundance of game along 
the Narenta, — moor-hen, marsh wood-cock, the vrild duck 
and goose in abundance. Eagles, also, are found there, and 
white-headed vultures, pelicans, wild swan, herons, and sea- 
gulls. A very Paradise for the hunter! Salmon trout, 
up to twenty kilograms, are caught in this stream; and fat 
eels of the Narenta, taken from October to January, are 
well known, as are also the crabs. The catching of leeches 
is another favorite industry; but of aU this we see nothing. 
Only the graceful sprays of pomegranates, red with their 
new growth, dogwoods in glorious flower, and mulberries 
shading the river road, call for our enthusiastic admiration. 

Across the lake the houses of Metkovic melt into the 

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hillside. It is a fascinating ride of five kilometers before 
we come to the watch-tower of Norino, and, turning sharply 
to the kfti follow the new dyked road on the north bank <^ 
the Narenta; passing the docks where steamers trom Trieste 
are tmloading, and the railroad station, we cross the river 
and draw up before the Hotel Austria, Metkovic. 



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METKOVIC TO RAGUSA 

A LTHOUGH Metkovic was fOTmerly on the frontier 
between Venetian Dalmatia and the Turkish Herzego- 
vina, the dty itself has absolutely nothing in the way of 
antiquity, or even of picturesqueness, to offer to the tourist; 
— but what she has she presents in good will and abun- 
dance. A smoking hot, palatable meal is not to be dis- 
dained after six hours of touring. In fact, this small hotel 
was the only possible spot where we could have procured 
such a thing the whole distance between Spalato and Ra* 
gusa. Imagine, therefore, the disapproval of the Leader 
when, delaying our luncheon, I rushed down the street in 
pursuit ol a couple of country women dressed in lamb's- 
wool trousers and long coats, sleeveless jackets of sheepskin, 
the wool side in and the outside embroidered in bri^t 
cokns, and, of course, the universal white kerchief and flat 
bag stuffed with purchases. 

A pasaer-by in the raggedest outfit I ever saw looked 
curiously at me, and then at them, wondering what I could 
find extraordinary in two such common-place creatures, 
but when I paused to ''take'' a young befezzed and brilliant 
Bosnian, stef^ing jauntfly down the street, in what we have 
always been taught to call a Turkish costume; — yes, that 
was understandable, and he looked a bit enviously at the 
man's gorgeous dothes and general air of prosperity. 

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Across the way from the hotel is a small park, where two 
magnificent trees guard the entrance. On one side of it 
flows the Narenta River. In Roman times this stream, 
called then the Naro, bore an important part; for Narona, 
one of the three capitals of Daknatia, was situated near its 
mouth. It was the barrier between the two republics of 
Venice and Ragusa in the Middle Ages, and forms now a 
convenient highway for the transportation of goods in and 
out of Bosnia. 

For nearly fifteen kilometers after leaving Metkovic, the 
rough road follows the contours of the hillsides above the 
flooded delta of the Narenta, crossing narrow inlets on 
dykes. Wherever the water ends, the fresh, green growth 
begins; yoimg walnut-trees are bursting into red-bronze 
leaf; many vineyards are under water; and the highway 
from lack of use is covered with a weak, thin grass. On 
the stone walls, near the village of Vidouje, large round nets 
are drying. 

Here^we begin the ascent over the mountains into the 
Herzegovina. No wonder the road was grass-grown below, 
nor that we meet only pack animals and no vehicles of any 
kind; for although we make two long windings we reach the 
top of the pass in two kilometers, the last grade being fifteen 
per cent I Such a desolate conglomeration of water-worn 
rock , such a tmnbled gray sea, suddenly petrified ! A billowy 
field of mountain peaks bounds the eastern horizon, and on 
the first loop downward we get a superb view over the 
Adriatic, starred with islands. 

The road continues steep and stony, with an economy 

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of space at the turns not at all approved by the automobile. 
As we descend, near the three hundred and fifteenth kflo- 
meter post, we meet a file of Herzegovinians in well-worn, 
picturesque costumes, toiling up the mountain from the 
sea, under the weight of many burlap bags. ^^From Neum, 
I suppose," calls back the Leader. ''Soon we go out of 
the Herzegovina and enter Daknatia again. For this is the 
peninsula of Klek, with about two-thirds of a mile of coast 
and the tiny port of Neum, which Ragusa, in 1718, ceded to 
Turkey so that the Venetian territory might not touch her 
borders." 

Beautiful black and white terns fly before us, an occa- 
sional flock of sheep is seen guarded by trousered young 
shepherdesses, — after all, it is a sensible costiune for their 
roug^, out-of-door life. Below us, suddenly, a blue estuary 
appears in the landscape ; a mountain point ; a tiny town. 

"What is it?" we ask in chorus of the map-holder. 

''It is the Canale di Stagno piccolo." Oh, the musical 
Italian syllables! 

"And the village is Hodilje, on the peninsula of Sab- 
bioncello?" The fishermen's boats look like flies on the 
water. We pass under a ruined watch-tower on the hilltop. 

"Probably that marks the frontier, a relic of Turkish 
domination; now we are out of the Herzegovina and in 
Dalmatia again," remarks the Leader. 

But the landscape does not change, nor the appearance of 
the yeofie. Two women pass us, bent double under im- 
mense bundles of firewood; the two men accompanying 
tbem carry between them — one umbrellal This attitude, 

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of course, is a survival of the ancient barbaric customs, when 
the man was the warrior, the himter, the food provider; and 
the wraian did the rest. It is said that the man loses the 
respect of his kind if he condescends to assist his wife; and 
that the wife would be the first one to object, with horror, 
at his taking a share in so-called woman's work. 

A beautiful, great bird, as big as a crow, bright blue, with 
golden brown and black striped wings, rises from the ground 
and sails before us. ^^Oh, I do wish I knew what it was!'' 
But this time our Leader fails us, — of ornithology he pie- 
tends no knowledge. 

We pass a pine plantation, struggling for existence in 
this rocky waste, and stop to tie on more firmly our extra 
cans of gasoline. 

"This must be the very top!" we cry, as we look down 
a sheer thousand feet to the Canale di Stagno piccolo, with 
an imdulating range of mountains on islands beyond. The 
road takes a deep fall down, another high incline, then a 
loop, and slides down into a land of plenty. We meet men 
in a new costiune of short, blue baggy trousers, brown 
jacket embrcHdered with red, a yellow sash, and the inevi- 
table crimson cap of Dalmatia. Another deft in the hill- 
side and another glimpse of a sea of islands. 

At the three himdred and forty-second kilometer post, 
Slano is plainly perceived below, amid flourishing vines, 
fig-trees, and olives. We do not enter the villagei but keep 
en our southern course over hillsides covered with genista, 
over banks pink with the campion, or pmple with the 
heather. The road, too, is better, in that the stones are 

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smoother, and the views more varied and enchanting. At a 
sharp comer we meet a man riding on a horse, and, accom- 
panying him, a handsome woman walking/ However, 
huge gold beads and a Maria Theresa, with four gold rings 
on her large fingers, betoken the affection of her husband 
as well as her lofty social position! 

We climb another short incline to another hilltop, where 
the panorama is magnificent; — the open sea with estuaries 
weU defined; the heights of Giupana and Meleda; and the 
tiny town of Mezzo, nestling in a cove beneath a ruined fort. 
Our exclamations, as well as our adjectives, are exhausted 
before we reach a simny slope, planted with apples and 
olives and hedges of rosemary, — where from a terrace above 
an excited voice attempts to stop us, and a man gesticulat- 
ing frantically points to the shady vale. More peasants, 
all in the fetching yellow-sash costmne, appear upon the 
roadside, and also point eagerly to the lower road. Has 
there been an accident? Is there a bridge broken? Very 
cautiously we crawl down the hill and around the turns 
finally to discover that this anxiety is not for us after all, 
but for one poor little donkey driven by a patient, somewhat 
dazed lad, who is the innocent cause of all this commotion. 
Do they think that we are going to run over everything 
in our way? Evidently 1 — an engine of destruction, with- 
out heed or guidance, running about the country, seeking 
whom it may devour, like the lions of old. The frig^ned 
lad dismotmts, with trembling limbs, and tries to coax his 
steed out of the narrow road; but the donkey, — by this 
time fully aroused to his opporttmities, — the moment he 

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is free from his master's weight, decides to have a good 
roll; and roll he does, kicking up his heels in derision, — 
while we await his pleasure. Shocked by such discourtesy 
to strangers, the villagers look apologetically first at us, 
then at the donkey. Finally His Royal Highness deigns 
to get up, shake the dust from his coat vigorously, and move 
on out of our way. With mutual smiles, — our only lan- 
guage, — we exchange congratulations with the crowd and 
continue our journey. 

More olive groves and the first carob-trees; a chapel 
and a cemetery; a waj^de cross, cut from the moimtain 
stone; — and suddenly two magnificent planes or syca- 
mores, monarchs of all the countrysidel At this time we 
do not know that these trees, — forty feet in ciraunference, 
with a spread of one hundred and ninety-five feet in diameter, 
— are one of the sights in the environs of Ragusa. We 
experience all the joy of discoverers. Their fresh spring 
foliage is exquisite in color, contrasting with the dark 
branches and mottled bark — and their enormous size 
dwarfs all comparison! 

''We are only about fifteen miles from Ragusa," the 
Leader calls over his shoulder, ^'for that must be Can- 
nosa, or Tristeno, as the maps say." From here the high- 
way follows the convolutions of the coast, with wonderful 
views over land and water like another Cornice, with which 
it is well worthy of comparison. 

On through more olive orchards we speed with a glimpse 
of Gravosa in the distance. Beyond Orasac, on an inward 
bend, we get an exquisite pictiue of the deep blue bay of 

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Malfiy then sliding down a hideously steep curve we are 
dose to the water's edge once more. It is the Ombla 
River, — with Gravosa before us on the other side; but we 
turn away and follow its gayly colored banks. Here we 
see the first pahns and Japanese medlars, with quantities of 
yellow genista and purple gilly flowers. 

"Is there no bridge?** I ask, "or ferry?" 

"Yes, there is a ferry at Mirinovo dose by; but it 
is ooly four miles to the source, and we may as well go 
around." 

Small villages succeed one another, or peep from the 
wooded hillside. Here is midsununer, indeed, with roses 
and elder in blossom; artichokes in tiny gardens and our 
own familiar perennials in abundance; for this is the valley 
of the Ombla, a favorite spot with nature lovers. The 
Ombla, caUed by the Greeks Arione, is supposed to be a 
continuation of the Trebinjcica River 'Svhich becomes 
subterranean some two and a half hours' journey away in 
the Herzegovina." (F. H. Jackson.) 

"All these ^sources' are alike," annoimces Her Ladyship 
calmly. "A mass of water boils out of a predpice." So 
we do not dismount to see the Ombla's exit or entrance into 
the outer air. We only receive an impression of an immense 
cliff of stratified limestone, bare and bleak, above a smiling 
vaUey; a big building which we afterward learn is the pump- 
ing station for the aqueduct supplying Ragusa; and a tiny 
chapel; — then we turn again toward the sea, and soon 
reach the harbor of Ragusa, called Gravosa. 

Large steamers find a shelter in this protected port, and 

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here the raihx>ad ends, a mile and a half from the gate of 
the dty. 

The sun is sinking in the sea, birds are singing their 
vesper hymns, the solemn soimd of monastery bells comes 
dearly to our ears, work is ending, rest beginning, in the 
tired town, as we dimb the last hill and speed along the 
fine ^^ Bella ^^ta," in the soft twilight, to our mudi-longed- 
for hotel. 

The Imperial is in the midst of splendid palms and 
pines, magnolias and bamboo. Masses of bridal wreath and 
multiflora roses, ridi blue iris and forget-me-nots, fill its 
diarming garden An arbor of wistaria, in all the delicate 
beauty of its violet blooms, stretches its long length beneath 
our windows, the sea tosses restlessly in the distance below 
an ancient fortress; and close beside us rises the walled 
dty itself, mysterious and fascinating in the early dusk. 



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CHAPTER Xm 
RAGUSA 

O AGUSA was the crowning point of our Dalmatian 
experiences. Never did I appreciate the beauty of 
the open sea until I came to this stronghold of the Adriatic, 
this proud and ancient city, this wonderful siurvival of 
mediaeval times. Zara, Sebenico, Spalato, Ragusa, each 
has its own peculiar charm, the interest increasing as we go 
southward. Zara, complete in itself, a tiny walled city on a 
narrow peninsula shut in by islands; Sebenico and Spalato 
built on large bays with more extended outlooks; but of 
them all Ragusa alone basks in the freedom of the open sea. 
Great waves dash against her worn rock fortress, and no 
islands shelter her from the Adriatic's storms. To be sure, 
there are the ^^Pettini," sharp, teeth-like rocks, projecting 
just enough to warn the sailor where hidden danger lurks; 
and Lacroma, a dome-like wooded islet, crowned by an old 
fort, but on every side the sea stretches away to meet the sky 
in limitless horizon. One sees the faint smoke of far-away 
steamers, or catches the gleam of snowy sails against the 
blue, and longs to follow the white-winged gulls ''over the 
world and far away.*' 

How brilliantly the sun shone on that first momingi 
We wandered to the little park dose by. It is a charming 
combination of rocky cliffs above a crystal sea, — grass- 
grown terraces planted with resinous pines and aloes, 

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yeUow gorse and endless small wild flowers just beginning 
to blossom, lupines and vetches and pittosporum of sweet- 
est fragrance. Ivy clings to the old waU and barred gate 
that shuts ofif a convent garden, where white-coiffed nims 
walk in the formal paths. The wistaria flaimts its graceful 
banners, spiiea von Houttei sends forth its cascade-like 
branches of bridal blossoms, and the pink sprays of the 
tamarisk make a huge bouquet in the green tangle. 

The '^plam people'' appreciate well this flowering beauty; 
they, too, wander in this, their own fair garden; they stop to 
admire the sweet-smelling shrubs and gay borders and 
fold their tired hands contentedly, as they sit here in 
the cool of evening, looking out at the glory of sea and 
sky. 

Love of nature is universal and forms a bond of fellow- 
ship between all naticHis. I feel a glow of friendliness for 
the driver of the little diligence, which plods between Gravosa 
and the city, and has its stand under the mulberries at the 
Porta Pile; for on one of his late ^'runs'' he brought a big 
bundle of spirea and when the sim had set decked his 
horses' bridles with the ^diite branches. These low, green 
stages, little more than wagons, drawn by three bony horses, 
and always filled with a gay crowd of soldiers and peasants, 
are a feature which I hope will not soon be replaced by the 
ubiquitous tram. The driver, with one leg thrown over his 
knee, chats sociably with the nearest passengers. 

I really need not go outside for amusement, for under 
my window passes a constant procession from the fascinat- 
ing old city gate to the surrounding country. Occasionally 

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one sees an open landau, with red-fezzed gentlemen gazing 
about, as strangers are wont to do. 

There is great variety in the costumes and they are pret- 
tier than those of the north. The skirts are dark wool and 
finely plaited. The aprons vary, and the fluted and fringed 
white kerchiefs are worn either tied under the chin or looped 
up on top of the head. Neither are the gold filigree beads 
aUowed to hide their elegance; but, strung on a plain cord, 
which is supposed to lie snu^y in the folds of the fichu at 
the back, they begin just at the collarbone in front and fall 
k>w on the bosom. 

An officer in the pale blue uniform of the Austrian 
cavalry goes sbwly by on his well-groomed horse. A 
young woman in a dark stuff gown, red and white checked 
apron, green kerchief, and carrying one of the flat em- 
broidered bags of the country, accompanfes a chfld of six, 
perhaps to school, for there is a fine new school-house 
on the hill. A Dominican faiar, his white bock floating 
about him; a flock of small school-children with an old 
servant in their midst; a man bent double under a load of 
firewood; three more officers gravely walking their horses 
down the long hill; a pretty kerchiefed Ragusan; an un- 
mistakably English toiuist in knickers, with his red guide- 
book; three women, each carrying a brilliant-hued bundle 
on her head, like walking poppies; a squad of cavalry; — 

'^There must be a parade somewhere! Do they cele- 
brate the fite of St. Peter Martyr?'' I ask wonderin^y. 
More gajdy dressed women, one bearing a large, round 
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on her head! And so the kaleidoscopic panorama goes on 
ad libitum. 

I am aroused from my absorption by the suggiestive 
tones of the Leader, sa3dng: ^^ Suppose we get just an 
impression of the old town to-day, and later examine it in 
detail-" 

It is delightful to feel that we have ample time for our 
sight-seeing; no steamer leaving at a fixed day and hour, 
no train holding us to rigid schedule. We may even do 
nothing at all, if we wish; for no limit has been set to our 
stay in Ragusa, and the motor is comfortably installed 
beneath the shelter of its own curtains beside the hotel door. 
There it stands in perfect safety during our entire stay. 

Through the pretty hotel garden and mulberry-shaded 
square by the Post OflBce, we reach the bridge over the old 
moat! What a charming picture between the poplar-trees 
looking up at the city walls and towers against the barren 
slopes of Mt. Sergio! Before us stands the Porta Pile, 
evidently a mere gateway for the many citizens going in 
both directions; but for us, — a brilliant, sun-lit frame for 
ever-changing scenes. Within, a sharp elbow leads to 
the inner gate, and we are at once in the Stradone, the main 
and only wide street in the city. 

^'This was at one time a marshy canal,'' relates the 
Leader, ^^separating the original Roman city from a rural 
colony of Bosnians settled on the slopes of Mt. Sergio. 
But as the dty grew, the two factions came together, the 
canal was filled up, and a line of fortifications built about 
the whole, much as we see it to-day. The patron saint of 

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the Slavic colony was Sergius^ of the Latin colony Bacchus, 
and neither being willing to accept the guardian saint of 
the other, they agreed to choose a new one. At this oppor- 
time moment a pilgrim arrived from Armenia, bearing the 
head of St. Blaise, or Biagio, an Asiatic bishop. While 
resting at Ragusa the saint appeared in a dream warning 
the Ragusans of an impending attack by the Venetians. 
In gratitude for this kindly interest, the Ragusans adopted 
the good bishop as their future protector. Did n't you see 
his statue over the gate as we came through? There is 
another, very curious one, of silver in the church dedicated 
to him and in the Treasury of the Duomo Jackson 
speaks of a wonderful reliquary containing his skull." 
I am only half listening, for the passers-by are so delightful 
to watch, men and women in such a brave and bright 
array. 

^^Did you ever see such steep strips of streets!" exclaims 
the Enthusiast, pausing before a long series of steps be- 
tween tall buildings. 

^'And here is anotherl" cries Her Ladyship, from a 
comer near by. 

Clothes-lines stretch from window across to window; 
the owners on the opposite balconies could touch hands, I 
believe; while in this crystal atmosphere the frowning 
fortress on the mountain-top seems to rise straight up from 
the last house. The shops are filled with silver ornaments 
and embroideries, such as the natives love, and we saunter 
on very slowly, enjo]dng the fresh, first impression of this 
qiiaint old town. 

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^'Did you notice that big Oriental-looking fountain just 
inside the gate?" the Leader asks. 

^'No, the sun was so hot I was hunting for a shady 
spot." 

"There should be a cloister near here," he answers, — 
following the new lead, — and we turn aside where a sign 
reads '^Ljecamica, Farmacia, Apotheke," with an index 
hand. 

A charming spot, indeed, is this old cloister of the Fran- 
ciscans, with its double columns supporting narrow arches, 
its fifteenth century fountain between long stone benches, 
and the roses! — only the orange-tree in the comer opposite 
vies with them for fragrance, while the palms' sharp fingers 
cast black shadows on the friars' walk. 

" I am sure you have shown us the most enchanting spot 
in Ragusa"; but the Leader only smiles mysteriously and 
bids us wait and see. 

On one side of the cloister is the famous Franciscan 
Farmada, where the shelves are still filled with rare blue jars 
and vases, — an inheritance from the Middle Ages, for this 
apothecary shop, founded in 1307, is one of the three oldest 
in Europe. 

At the farther end of the Stradone is the fifteenth century 
clock tower; and beside it stands La Sponza, the ancfent 
mint and custom house, a wonderfully charming building, 
a Venetian fofode with a Renaissance loggia, and a double 
cloister about its small cortUe, where still the cantadini 
gather to dispute over the weights and taxes. This constant 
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the charm of Ragusa, that sometinies architectural detafls 
are overlooked. 

But for the loveliness of the Rector's Palace, a short dis- 
tance beyond the Custom House, no adjectives are adequate. 
The massive columns, the richly carved capitals, supporting 
graceful arches, are but an introduction to the splendid 
entrance, — the Porta della Caritit, flanked by long, arcaded 
benches of marble; and the dignified double doister, with 
its comparatively modem stairway; and the details, — it 
is not enough to revel in the sensuous beauty of the whole, 
the perfect proportions, the creamy color, the lights and 
shadows in its deep reveals. Surely those curious pictured 
scenes upon Onofrio's capitals, the exquisite finish of those 
leaves and flowers, veritable gems of Gothic sculpture, 
must not be overlooked. 

"It was built toward the end of the fifteenth century," 
broke in the voice of the Leader, ** by the Neapolitan Onofrio 
de La Cava, assisted by Michelozzo and Georgio Orsini, who 
did the cathedral at Sebenico. You remember Michelozzo 
designed the Palazzo Riccardi in Florence and the Library 
of San Georgio Maggiore in Venice." 

No wonder it is so pecxiliarly satisfying with that com- 
bination of architects for its sponsors. Every day during 
our stay in Ragusa we linger a while before it, and every 
day at some new viewpoint discover more of its lasting 
beauty. 

The Duomo, built during this same period, was complete- 
ly destroyed by the earthquake of 1667, so that this new (?) 
cathedral contains nothmg to compare in interest with its 

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famous Tieasury. On Wednesday mornings at eleven it is 
shown^ and shortly before that hour groups of tourists, with 
some few residents, begin to assemble. After the massive 
door has been unlocked with its three keys and the bars let 
down, the i»iest and his two assistants take their places 
within and set before the astonished gaze of the people 
gathered at the railing, silver and gokl work with inlays of 
precious stones and rare enamels, until they are dazzled with 
the quantity and variety of design. Most of the objects 
appear to be of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, 
although possibly made at a later date. There are several 
monstrances, two elaborate processional crosses, and many 
curious thorax-reliquaries, besides one supporting the jaw 
of St. Stephen of Hungary, interesting as an example of early 
Hungarian silversmiths' work. With busmess-like despatch, 
other reliquaries of wrought silver representing in natural 
size arms and other portions of the human body are sub- 
mitted to our necessarily casual inspection and then not a 
tenth part have left their cases when the priest for crowning 
efiFect, produces the reliquary containing the skull of St. 
Biagio, the patron saint of the city, the gem of the col- 
lection. This is a truly marvellous work of art, with its 
twenty-four medallions of saints, — Byzantine in style, and 
probably of the twelfth century; these are siurounded by 
the most exquisite scrolls and flowers and leaves in enamel of 
astonishing delicacy and richness. During his close exami- 
nation Mr. Jackson discovered that the date of this latter 
work was 1694. 

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precious relic alone, but the most curious piece of silver- 
smiths' art is yet to come. When the ewer is taken from 
its case I wonder why that bunch of dried grass is allowed 
to remain in it, but learn only by actually touching it that it 
is silver imitation. This ewer and basin were, they told us, 
intended as a present from the Ragusans to the Hungarian 
king, Mathias Corvinus; but he dying before the ambas- 
sadors reached him, it was brou^t back to their own city 
again. Mr. Jackson disputes this date, and believes that 
it belongs to the end of the sixteenth century; but, in any 
case, it bears upon its surface an extraordinarily realistic 
representation of eels and lizards, ferns, flowers, and reeds, 
stained and modelled with a fidelity to nature nothing short 
of marvellous. 

^'Suppose we have a brisk walk this morning,'' suggested 
Her Ladyship, one cool, clear day; and instantly the Leader 
rose to the occasion. 

''Why not tv. San Giacomo? It ou^t to be attractive 
all the way." 

So we set out. Throu^ the Porta Pile, — always with 
renewed delight, — along the Corso, by the Dogana and the 
Roman stairs leading to the church of San Domenico, under 
the triple archway of the Porta Ploce, we follow the ancient 
route above the sea. We do try to walk briskly, but hotter 
and hotter grows the sun, and more and more dusty the 
road. Between high walls, as in Italian suburbs, it leads 
us until we reach scattered villas, and can look down into 
their lovely gardens. When we arrive at San Giacomo 
de^ Olivi, we find only an abandoned and bolted building; 

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but the views of Ragusa between the cypress trees, beyond 
the aloe blossoms, against the sparkling sea* — with La- 
croma as a pendant jewel, — well repay us. 

A group of Ragusan misses are sketching the picturesque 
belfry of the old monastery, with its attendant sycamores 
against the blue green of the moimtain-side. In their short 
walking suits, shirt waists, and sailOT hats, they seem like 
well-bred English girls; indeed, their low voices, gentle 
manners, their interest in their work, and attention to the 
criticisms of their young teacher, set an example for the 
school-girl of any country. 

Returning from San Giacomo, we stop at the Dominican 
monastery to rest a bit within its lovely cloister. A tiny 
balcony, high up against the wall, has the utmost fascmation 
for me. Does the Father Superior look from it over the 
blue sea and refresh his soul with glimpses of a heaven on 
earth, — or is it merely a gallery from which to announce 
great tidings. Beneath the willow trees are pots of mar- 
guerites and lilies; low evergreens and oranges in bloom; 
an open flagged space enclosing a stately well; and all 
around, the Gothic arches with their strange interlaced 
circles casting cool shadows upon the quiet walk. 



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OAVING been told that Tuesday is market-day at 
Ragusa, I start out early in the morning toward the 
square where fruits and vegetables are ofiFered for sale. 
There is no such picturesque crowd as at Zara on 
Good Ftiday, but here and there roaming about the 
narrow streets are country women, brave in rich costumes, 
jewelled belts, and dangling head<hesses. These are 
the Herzegovinians. One, so well dressed that I hesitate 
to ask her if she is willing to be photographed, tosses 
her head and moves her fingers, unmistakably demanding 
money. 

"One kronen." 

"Oh, no!" 

"WeU, sixty heller." By this time another spfendidly 
attired specimen has appeared — from the ground for all I 
can see. 

"One kronen for the two," I bargain from sheer iorce 
of habit. 

"No, sixty for me and sixty for her first!" What a sad 
comment on her experiences with another race! 

When I have given the promised sums they stand like 
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Guardar^ — they will not be diverted from their grim 
purpose. They are having their pictures taken, and every 
nerve and muscle betokens it! 

The white lace veils which the women wear fastened with 
filigree pins and tassels to their tiny caps, or beaded fillets, 
and floating over their shoulders, are very effective. I quite 
sympathize with an English tourist, who is apparently 
attempting to persuade one of the women to sell him some- 
thing. She looks puzzled and shakes her head, but later 
on from a tiny shop comes loud and clear in the up-and- 
down intonations of the Cockney; ''No, I want a female 
costume." 

The harbor of Ragusa, Porto Casson, is a delightful 
place to linger. Here are to be seen the larg^ fishing-boats, 
— with their curious night lanterns for attracting sardines, — 
quaint barks from nei^boring lands, ships from distant 
ports, and occasionally a steamer or two. Often a new 
costume may reward one, althou^ the familiar attire is 
varied enough always to delist the eye. 

"Do look,** cries the Enthusiast, "on the deck of that 
steamer by the dock,** and she strug^es to refrain from 
pointing out a pretty woman, dressed in full Turkish trous- 
ers, long maroon velvet coat, trimmed with silver braid, 
and a white kerchief on her head. Instead of sittmg cross- 
legg^ on the floor she is evidently very comfortable upon the 
bench, and instead of peering from behind a veil she is 
openly smoking a cigarette and chatting with two men in a 
truly sociable manner. 

"Is this the new woman of Turkey?** I ask Her Lady- 

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ship, but we discover later that even the Christians wear 
those abominably ugly full trousers in the Herzegovina. 

From this same harbor goes forth to Lacroma a small 
naphtha launch none too dean or comfortable. Before we 
quite realize what we have attempted, one silvery still day 
we embark on it for the lovely islet. Her Ladyship makes 
no boast of seaworthiness, and the Enthusiast becomes limp 
at the first deep swell, but the Leader encoiurages us by 
pointing out the short distance and endeavors to distract ul 
by tales of the isle itself. We finally, — it is only in reality 
about twenty minutes, — approach dose to the wooded 
rocks, but see no sign of port, only a white cross, which 
marks the shipwreck of an Austrian man-of-war in 1859. 

Slowly we sail on. The soft south breeze blows gently, 
the sea is transparent, reflecting the mossy cli& and the 
wind-tossed forests. Above us looms an ancient fort, and 
against a tangle of green wildness shines a square campanUe. 
This was at one time the home of Crown Prince Rudolf, and 
before him of Maximilian of Mexico, who made from the 
old monastery of San Marco a royal chdteau siurounded by 
splendid gardens. Now it is back in the service of the 
church once more, being occupied by the Dominicans. 

Behind us lies Ragusa, her round towers by the water, 
her walls and andent fortifications on the mountain-side, 
and the grassy banks on Sergius' very top denoting the 
modem fort. 

Lacroma itself is a delight. We climb by shady paths 
strewn with rosemary and gorse to the monastery court. 
Then from the orange garden and tangle of roses, from the 

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palms and aloes, by successive terraces we descend to a 
charming viewpoint overlooking the distant city and the sea. 

But the great joy o! Lacroma is her wealth o! wild 
flowers. Under the ilex forest, yellow and purple, blue and 
ivory, they star the dusky ground. One exquisite blossom 
(Cistus Monspdiensis) growing in great profusion resembles 
a Cherokee rose. It is enough to make the studious and 
would-be intelligent Enthusiast cry out with despair, for all 
of this flora betongs to another botany than hers, and to be 
denied even a bowing acquaintance with these fair denizens 
of the forest is a real trial. The air is sweet with pine and 
locust and orange blossom. We sit in the cool shelter o( 
the twisted trees and watch the glistening sea. 

'^I believe the wind has risen,'' renuu-ks Her Ladyship, 
scanning the leaping wavelets anxiously. 

^^ You must not exert your imagination so much,'' mock- 
ingly refdies her companion. ^^Let me know when you see 
the launch," and so sajring, he saunters off toward the beach. 
But it does not have to be annoimced; we hear it from afar 
before it turns the comer of the rocky bluff, and hurry to 
the tiny pier. Silently we take our seats with one or two 
other passengers and begin our voyage homewards. The 
wind has risen, nothing to disturb a larg^ craft, but the 
short, choppy sea tosses our small laimch in horrid, juminng 
motions. 

''It is not far, you know," the Enthusiast comforts, and 
c^rs licorice — her favorite panacea — to her pale com- 
patriot. 

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escaping £rom its sickening fumes, and still the towers of 
Ragusa loom afar. 

*^It does not seem as if we made any headway at all/' 
I cry at last. ''How much longer are we going to be, do you 
suppose? Is n't it getting wcMTse?*' 

''We are passing the most exposed part now/' counsels 
the Leader. "Look, the sea is quite smooth over there." 
And soon we enter the region of calm and thankfully set 
our feet once more on terra firma. 

"I think I must be a hoodoo/' cries Her Ladyship that 
evening i/dien, somewhat strengthened by an excellent 
dinner, she has recovered her usual good spirits, "but I 
don't mean to go to any more islands." 

"We will take the islands some other time in a big boat," 
is her brd's reply. 

How completely has Ragusa preserved her mediaeval 
aspect! "From whatever side you regard her, she appears 
surrounded by a chain of frowning towers and girt by mighty 
walls, over yAdch little more than the towers of the church 
can be seen, while toward the sea she presents nothing but 
a line of walls and towers, crowning the verge of an inacces- 
sible pcedpkeJ^ One may walk aroimd the city on these 
walls, thus getting an excellent idea of the sixteenth century 
system of defence, besides many glimpses into the daily life 
of the present time. It is not a fatiguing promenade, al- 
though there are many short flights of steps, as within these 
walls Ragusa measures only about 450 jrards square. 

Each town in Dalmatia seems to have led its own in- 
dividual life, with nothing but hostility for its neighbor. 

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Indeed, ^'Dalmatia, though nominally a kingdom, has never 
had any independent national existence. . . • It is not 
so much a distinct coimtry as a convenient g^ogrs^hical 
expression.'^ Even its inhabitants are not usually known 
as Dalmatians, but by the part of the country from which 
they come. As an Austrian Province, it has representation 
in the parliament of Vienna. 

This fascinating region deserves to be better known and 
its excellent highways more frequently traversed. I say 
^'excellent'' from an American rather than from a French 
standpoint. They are certainly superior to the Spanish and 
are fully equal to the average Italian roads. 

No one can admire the sea more than I, — its majesty, its 
color, its ever-changing aspects; my enthusiasm is boimdless 
— when contemplating it from dry land; but when on its 
fickle surface, my mind, indeed, my whole being, is so fully 
preoccupied that any appreciation is impossible. Viewing 
a coimtry from the sea only, one may get marvellous color- 
efiFects and charming pictiues, but often a false impression. 
For instance, one author wrote that the interior of Dalmatia 
must be like the desert of Sahara. Now, nothing could be 
further from the truth. These ashen, limestone peaks or 
boulder-covered plains, alternating with green plateaus and 
valleys, are in striking contrast with the brown-stone moun- 
tains or the apricot-colored sand on the rolling siuf ace of 
the great Sahara Desert. 

In no way is the geographical conformation of a coun- 
try so forcibly impressed upon one as in automobiling. 
Plains and valleys, gorges, hills and mountain ranges, river 

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courses, lakes and waterfalls^ with their characteristics and 
relations to one another^ are learned in a manner not soon 
forgotten. And by no other means can one come in such 
direct ccmtact with the people of a country busy about their 
dafly tasks. 

Toward sunset is the time to visit Lapad, a wooded prom- 
ontory jutting into the sea westward from Gravosa. Leav- 
ing the carriage at the gate of the Villa Bravacic, we begin 
climbing the rough, steep paths made by flocks of sheep, 
leading to the summit of Mt. Petka. A shy young shep- 
herdess greets us pleasantly, as we toil upward, and reas- 
sures us as to the good intentions of her barking dog. 
*^Gobj, Gob]/' she calls, in successive intonations of com- 
mand and conunendation. She is busy with some embroid- 
ery, instead of the usual knitting, but hardly glances at it as 
she talks. Of coiurse we do not know one word of her 
Slavic speech, but her meaning some way penetrates fully 
to our understanding. 

After this we meet no one, no habitation is to be seen, 
nothing but shrubby growth of junipers and tanked sprays 
of greenbrier and the sharp, stiff leaf of a kind of bushy 
smilax under the twisted pines. One of our number — 
far be it from me to divulge which one — weakens after 
half an hour of scrambling over loose pebbles, up steps 
formed of the knotted roots of ancient trees, through shut-in 
forests, peeking in vain at each cork-screw turn to get at 
least a glimpse of the promised view, only to find that the 
wild growth guards its secret well. No hint of sea or shore 
penetrates these dark preserves. 

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^^ I go no farther/' breathlessly, but with determination, 
cries the Renegade; ^^You go on, and I will wait for you 
here," and she throws herself upon the fragrant pine needles, 
her head upon a hospitable stone, and at once the trees whis- 
per together and begin to move in solemn, slow procession. 

"You don't know what you 've missed,'' a familiar voice 
comes faintly to my ear, and as I jump up hastily it continues, 
"Why, I do believe you 've been asleep!" 

"Asleep?" I scorn the word! I have been transported. 
My soul has gone a-sailing in far-off mystic spheres. 

"Was it fine?" I politely question; but I must confess 
that as I listen to the glowing accoimt of the places seen 
from that wooded height, my ghostly procession of warriors 
and clansmen seems much more real than they. 

In the early morning a colony of sparrows chatter among 
the pines of the hotel garden, a flock of whirling swaUows 
swings about the castle cliff, a sheen of white-winged gulls 
flashes across the deep blue dancing water. How good it is 
to be alive! In the sununer warmth much of our nervous 
energy has departed, and it seems quite enough to linger 
on the flower-bedecked rocks, or idly watch the passers-by. 

"Have you seen that curious little tree springing from 
between the stones over the door of San Guiseppe?" I ask 
the Leader at luncheon. 

"Yes, at teast I noticed something queer up there." 

"I wish we could go that way the next time we go into 
the city. I want to see if I can get a picture of it." 

"I know you can't," he answers discouragingly, "for the 
street is only about ten feet wide and the top of the 

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door must be at teast fifteen or twenty feet from the 
ground/' 

But we go over and examine the curiosity, for curious it 
is. About fifteen feet high and apparently flourishing, the 
tree is held dose to the fofode by an iron band, and on an 
encircling piece of pottery are the dates 1806 and 1896. 
Whence it receives its nourishment, no one can tell. By no 
method can the kodak be turned enough to get a good 
picture of it. Oiq)08ite, however, is an iron gate in a 
high wall. I peer within, and quietly pushing it open go 
inside, whence a flight of steps leads to a terrace, but even 
there the wall conceals the coveted object, and I keep on 
up another flight to a small porch bom where, to my joy, 
the tree stands deariy outlined. A kindly faced young 
woman appears from within, with two children clinging to 
her skirts and hospitably oflfers me the shelter of her home. 
I motion to the tree and she, well pleased at my discovery, 
pours forthaflood of pataiSf of which I only catch ^^mtroo^" 
and ''beOo'' and ''quarene ami:' 

^'Are n't you coming?" sounds clearly from below. 

''Yes, yes,'' I murmur, and hasten to rejoin my com- 
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RAGUSA 

"\X^HERE are we going first, to-day?" I ask, as we 
start out one glorious April morning. 

"To the market to buy some chocolate," gayly answers 
Her Ladyship. And so to the market we go. While the 
sweets aie being purchased I wander to the other side of 
the square and stop before the booth of a vender of 
vegetables. 

"Will you be kind enough to tell me the name of that 
bird?" I inquire. For amidst the fluttering pigeons a taU 
gray-wing^ creature, with spotless head and breast, stalks, 
very much at home. 

"It is a sea-gull," answers the market-man. 

"But he has no fear, not even of the dogs," I remark in 
surprise. For two or three come boimding along at that 
moment, barking vigorously and scattering the pigeons at 
their feast. 

"No, he is tame. He was caught very young and 
taught, — he is most intelligent and knows whether the 
dogs are muzzled or not. He knows many things and for a 
barometer he is better than any glass. Three or foiu: days 
beforehaqd you can tell by his cries when the weather is 
going to change." 

" In that case perhaps you will inform me if it will rain 
to-day," — for the skies are overcast. 

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"E — h! Maybe a sprinkle or two, but not much." 

"And to-morrow?" — I venture, for we have planned a 
motor ride. 

"No, nothing to speak of," he assures me, — perhaps 
seeing my ardent desire for sunshine. 

"What is his name? I mean, what do you call him?" 
I ask. 

"Piero. Here," raising his voice, "Piero, Piero!" 
And the bird, at the other side of the square, picking at some 
refuse, instantly comes at the well-known call. 

"How dear he isl Can't I buy something for him to 
eat?" 

"Not here, — he eats commeal or bread or fish"; and 
a friendly customer, standing by, opens her parcel and gives 
me some pieces of small fish, which Signor Piero deigns 
rather indifferently to taste. The venders are much inter- 
ested in my photographing him as he stands at my feet. 

A band is moving rapidly up the street, and I ask the 
shopkeeper what is going on. "A funeral," he replies; 
"outside the Porta Pile." 

"To San Michele, perhaps?" I ask, to ascertain whether 
the procession will pass through the town. 

"No, to Lapad," he replies. 

"It must be an elaborate ceremonial," I venture, for I 
had seen men carrying wreaths, going up the hill all the 
morning. 

" Oh, no! No one but a signora," he dubiously responds, 
with the true Orfental attitude toward the fair sex. 

The costume of a slim young Ragusan is very attractive; 

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the dark stxiff gown is trimmed with red bands, short to 
show white stockings and red shoes; a spotless apron and a 
white coif over a coquettish red cap complete the charming 
picture. Not only are the women gay as butterflies, but 
the men vie with them in the variety and splendor of their 
attire. Here is a Tiurk in full Oriental costume smoking a 
cigarette as he rides along on his ambling donkey; and here 
is a man in a new costume, a white lamb's-wool fez, black 
and red striped silk coat with tight-fitting sleeves and a 
short black sleeveless jacket heavily embroidered in red; 
a broad Persian sash is twisted about the waist and the 
tight white lamb's-wool trousers are trinmied with a curious 
black appliqui and fastened close at the ankle with sHver 
hooks. I long with my whole heart to beg him to stand still 
for one small moment, but he looks so fierce, he takes him- 
self so seriously, — no, I really am afraid I dare not. And 
he passes swiftly out of sight. 

^' I think he is bom Albania," remarks the Leader. *^ We 
may see more of them in Montenegro.'' 

A group of women go chattering by, their huge round 
baskets deftly balanced, as usual, on their heads. These 
baskets contain anything, evidently, &x)m cbthes to market- 
ing and are often topped by an umbrella or broom. By 
this method, the hands are left free to swing or to assist a 
weaker sister. 

It is a law-abiding country, off here at the edge of Europe. 
I saw but four policemen in aU, — ornamental rather than 
necessary, — ready always to assist the foreigner with the 
intricacies of dialect. Where in our own country would it 

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be safe to leave a motor car at the boat door, day and 
nighty the extra tires only strapped on and nothing locked? 

In the thirteenth century the (Hily stone buildings in 
Ragusa vvere the castle and the churches, all others being 
of wood. Monte Sergio was then covered with forest; 
indeed, the Slavic name of Ragusa, Dubrovnik, means ^'the 
woody/' Many of the now barren mountains in the interior 
of Dalmatia were once green with vast tracts of the mari- 
time pine; but the Venetians found this wood invaluable 
for their ships so they ruthlessly strii^)ed the country. 
Without the protection of trees, the soil was washed down 
from the slopes by the rains, leaving nothing but the sterile 
rock. In certain regions the government is planting young 
pine and beech trees, hoping in time to make fertile once 
more these waste places. 

From what calamities has this charming dty of Ragusa 
risen triumphant! Burned to the ground in 1292, swept by 
the plague in 1348, continually fighting for her real inde- 
pendence, in 1358 she passed from Venetian protection to 
that of Louis of Hungary. But aside from tribute to be 
paid, a certain nimiber of galleys to be furnished, the ob- 
servation of royal feasts, and the use of the royal banner, 
she was left to govern herself under her own laws, while 
Himgary kept her enemies away. During the next century 
she developed an extensive commerce, not only with the 
Venetians and the Hungarians, but also with the Turks, 
then just beginning to make themselves felt in Europe. 

In 1420, when aU the rest of the country became Vene- 
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territory by purchase or royal grant bom Stagno on the 
north to Punta d'Ostro at the mouth of the Bocche di Cat- 
taro on the south, about lOo miles. Then she was in truth 
an independent Republic, although in time of need she felt 
that she could rely on Hungary, and afterward upon Austria, 
for aid. A very progressive little Republic she proved, 
for besides enriching her city with splendid buildings, in 
1417 she prohibited slave-dealing, in 1432 established a 
Foimdlings' Hospital, and in 1435 opened the first public 
schools. She brought water from Gionchetto, eight miles 
away> and erected elaborate foimtains at both her gates. 

About 1450, many wealthy Slavic refugees, fleeing from 
the Turks, came to settle in Ragusa. They seem to have 
taken kindly to Italian civilization and to have become 
patriotic citizens. In 1460 Ragusa itself was besieged by 
the Turks, imder Mohammed II., but was successful in buy- 
ing off the enemy. 

A second fire and a terrible visitation of the plague 
occurred in 1462; but the imdaimted Ragusans rebuilt 
their Rector's Palace and many other public buildings, 
increased their commerce by new treaties, and prospered 
exceedingly. At this time Ragusa is said to have had 40,000 
inhabitants. Its productions were shoes and glass, coral 
wares and wax, and after 1539 it manufactured woollen stuffs 
and silks. Think of this tiny Republic sending her pro- 
ducts not only to Italy, but to France and Spain, to Egypt 
and even to the Indies 1 "The word * argosy,' or 'ragosy,' 
is said to have meant, originally, ^a ship of Ragusa.'" 

But in 1520 a new terror came to this stanch little 

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Republic, — a terrible earthquake, lasting at intervals for 
twenty months and doing hideous damage. This was fol- 
lowed by so dreadful a plague that 20,000 persons are said 
to have lost their lives. 

With the sacrifice of tribute, vessels, and many soldiers 
to assist Charies V. against the Turks; with the depreda- 
tions of the Uscocs, and the shocks of further earthquakes 
and more pestilence, Ragusa began her decline; and when 
finally she had leisure to rebuild her ships, in 1640, she 
foimd two new rivals on the sea, — England and Holland. 
But the most complete calamity that befell her was the earth- 
quake of 1667, which demolished the cathedral, imroofed 
all the chiurches and a multitude of private houses, and killed 
five thousand persons. The city took fire and became the 
prey of hordes of marauders. After order was in a measiu:e 
established, another site was proposed to the Ragusans 
on which to rebuild their city, but they preferred to remain 
on this dangerous mountain-side, where earthquakes still 
occur, certainly on an average of once in twenty years. "In 
1805 the first capital sentence for twenty-five years was pro- 
nounced. The city went into mourning and an executioner 
had to be brought for the purpose from Turkey.'' (F. H. 
Jackson.) In 1806 the French occupied the city> and on 
January 31, 1808, Napoleon decreed that this stiuxiy Re- 
public of Ragusa should cease to exist. Since 1814 it has 
been joined to the other cities of Dalmatia imder Austrian 
rule. 

With what wisdom its rulers must have administered 
this State that it could survive throu^ aU these centuries> 

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for its position '^exposed it to constant alannsi surrounded 
as it was by troublesome neighbors, and subject alternately 
to the intrigues and ambitions of Venice, the imsettkd and 
discordant projects of the Slavonian princes, the imstable 
friendship of the Himgarians, the selfish views of the Span- 
iards, and the capricious insolence of the Turks, to the 
ignominy of whose protection the hostility of Venice obliged 
it to submit; and the whole career of the Ragusan Republic 
was a strug^e for self-preservation, and the maintenance of 
its independence in the midst of constant danger.'' (Sir 
Gardner Wilkinson.) 

The very best time to be in Ragusa is the first two weeks 
in May, for then the roses are at their loveliest and Summer 
is in full swing. The day before we leave this happy city 
I hie me to the market-square, once more to see the digni- 
fied sea-gull. 

"Good-morning," — I accost the busy market-man at 
his booth, "where is Piero to-day?" for I had searched both 
squares. 

His eyes wander over the pavement, then lift to the 
clouds. "He must have gone to the fish market," he an- 
swers quietly; "He will soon be back." 

"Does he fly there?" I ask. 

"Why, certainly," he replies, — as if to say, '*How else 
should he go?" 

"But his wings are not clipped, then?" 

"No, indeed," he somewhat indignantly responds. "He 
will be back here soon." 

"He is a marvel, yoiu: Piero, I think." 

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''He is a most intelligent bird/' responds the nuurket- 
man. 

I wait before the Rector's Palace, feasting my eyes upcm 
its lovely lines, gazing at the casual and pictuiesque passers- 
by, and drinking in the sweet, soft southern air, and it is 
not very long before my friend, the market-gardener, cries 
from his busy booth: ''Look!" pointing to the sky. With 
a graceful sweep, the sunlight tinning his snowy breast to 
silver, down flies Piero, the intelligent, alighting within a 
stone's throw of my hand. How saucily he cocks his head 
(m one side, as much has to say, "It is nothing. It is per- 
fectly easy. Why don't you try it ?" 

When we were resting after dinner that evening the 
Leader broached the subject of motoring all the way to 
Cetinje — a feat not usually attempted by tourists. 

"Do you suppose we can do it?" cried the Enthusiast. 

"Easily enough," replied the Leader of the Expedition; 
"if we can only get across the Bocche." 

"You know General Winchester had to tiun back at the 
ferry," reminded Madame Content, with her usual caution, 
for "the ferry" consisted of a good-sized row-boat. 

"Yes, — but motors have been over." 

"As large as ours?" 

"Oh, well, of that I am not sure. If only the road were 
com];deted!" 

For there is to be a wonderfully interesting drive dose 
to the shore, leading from village to village entirely around 
the five bays constituting the so-called "Bocche." Beneath 
towering mountains, it continues from Castelnuovo through 

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Meljine, Zelenika, Kamenari, Morinje, RisanOi Peiasto, 
Orahovac and Dobrota, to Cattaio, where the climb into 
Montenegro begins. Aheady it is finished as far as Eamen- 
ari and is passable, although somewhat narrow, for a few 
miles fmther on. I believe one intrepid motorist pene- 
trated into its depths so far that he had to run backward a 
mile before finding a suitable place in which to turn around 
again. Probably this is the old Roman road which came 
down bom Aquileia throu^ Epidaurus (Zara Vecchia) 
turning at Castelnuovo to connect these colonies of the 
Bocche with Durazzo on the coast, just beyond the mouth 
of the Drin. 

^^Let us go down to Zelenika, an3rway, and look at the 
facilities for crossing," advised the Leader; ''if we find them 
inadequate we can easily tiun back." 

''You won't take any risks with our i^ecious car, will 
you?" begg^. Madame Content; and being reassured, the 
date was decided upon. 

This was Tuesday. On Wednesday a charming Eng- 
lish couple called with a letter of introduction bom 
a mutual friend, and naturally the talk fell upon our 
plans. 

"No, I 'm afraid we won't be able to take that wonder- 
ful drive in the motor," answered Madame Content; "and 
the seven hours' climb in one of those uncomfortable little 
carriages rather appals me." 

"Oh, I'm siu:e you can get your automobile across 
someway," encoiuraged these new acquaintances. "Why, 
the Prince has one at least, and a year ago we met two on 

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the way up. Do you suppose they shipped them by 
steamer from here to Cattaro?" 

And with this hint the Leader beg^ making inquiries; 
but the banker and the gasoline dealer both agreed that 
the steamship company, not being accustomed to handling 
such bulky, heavy, yet delicate, objects, the landing arrange- 
ments at Cattaro would probably be found unsafe. In 
fact there would be too much risk of disabling the car and 
so closing abruptly our pleasant joiuiie]rings. 

"Why not get a government barge?" suggested this 
resoiuxeful En^ish authoress. 

" Of course, a government barge would solve oiu: difficul- 
ties, and be the very thing; but we imderstand that naturally 
the Austrian navy is not loaning its vessels to stranded 
motorists without orders from headquarters; and a permit 
from Vienna might take weeks to reach us.'' 

"Perhaps we could do something,*' interposed the help- 
ful lady; "the commandant at Castelnuovo was very kind 
to us last year, and if he could, would be glad, I am sure, 
to assist you. Certainly it would be no trouble for us to 
make inquiries, as we are going to Cattaro to-morrow. I 
think you wiU find aU the Austrian officials most courteous 
and anxious to do everything in theur power for visiting 
strangers. What day did you say you wished to cross?" 

" Why, Friday or Satimlay would be equally convenient." 

"Well, one of us wiU get off at Castelnuovo and see what 
can be done." 

I am afraid we weie skeptical of thefr success, although 
we thanked them heartfly for their endeavors. We knew 

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that motors had been taken across by lashing two small 
boats together — at least, so we were told. How they man- 
aged to g^t them down from the dock some six feet above 
the water into those same boats was not explained. 

"Oh, yes! We have taken over big cars — some that 
weighed ten tons/' boasted one too ambitious native. As 
our car only tipped the scales at the modest weight of one 
and (Hie-half tons, we regarded with some suspidcm any 
further statement this well-meaning Dalmatian might make. 

Great, therefore, was oiu: surprise and joy when we 
received from our influential friends the wekx>me news 
that they had been able to arrange everything for us; and 
that by applying to the conmiandant at Castelnuovo the 
barge would be sent to Eamenari to carry oiu: motor across 
that narrow but important strait in the Bocche di Cattaro. 
It was decided that we start early the next day. 



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DIERO was right — it did not rain, — and the sun was 
shining ^oriously when I awakened that morning to 
the sound of martial music in the street. Opening the 
shutters, I spied a military band marching gayly by, followed 
by a company of infantry, and the usual adoring crowd of 
small boys. It seems to have plenty to do, — this military 
band, — for scarcely a day passes that we do not hear it in 
some quarter of the city. It plays well, too, — quite a 
fipertairey from Chopin's Funeral March to the Merry 
Widow Waltz, 

But what is this? The music has tinned in by the hotel 
and halts at the entrance under our windows — rather a 
delicate bit of attention at parting, I muse, although, per- 
haps, seven^thirty in the morning is a bit early for enthusi- 
asm on the part of the recipient ! But they do not linger, — 
they are evidently a much-in-demand band. After one 
tune, down the hill they go, still playing, and the echoes of 
the music come faint and more faint as they disappear 
through the Porta Pile and back to their quarters again. 

Another band is heard in the distance, another band 
marches up the hill, another band turns in and stops under 
our windows. ReaUy, this attention is growing overpower- 
ingl They play two times in our bewildered ears ^i^iile 
the curtains of the automobile are taken off and the top put 

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down, rcady for travelling. The dust whirls in clouds 
through the small court. Little girls have joined the proces- 
sion, some of them leading by the hand brothers too tiny to 
trudge alone. A victoria below has lilacs at the horses' ears 
and adorning the lanterns. Is he a nature-loving coach- 
man; or is some one important leaving by the boat this 
morning; or is this a May Day celebration? 

Behold, still a third band makes its appearance! I had 
no idea that there were so many in Ragusa. Smaller in 
numbers, perlu^, this one plays with vim and without the 
as^stance of the drum major. The officer in charge does 
not enter the hotel and the stay is brief; the big bass drum, 
conveniently rolling on two small wheels, disappears down 
the hill, foUowed by the flower-decked carriage. 

The school children twirl a rose or carry a bundle of 
flowers, the peasant tucks a deep scarlet one behind her 
soft brown ear. Another vehicle, bedecked with green, 
passes. Evidently it is a festa. And this is the way the 
lively Ragusans celebrate the first of May. 

It is indeed a perfect morning, warm, with a southern 
breeze, and light white clouds drifting over the sky, tempering 
the heat of the sun as we leave Ragusa, — bound for Monte- 
negro. A broad new road has been blasted from the mountain 
side around the walls of Ragusa, thus relieving the Stradone. 

^^What splendid harness!'' cries the Enthusiast, as the 
sun's rays reflect dazzlingly from big brass plaques and 
rings holding bright tassels; for we are on the highway to 
Trebinje and the peasants from the Herzegovina are coming 
to market. 

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"Why do the men wear a thick vest over that long white 
lamb's-wool coat, I wonder, when it is so hot?" inquires 
Madame Content. 

"Because it is the custom, I suppose, for one reason, 
and for another it is so very becoming. Haven't you 
noticed how beautifully they are embroidered and the hang- 
ing buttons of filigree silver ? '* 

"Yes, but that does not make them cod," she persists. 

"Well, they are prepared for aU sorts of weather, you see ; 
when the sun sets and they are climbing the mountains on 
their return homeward, doubtless they will be very ^lad of 
aU that clothing." 

The first red poppies are starring the stony fields, long- 
stenuned dandelions in strange clusters nod gayly from 
under bare rocks, and the air is heavy with the perfume of 
gorse. Near the monastery of San Giacomo we look back 
at the exquisite view of Ragusa, and the green-wooded 
peak of Mt. Petka rising behind the castellated Minceta 
Tower. A bend in the road, and three carriage filled to 
overflowing with men and women in the gayedt of clothes and 
spirits, confront our deli^^ted eyes. The horses, sorry beasts, 
have not the courage to rebel at si^ of this new monster 
and we pass them aU too swiftly. "It must be a wedding 
party," I exclaim; "Did you see aU the sflver coins and 
buttons and braids?" 

"And the gpld-embroidered jackets and beads?" add 
Madame Content. 

"Perhaps they are from the Valle di Breno which we 
soon enter," remarks the Leader. "You remember, the 

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people there aie noted for their good looks and becoming 
costiunes«" 

The excellent road against the side of the cliff overhangs 
the silvery sea; and as we make the innimierable turns, new 
and varied combinations of mountains and deep-cut bays 
are disclosed. Here in the Val d'Orsola the rocks support 
a slender growth of evergreen, just enough to emphasize, 
by its rich shade, the opalescent tints of the bare crags. At 
their feet the water forms a foaming line of white, and point 
after point juts forth into the sea, — until the Punta d'Ostro 
tells where the Bocche begins. 

The mulberries are in full leaf in sheltered comers, as 
leaving the water gradually we ascend through pine woods to 
the top where the Trebinje route branches north. Our way 
lies before us in the luxuriant valley of the Breno, green 
with its figs and olives, oaks and cypresses; in the vine- 
yards men are working* raising small hillocks around each 
precious vine. 

^^Look! — that man wears his sash outside his long white 
coat and he has a turban instead of a cap,'' exclaims the 
Enthusiast, as a donkey with his rider trots calmly by; ^'I 
wish I knew from what part of the country he comes." 

'^It would take a life-time to learn aU these varied cos- 
ttunes," Madame Content replies. '^I think it is nice just 
to enjoy them and not bother." 

Out from the sheltered cove where Breno lies, — passing 
her famous mill and white cascades, — we climb again 
beneath great towering cliffs. Near Plat the smooth high- 
way ascends more gradually above the crystal water, the air 

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is soft with the perfume of gpTsCi and on the crags grows 
my Lacroma flower, like a Cherokee rose. I can resist no 
bnger. ^'Oh, can't we stop and get a bunch of flowers ?'* 
lory. 

'^Why not?'' refdies the Leader. And with a sharp 
knife and protecting ^oves, a branch of yellow gprse is 
plucked and tucked into the hood's supports on either side, 
while men in a field below gaze in wide-eyed wonder. 

At Obed a rough road leads down to Ragusa Vecchia, 
on a point jutting into the bay. The Dalmatians have a 
curious custom of calling a bay or gulf a vallCf which is con- 
fusing to unaccustomed ears; thus this ancient town, so 
picturesquely (daced, lies at the edge of the Valle di Breno. 
Its white bell-towers reflect the morning sun, while the green 
water forms foam-flecked circles around the dank, projecting 
rocks of Mrkan and Supetar. These 'Tettini" of Ragusa 
Vecchia serve as a wind-break to protect the dty. It is 
well named old, as its foundations are lost in the mists of 
antiquity. Since 639, when the Avars ravaged it and drove 
its inhabitants to a safer harbor at the present Ragusa, it 
has survived only as a straggling village- 

We leave the water now and rise through a low scrubby 
growth, meeting more gayly dressed pedestrians and coming 
suddenly upon a groupe of maidens driving loaded mules. 
With a conunon impulse, naturally every one of the dumb 
animak turns and tries to run, but the young girls are fully 
competent for their task. With concerted impulse each one 
attends to her own particular charge and the brilliant colors 
dance over the gray hillock as we stop to let them pass. 

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One particularly pretty creature makes a charming picture 
as she fleetly runs after her escaping beast and drags him 
to safety amidst the yeUow gorse. How triiunphandy she 
stands, one hand on her hip, her cheeks rivalling the bright 
red of her cap under the demure white coif as she beckons 
gayly for us to go on! 

A wider valley opens before us now, beneath high, 
sterile mountains, where a long white line winding downward 
marks the route of the new raihoad. At Cilipi it 
reaches the level of the road and we cross it to descend 
into a flooded plain, — another winter lake, — where 
die green is abeady beginning to show as the water 
recedes. 

Skirting its western side for a few kilometers we reach 
Gruda, a valley of vines, broad and protected on both sides 
by high hills. A small rivulet appears beside us, an un- 
usual sight in Dalmatia; blue swallows circle over it 
and the big blue-and-fawn-colored bird that I saw on the 
pass obligingly perches on top of a low tree, so that I g^t an 
exceUent view of him. Following the tiny rivulet to its 
soiurce, we climb by steep grades to the top of a ridg^ where, 
— just beyond a gendarmerie^ — we gpt our first view of 
the Bocche di Cattaro. 

Very beautiful they are, those land-endrded bays at the 
foot of the Montenegrin mountains, white with snow; but 
the Leader is only giving one-half of his attention to the 
view, as the narrow loops downward are dangerously steep 
and the turns short. Another brook has taken us m charge, 
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finches fly, seeming to leflect the buttercups that gild the 
low-lying meadows. 

Crossmg the river and valley of Sutorina, — a strip of the 
Herzegovinian territory, — and passing the dear little ceme- 
tery of Igalo, purple with growing iris, we come to the 
waters of the Bocche near Castelnuovo. The hills bristle 
with forts; a sentinel looks at us curiously; hedges of pink 
tamarisk bend over the water, its tasselled flowers in exquisite 
contrast with the sapphire of the sea! In the distance, to 
the south, we discern the narrow, well-guarded entrance 
to the Bocche. The signs over the shops and inns are now 
in Slavic characters. 

As we near Castelnuovo the little garden terraces over- 
flow with roses; great bushes, heavy with pink bloom, hang 
over the high walls; and at each fresh discovery we on the 
back seat cannot restrain our enthusiasm. Sheltered by 
high mountains from the north wind, basking in the splen- 
dors of a southern sun, with the waters of an inland sea at 
its feet, Castelnuovo surely possesses aU the conditions con- 
ducive to luxuriant vegetation. 

In Slavic Erzegnovi, "it was founded in 1373 by the Bos- 
niak King Tvarko I., Kotromanovic.'' Later it became 
the capital of the dukedom of the Herzegovina under Duke 
Stjepan Sandalj. Indeed, the name Herzegovina is said 
to have been derived from this town. At his death the 
Turks captured Castelnuovo, but in 1538 they were driven 
out by the Spaniards. This "was the only part of Dalmatia 
ever held by the Spaniards.'' According to tradition, they 
built the picturesque castle on the hill with its four towers, 

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still called Fort Spagnuolo^ but only succeeded in keeinng 
the place a few months, when the Turks overwhelmed 
them. In 1687 the Venetians, assisted by the Kni^ts of 
Malta, added Castelnuovo to their possessions. 

We choose the lower road, passing the ancient fortifica- 
tions, now in picturesque ruins and heavfly draped with ivy. 
The tiled roofs of the houses peep from the wooded hillside 
and many ships and bai^ges are anchored in the port. Close 
to the sea we speed, beneath date palms and cypresses, 
through the military encampment of Meljine, under the 
monastery gardens of Savina, to the present end of the rail- 
way, Zelenika. 

Why Zelenika? Because there a ^Tension^' awaits the 
traveller, dean, although furnished with Spartan simplicity, 
and the cuisine of the Hungarian Major is far-famed through- 
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ZELENIKA 

"HPHERE b n't a single solitary thing in theCSaedeker" 
about Zelenika; just the name aU by itself in the &ie 
print at the end of the line/' ^eefully conunents Madame 
Content, looking up from her guide-book as, — after a 
delicious luncheon, served on a sunny balcony overhanging 
the water, — we sit on the beach enjoying the sweet per- 
fumed air and the sails drifting by. '^There is n't a thing 
to see, no church, no view, no village, even. We can be 
lazy this afternoon," and there is a distinct note of exulta- 
tion in her voice. 

How beautiful it is, with a restful stillness broken only 
by the buzzing of an occasional bee hovering over the flowery 
meadows, dipping into the genista blossoms, or stealing 
sweetness from the wild th3rme at our feet. The apple-trees 
are in bloom and the larches in newest, softest green against 
the pines; up the hillside great magnolias flourish and every- 
where rose vines clamber in profusion. The air is sweet 
with gorae and wiU finocchi; forget-me-nots and buttercups, 
daisies and yellow mustard, star the ground; and in our 
steamer chairs we idly watch the sea. 

A man-of-war rides at anchor just outskle the inlet and 
a black launch floating a pennant half as big as itself goes 
puffing by from Castelnuovo. 

''Do you suppose a train comes out every day, or only 

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once a week?" asks my companion, dubiously. "Do you 
know, I feel as if this were pietty near the jumping-off place, 
don't you?" 

Possibly the absence of her lieg^ lord has afiEected the 
Gentle 1^3^*8 attitude; for he has gpne to Castelnuovo to 
pay his respects to the officials who have so kindly offered 
to facilitate our crossing the Bocche. 

But, divertingly, I point out the big steamers passing to 
and fro, and the sailing ships tacking back and forth from 
the narrow neck of the Canale di Kumbor toward the Baja 
di Topla. The sails here lack the Venetian coloring and 
the broad hulls are crowded with people. Are they, too, 
"observing their first of May as a holiday" ? A fine breeze 
is blowing off shore and the barg^-like crafts speed merrily 
along, one of them so near that we can hear the voices of the 
merry-makers. 

"Are they coming in?" asks the Gentle Lady. Yes, 
a row-boat puts off for the shore with a rope and the 
saflor attaches it to the rocks as simply as if he were tether- 
ing a horse. Soon the sloop floats, silent as a dreamship 
on the water, her sails lowered, her joUy cargo landed. 

"Oh, do come here," cries Madame Content, "what 
is that brown thing floating on the water? Here is an- 
other, and that one has feelers ten inches long, at least. 
Would n't it be fun to catch one and see it closer?" 

"If one only had a stick or a pail," and I go determin- 
edly towards the hotel. 

"What are you going to do?" 

"I am going to gpt one." 

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''You are ?'' and Her Ladyship's mocking laugh follows 
me. 

'' Ohy Signore/' I ask of the immaculate Boniface, ''There 
is such a queer fish out here; it opens and shuts a claret- 
colored sort of fringed parachute. I do so want to see it 
near, — mi^t I have a pail or a net or something?" 

"It must be a medusa/' he remarks in response to my 
feeble explanations. "There are many about here and 
they grow to be ten mches across, but these are yoimg yet. 
Is that it?'' and he points to a spot on the rocks at the bot- 
tom of the dear water. 

"Yes, yes," I exclaim, eagerly A boat is untied, an 
okl tin bucket procured, and we fish up Madamoiselle 
Medusa. In ^ee I carry her to Madame Content with the 
aid of the smiling porter, and we study her strange openings 
and shuttings, her marks and fringe of softest feathery 
brown. She turns politely at our invitation, and submits 
to the kodak without a murmur; but the confinement of the 
pail plainly palls upon her and after a few minutes we 
return her to her own briny element. She breathes with 
new zest and rolls over and over in the lapping water. 

When the Leader comes back from Castelnuovo, his 
alert step and beaming eye denote a new project. "What 
is it?" we both exclaim, but he only replies, — 

"How would you like to take a walk?" 

"We wouki love it, but where?" There seems to be 
nothing but the dusty highroad. 

"I thou^ I saw a path through the woods just beyond 
Meljine." The woods 1 We two exchange glances in de- 

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light at the mere word. Thus tempted, we leave our snug 
comer under the rocks and seek the promised path. 

^^This is the first day we have been comfortable sitting 
out of doors in the shade without a wrap/' remarks Madame 
Content; ''of course, we have been coming south all the 
time, too." 

''But isn't it an ideal May Day?" puts in the Enthu- 
siast; "such as we read about in the olden times when chil- 
dren gathered wild flowers for their wreaths and danced 
about a ribboned May-pole/^ 

"Do look at those steps! What beautiful moss!" inter- 
rupts Madame Content. " Where do they lead, I wonder ? '^ 
and she follows their aspiring outline with her eyes. "Isn't 
that a church or something up there, near that tall cypress ?'' 

The Leader stares fixedly at the white campanile, and his 
eyes dance, but his voice is perfectly grave as he replies: 
"Why, it does look like a church. We might go up and 
see." 

We do; — up, up and ever up, we climb the ancient 
stony steps half overgrown with thjrme, — and gaining the 
high terrace, sink upon its tow wall to look with wonder and 
deli^ over the green hillside, down to the beautiful sea. 
Close beside us are a few okl grave-stones inscribed with 
Slavic characters near a domed church; a tall white belfry; 
a chapel wih a bunch of huge keys hanging hospitably from 
the door-knob; a tong, low monastery with every window 
thrown wide open; — but not a friar or a priest. 

"What is it?" I ask; for this I know is the spot which 
the Leader had in view when he suggested oiu* stroll. 

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''It is the monastery of Santa Savina, not very old, for 
it was founded in the sixteenth century by the Greek or 
Orthodox monks driven from Trebinje by the Moslems; 
but now it belongs to the Bishop of Cattaro, who uses it as 
a sununer residence''; — the Leader is well laimched upon 
his topic ''It celebrates the Assumption with great pomp, 
and the gathering of the peasants at that time must be well 
worth seeing." 

"Oh, when is it?" I cry. 

"The twenty-seventh of August." 

"Oh, dear! Nearly all the pilgrimages have their special 
feste in the Summertime t Don't you remember Rocama- 
dour — " 

"Is that a chapel up there in the trees?" interrupts the 
Leader, "or a look-out? The view must be wonderful 
from there." 

We rise and foUow him up the goat path to another 
lofty terrace. What a panorama lies before usi Santa 
Savina guarded by her solitary pine and towering cypress, 
far below the winding waters of the Bocche di Cattaro 
merging into the open sea, and on the eastern horizon 
the moimtains of Montenegro rising in opalescent 
^lendor. 

As we rest on the ivy-covered wall, where the honeysuckle 
exhales its spicy fragrance, a hidden bird, after a few prelim- 
inary whistles, begins his evening song, — begins it rather 
low, with soft, reassuring murmurs, — then forgetting all 
else, bursts into peans of joy, and trills his ecstasy in gay 
and rollicking numbers. Other birds hear him, farther 

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away, and attempt mimicry, but he triumphantly silences 
all untfl the foiest rings with his melodies. 

In the eariy twilight we leave the sacred height of Santa 
Savina and silently descend on the other side by steep, 
winding paths through its low growth of live-oaks, bay, 
and laurel, — paths sometimes indicated by half-obliterated 
signs on mossy stone posts, but alas! the words are Slavic 
and the letters Greek I There are moments when I sus- 
pect that we have lost our way, — in places the walk degen- 
erates into steps roughly hewn from the rock, but farther 
on becoming smooth and sandy under the whispering pines, 
it leads us to a *^rand pointy^^ where the woods have been 
cut away, enabling one to get a new picture — the gleam- 
ing bare crags of the gray Dalmatian mountains behind all 
this greenness of the shore, and in the foreground, the white 
tents of the Austrian encampment at Meljine. 

'^Let me see," muses the Leader late that same evening, 
**we have only about sixty-eight kilometers to go to-morrow, 
— a little over eleven from here to the ferry at Kamenari, 
than about twelve to Cattaro, and from there I think it is 
forty-four kilometers to Cetinje." 

"I do hope we '11 have a day like to-day," exclaims the 
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YT was with a distinct thrill that we started away from 

Zelenika that sunlit morning, for we were to be in 
Montenegro by nightfall; indeed, if the plans went well we 
should reach Cetinje for luncheon. The sheltered valley of 
the Rucani River was rich in figs and cherries, olive orchards 
extended on the slopes above, and splendid poplars and pines 
cast grateful shade; the level road close to the water's edge 
gave us a constant succession of changing scenes. Off 
Kumbor lay some torpedo boats and a detachment of ma- 
rines passed by us marching. The Bay of Teodo opened 
before us, disclosing a chain of blue mountains with a snow- 
capped peak in the centre. 

''Do you see that highest mountain?" asked the Leader, 
turning around in his seat. ''That is Lovcen, and we go 
in behind it to Cetinje." It seemed incredible that we 
could so quickly reach the lower shoulders and climb the 
far hei^its of this mighty mass outlined against the sky. 

"I never saw so many soldiers," remarked Madame Con- 
tent, "and sailors, too. I don't believe you had better let 
them see yoiu* camera." 

So the innocent black box was sent into limbo and 
the incidents of this short ride were recorded only on our 
memories. 

The clumsy sardine boats, with their huge fishing Ian- 

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terns, were anchored close to the quays, wheie brown nets 
were spread out to dry. Cherry and fig trees Nourished in 
small plats of gravelly beach, divided by stone walls, and 
under their shade lay tiny boats. It made a delightful 
combination 6f sea and land life. 

But scarcely had we been on our way twenty minutes 
when around a sharp bend appeared the stage from Risano. 
The horses, frightened as much by the antics of the terri- 
fied driver as by oiu* approach, reared and backed and the 
poor man shouted and pulled on one rein, not knowing what 
he was doing. The road was extremely narrow, a ditch on 
one side, the quay on the other. We had stopped and turned 
off the power some fifty feet away, but nothing could reas- 
sure the frantic peasant. And nothing could calm his terror, 
imtil, in his endeavor to turn around, the top-heavy vehicle 
tipped over and the pole snapped. I knew then what a 
^'sickening thud" meant. Instantly our Leader and the 
chauffeur ran down to rescue the occupants of the diligence. 

'^ Don't you dare use yoiu* kodak,'' commanded the 
usually Gentle Lady, as I instinctively reached down be- 
neath the robes. '^We may all be arrested any way. I 
don't feel at all secure." 

I have always regretted that I failed to get a picture of 
that foolish driver and the group of dishevelled people who, 
disentangling themselves from loose straps and bimdles, 
crept imhurt from beneath the black hood. The horses 
did not try to run and under the chauffeur's calm guidance 
were safely led by our silent car. The vehicle was righted 
and rope procured to temporarily mend the dilapidated 

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harness. To oiir surprise one of the occupants of the 
stage spoke En^ish fluently, and assured us that no one 
had been injtired by the accident. 

''We shall never get to the ferry at this rate/' exclaimed 
the Enthusiast as, two minutes after we left the scene of this 
exciting episode, another horse began to jump about and 
dance queer figures on the narrow road. 

The stone walls above the water were draped fantasti- 
cally with hides and sheepskins hung to dry. Such loads as 
the peasants carried! One passed us with four demijohns 
strapped across his broad shoulders. 

Here the Bay of Teodo contracts, becoming so narrow 
that when Louis of Hungary was defending Cattaro against 
the Venetians, in 1380, a chain was stretched from shore to 
shore to prevent ships going further. This strait is still 
called Le Catene, and here at the village of Kamenari we 
were to find the ferry. It was cmly about half a mile across. 
How exasperating it would be to any one desirous of pene- 
trating beyond those snowy mountains to know that on the 
further shore extended a beautiful smooth road but to have 
no means of reaching it 1 The water was perfectly calm and 
of an exquisite blue; in the distance an orange safl appeared 
against the gray crags above Perasto; a whitewashed, green- 
domed chiurh clung to the verdant hillside; but most 
beautiful of all to our expectant eyes, the baige, — the 
government barge I — comjdetely manned and with attend- 
ant tug, awaited us bedde the quayl The officer in charge 
was so courteous and pleasant that I determined to risk my 
request. 

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^' Would there be any objection to my photographing 
the car on board?" 

''Not the least," he kindly responded, and the account 
of our crossing was soon registered on the little black spool. 

The actual sailing across that bit of water took us only 
eight minutes, but there was some difficulty in getting the 
heavy car aboard, as the gang-way was hardly wide enou^ 
The prepared platform across the barg^ was so short, too, 
that the front wheels slipped off when the big motor came 
up the slight incline under its own power, banging, and, we 
feared, bending, the pan beneath and perhaps damaging 
the fly-wheel. However, upon examination, it was found 
that no serious harm had been done. When disembarking 
at Lepetane, on the farther shore, no power was applied; 
the sailors rolled it gently off the barg^, the chauffeur 
keeping the wheel straight from his seat in the car. We 
exulted in our successful voyage, bade au revair to the 
captain and his crew, and having made an appointment 
for a future meeting, sped away on the fine road for 
Cattaro. 

Two fairy islands swam in the bay before us, ooe with 
white walls about a blue-domed chiurh and rounded cam- 
panile. ''It is the pilgrimage chiurh of the Madonna dello 
Scalpello," called back the Leader, "and every bit of earth 
was brought there by the faithful, from the mainland. Year 
after year it grew, untfl this island was formed on a single 
projecting rock. The custom is stiU continued, I believe, 
for on the twenty-second of July of each year a boat laden 
with stone puts off with much ceremony from Perasto 

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bound for this shrine. The other island is the abandcHied 
Benedictine abbey of San Giorgio." They lay like jewels 
on the water, guarded by the tiny town of Perasto, nestling 
at the base of huge, bare Monte Cassone. 

Then we turned a sharp comer and the Gulf of 
Cattaro opened before us. Splendid it appeared in the 
brilliant May sunshine, shadowed by the sharply outlined 
Montenegrin mountains, fringed by the white houses of 
many villages! An orange sail moved across the glassy 
blue Soldiers lent animation to the scene. Sentinels 
popped from their boxes at the noise of our approach. 
Every high point held a fortress, and ranges for firearm 
practice were plainly to be seen upon the stopes. Nothing 
could be lovelier than this roadway which skirted the em- 
bankment beneath terraced hillsides, overflowing with olives 
and grapes and other fruits. The Judas trees dropped their 
flower-laden branches like pink garlands over the gray walls, 
and on a jutting rock above the tender green of Springtime 
rose a square white campanile. 

^^That must be gomji^ or upper, Stdivo, I think,'' said 
the Leader, pointing to the graceful tower. 

On the far side of the bay bare peaks rose sheer from 
the shore, making wide shadows on the water. ^'Do you 
see that sharp white zig-zag high up on the mountain's 
shoulder, beneath the snow of Lovoen?" eagerly asked the 
Leader. 

^^What? That queer sort of gigantic angular writing 
on the wall?" 

"Yes, yes, there above Cattaro." 

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''What is it?" I asked, still mystified. 

''It is our route/' he answered, laconically, "into Monte- 
negro." 

I shivered a little and the Gentle Lady whispered, " I sup- 
pose it 's safe." 

"Oh, people do it every day," I reasstued her, boldly! 

"But not with a motor," she protested. 

" Oh, well, it won't seem so steep when we get there — it 
never does, you know." 

Silently we speed on, past Stolivo danji^ or lower Stolivo, 
where more soldiers are marching and drilling in the narrow 
road; past the long-drawn-out village of Perzagno, where 
an unfinished domed church and Venetian fofodes tell of 
former riches. Around another bend we course and the 
bay narrows, the green dome of Cattaro's Greek chiurh 
coming into view, with the ancient castle picturesquely 
placed on an isolated peak above the apparently level town. 
The line of fortifications connecting the castle and town 
runs up the cliff in an amazing manner and blends with the 
mountain rocks so perfectly that only its zig-zag course pro- 
claims its artificiality. 

Here the houses are almost continuous alcHig the wayside, 
each with a tiny harbor and a garden gay with snap-dragons 
and calendula, gilly flowers and iris, snoWballs and lilacs. 
They say that retired sailors live along here, — an ideal 
spot in which to spend one's old age* Many bushes are 
bedecked with ribbons, rags, and colored papers. Are 
they remnants of the May Day celebration? Locust-trees, 
heavy with sweet flowers, grow among the vines on the ter- 

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raced slopes, myrtle and asphodel spring up in neglected cor- 
ners. Our favorite Bon Silene rose is also cherished here, 
and toward the water the forget-me-nots make a carpet of 
blue. 

But the car stops — facing a new dilenuna. The road 
leads between two houses which stand so close together that 
a donkey tethered beside one, in turning to look at us, com- 
pletely bkKks the way. Madame, leaning from her window, 
is much amused and calls the boy, who runs up the hill in 
search of the mule's master. Half of the little hamlet has 
gathered before he appears, breathless, enjoying the absurd- 
ity of the situation as much as any one. ^*Chel A great 
highway 1" he jeers, — or at least his intonations indicate 
that meaning if his words are in a Slavic tongue. And he 
unties the donkey and holds him out of harm's way while we 
go spinning by. 

We meet more soldiers. This time they are carrying 
kerosene tins filled with water for the morning mess. The 
flag upon the castle's tower is flaunting its gay colors against 
the gray cliff as we cross a river, and just outside the town 
of Cattaro come into the highway leading to Montenegro. 

We have been told that every morning, at about eleven, 
a caravan, with supplies of all kinds for Montenegro, starts 
up the moimtain and that it would be wise to get ahead of it 
before coming to the sharp turns and steep grades. I some- 
times think that it is just as nerve-wearing an experience for 
the occupants of the automobile as for those m the wagons 
or carriages meeting it, and we always take every known 
precaution to avoki danger. As we turn sharjdy to the 

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right to ascend the pass, it is, therefore, a satisfaction to see 
before us, nearly ready for the ascent, a procession of four- 
teen large wagons, heavily loaded, standing waiting (or 
the drivers to make their last adieux. Behind them come 
numerous donkeys, with well-filled saddle-bags. 

It is really a feat to pass them without an accident, and 
with all the waits and caution possible, it takes us fuUy 
five minutes, so that we breathe a sigh of relief when we 
face a clear road and the mountain wall. Meadows, pink 
and blue and yellow, extend across the fertile valley, 
where oak-trees flourish in the midst of a vegetation truly 
Mediterranean. 

By foiu* short loops we reach Fort Trinity, which, it 
seemed but a moment ago, faced us from the clouds. Here 
one road leads to Badua, a Dalmatian seaport on the Adriatic, 
one to Fort Vrmac, a thousand feet above us, and the 
other we take, leaving the Gulf of Cattaro, where a toy 
steamer has just come into dock, and getting wonderful 
views of snowy Lov&n, and the Bay of Teodo, and the fer- 
tile fields of Zupa, now freed from their wintry flood and 
green with their harvest of rice. Skirting the base of Fort 
Gorazda, the terraced hollow leading down to Cattaro 
again comes in sight, contrasting with the barren declivi- 
ties of the Montenegrin peaks. At each moment more hills, 
more bays, more snow-mountains seem to outline them- 
selves before us, imtil we perceive the open sea beyond 
Castelnuovo and can trace our route as on a map in the 
wonderful panorama. 

After crossing the empty bed of the mountain torrent, 

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Zvironjak, we soon commence the angular loops upon the 
shoulder of the mountain, which is so bare, so devoid of 
vegetation, that they can be seen plainly for ten miles, at 
least. It is a windless day and warm; the range of snow- 
capped mountains seems imreal. Fort Trinit2t lies far 
below us. The grade is not so steep, but there is not a breath 
of air and not a drop of water to be had. 

We rest our heated engine and throw off our wraps. The 
Adriatic sparkles in the noon sunshine beyond a range of 
mottled mountains. A curtained carriage passes from which 
peeps a woman's red-capped head above her brilliant neck- 
erchief and apron. More loops and ever more extended 
views until we come to a road-maker's house, where pre- 
cious water can be obtained. How marvellous it must be 
actually to live perched up on such a height with such a tre- 
mendous landscape before one! 

As we wait for the radiator to be fiUed, a woman ap- 
pears in the doorway and we look at each other ciuiously. 
She does not lack for color among these gray rocks. Her 
bright plaid skirt and red-striped waist are intensified by a 
scarlet neckerchief and white head-covering. 

Unseen songsters triU their music in this rocky waste, 
and, from the crags, as we go on, a flock of large, black 
birds, startled by our approach, wheel and sail overhead, 
coming so near that we can see their wing feathers free at 
the outer edge. 

"Can you count them?" I cry. "I should think there 
must be forty." 

"What are they?" asks the Leader. 

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"I am not sure," I answer. "Possibly vultures. I 
must see whether there is a book on the birds of this region.'' 

Waiting two minutes to enable a carriage to pass us, we 
ascend five steep windings, and a seemingly interminable 
number of them confront us. I believe that there are sixty- 
eight altogether. The panorama increases in sublime gran- 
deur as we mount upward. Black and white terns are 
abimdant and we catch the flash of white feathers, denot- 
ing vesper sparrows or moimtain juncos. Then passing a 
resonant cavern, we wait six minutes while some Monte- 
negrin horses become acquainted with our automobile and 
are willing to be led by. The riders are gorg^usly attired 
in blue, baggy trousers, red short coat, red and yellow 
striped sash, white socks, and blue shoes, and the red 
cap embroidered with the gokien monogram, '^N. I.'' in 
Greek letters, which all loyal Montenegrins wear. For 
we are now in Montenegro, having passed the Austrian 
boundary a moment a^, and soon we reach the top of the 
pass (3051 feet). 

"It has taken us just an hour and a half to rise so high 
in the world," exclaims the Enthusiast, as we sweep around 
the shoulder of Lov&n and, leaving the forts and endless 
windings of our route, leaving the imposing and rock-ridged 
peninsula of Vrmac between two bays of the Bocche, leav- 
ing the gray moimtains of Krivosije toward Ragusa and 
the sparkling Adriatic, we descend into a stony high [dateau 
and get our first impressions of Montenegro. The roadbed 
is distinctly rough, the landscape barren beyond words, but 
with a grandeur of vast towering heights and great snowfiekis, 

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ENTERING MONTENEGRO 

the mighty peaks of Lov&n rise into the clouds. In scat- 
tered coves small patches of young oaks are growing, and in 
queer circular fields the men are ploughing^ a woman twirls 
her distaff as she walks» boys in white lamb's-wool ck>thes 
take off their red caps as we appfoach, standing at attention 
in military fashion. 

The stragg^ng village of Njegus is soon passed and 
the simple summer home of the reigning dynasty pointed 
out. It is a curious country which lies behind us as we 
begin to climb over the pass of Krivacko Zdijelo (4298 
feet). The low houses are roofed with flat, overlapping 
stonesy the green crater-like fields are enclosed with stone 
walls, and round, paved spaces, evidently threshing floors, 
are also surroimded by rough boulders; from this gray 
basin rise Ueak and sterile hillsides, beyond widch extend 
the eternal snows of Lov&n. Here, evidently, the women 
are not mere butterflies of fashion, nor kept secluded in a 
{dace apart. They have the freedom of the open fields, and 
should the fancy seize them, may walk down the stony 
moimtain paths with barrels of water on their backs. We 
know this, for we saw them doing it. 

In four long loops we continue our ascent, interested in 
each new bird or wild flower. At a wayside trough, where 
predous water is abundant, we again give om: faithful motor 
a drink, and making one more loop attain the top of the pass. 
What a marvellous, overwhelming, and different panorama 
now extends below us on this day of great sensationsi We 
realize, as never bef(»e, the tremendous age of Mother 
Earth, so wrinkled and creased, so haggard and worn are 

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her features. There is no smooth surface anjrwhere, only 
broken heaps of rock in inconceivable disorder, chain after 
chain of distant peaks, and on the horizon a long range of 
snow-covered mountains. 

"That is Albania," cries the Leader, when we have 
taken breath, "and there — do you see it sparkle? — lies 
the Lake of Scutari.'' 

Near us the Earst is dappled with the shadows of flying 
clouds; forests of budding beeches and small oaks lend cobr 
to the scene, and a bird's song, rich, fuU, and &ee, adds the 
last touch to om satiated senses. 

We descend rapidly by sharp and narrow windings, 
pasdng picturesque thatched houses and peasants in grace- 
ful costumes. Soon Cetinje comes in sight, surrounded 
by soft blue peaks set off by snow-capped heights, and in 
the distance Scutari. More windings and twists and short 
turns down, above a valley mapped into green and brown 
fields separated by gray stone walls! 

A treeless highway leads straight into a red-roofed dty. 
It is Cetinje. The men working in the fields rise and salute 
us; the little boys doff their caps, stand very straight, and 
bow from the waist down, deeply; the little girls drop a 
timid and graceful curtsey. Do they think us the royal 
family? For motor clothes are a complete disguise, and 
royalty alone owns automobiles in Montenegro. 

By the time we arrive at the door of the comfortable 
hotel we are quite ready for our luncheon, and to our joy 
discover that French ideab reign in the kitchen. Only the 
Turkish coffee reminds us that we are really m the Orient 

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CHAPTER XIX 

CETINJE 

^^ A RE you tired?" asked the Enthusiast, as we went up 
to our rooms. 

^'NOy I 'm not particularly tired/' answered Madame 
Content, ''but I think we ought to rest a little before seeing 
anything more, don't you?'' 

It seemed a waste of time to rest when such opportuni- 
ties were within our grasp. But there was no law against 
looking out of the window, and that alone might well keep 
one interested for hours. It is a continuous medissval cele- 
bration, a successi(m of brilliant pictures on a stage setting 
of soft tans and greens, with the billowy blue hills rising 
beyond the red-tiled houses. 

How truly spkndki the men appear, sauntering down the 
broad avenue in all the bravery of scarlet and blue, with 
gokl embroidery and hanging cloaks I When they approach 
there is a dazzling effect of gorgeous color, when they turn 
away the sun goes with them. But for their stem coun- 
tenances and long revolvers thrust carelessly through the 
broad sashes, they seem just ready to go on for private 
theatricals. The universal round scariet cap botmd with 
black ''as a sign of mourning for the loss of Servian free- 
dom," with the Prince's initials in gokl within a rainbow, 
is very becoming to these handsome men, and their uni- 
forms of dark blue, or pale blue, or white, show off to per- 

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fection their magnificent physique. One sees no European 
clothes except on the occasional foreigner. Only rarely 
a wheeled vehicle of any kind appears in the broad avenue, 
but six and ei^t abreast the officers, marked by their 
clanking Russian swords, walk leisurely up and down, 
objects of admiration indeed. Do the women peer at them 
from behind the blinds of the pale pink and green stucco 
houses? — for no ladies are to be seen in public. 

A countryman drives his rebelling pigs before him 
toward his home outside the city. He has his hands fuU, 
for there are eight of them and they have ei^t minds among 
them. His long white coat-tails fly in the breease as he 
strides after one or the other, while he uses the end of his 
brown struka as a whip to guide them. One man with a 
plou^on his shoukier walks behind a yoke of oxen; has he 
sdd his wagon in the maricet-place? A group of Albanians 
in their tight, white trousers, with black apftiqut^ red jackets, 
and white fezes amble into town on donkeys. Aman climbs 
up his ladder placed against the post, his kerosene can on 
his shoulder; he carefully wipes the chimney with a clean 
rag, fills the lamp, and descends, to repeat his task all down 
the street, for not even gas has come to illuminate this 
quaint little capital. 

'^Is n't it time for a walk?'' asks a voice at the door, and 
we hasten to make ready. 

Placed at the end of the main street of the town, the 
Katunska Ulica, the hotel conmiands its whole length. Still 
farther to the south are the newly laid out park and the 
palace of the Crown Prince. The royal palace of Prince 

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CETINJE 

Nicola I. is on a street to the kft, an unpretentious, com- 
fortable-looking, large, sunny building, with a tiny balcony 
over the main entrance and a beautiful garden at the back. 
Oi^)osite is the palace of Prince Mirko, the second son, who 
married Nathalie, the daughter of Colonel Constantinovich, 
the senior representative of the Obrenovitch dynasty, 
formerly rulers of Servia. Their son, the baby Michael, is, 
owing to the childlessness of the Crown Prince, the heir 
presumptive to the crown of Montenegro. Prince Mirko is 
much liked everjrwhere. 

'^ Wonderfully gifted as a poet, a composer, and a musi- 
cian, adept in all manly sports, high-spirited and at the 
same time sunny-tempered, having, moreover, managed to 
keep his name dear of all those scandals in which his ekler 
brother has been implicated, he has always been the best 
loved child of his parents, the favorite brother of his sister, 
the Queen of Italy, and the most popular member of his 
house among his people.'' 

A little farther on in the sunny street is a fortress-like 
building called the BUjardo, the old palace, now used for a 
supreme court, a grammar school, and various administra- 
tive offices. Beyond it, at the base of the Orlov Krs, is the 
historic monastery of the Virgin, with its dignified little 
church, a square campanile, and the bmial place of 
the Petrovic dynasty On the very top of the hill, a gikied 
dome protects the tomb of Danilo II., who was assassinated 
on the quay at Cattaro in i860. He was the uncle and pre- 
decessor of the present Prince. The view from that point 
of the little dty, in the midst of green fiekb surrounded by 

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bare mountain peaks, is beautiful in the sunset and we weie 
well repaid for our climb. 

The principality of Montenegro was founded by the few 
Servians who fled to these Black Mountains when the Turks 
conquered Servia in the fourteenth century. Here they have 
maintained their independence with astonishing skill and 
courage. Every Montenegrin, be he old or young, belongs 
to the army and can be relied upon to fight for his coimtry in 
time of need. But it was only in 1878 that by the treaty of 
Berlin this principality was recognized by the Powers and 
the two seaports of Antivari and Duldgno assured to them. 
The progressive policy and accomplishments of the present 
ruler, his simplicity and good judgment, have not only made 
him dear to hb own people, but won for him the respect of 
Europe. He introduced an improved code of laws in 1888, 
and by sanctioning the new route from Dalmatia, made it 
possible and pleasant for strangers to visit this interesting 
coimtry. Only 3500 square miles in area, it contains a quar- 
ter of a million of inhabitants, and when one realizes the 
stony character of the soU, the severe climate, the conditions 
under which they labor, one caimot but admire the loyalty, 
the courage, and the kindness of this splendid mountain 
race. 

^'My brain is just as full of new impressions as it can 
possibly hold," I asserted, boldly, as we meandered home- 
ward in the twilight. ^^How grateful the darkness will bel'' 

But with the blessed light of a new day fatigue had 
dropped from me and I was eag^r as ever for novel sights 
and experiences. It was Sunday morning, and a brilliantly 

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CETINJE 

marked songster in the sycamore close to my window had 
awakened me. Between the stuccoed houses the same gayly 
attired crowd sauntered slowly, four or five abreast. But 
in the distance appeared a white charger — no mere horse 
could look so dignified nor bear his trappings with such 
noble grace. Salutes and lifted caps told of some personage, 
and I watched as he approached deliberately down the long 
avenue. He was a portly gentleman, of splendid stature, 
with white hair and iron-gray moustache. Over his coat of 
robin's-egg blue he wore a sleeveless scarlet jacket, elabor- 
ately embroidered in gold; his crimson velvet saddle cloth 
was wonderfuUy beautiful, too, but hb cap was the same 
that the subjects wore, although this was the Prince. With a 
benevolent smile he greeted his people, and passing under 
my window, enjoying his cigarette, he disappeared toward 
the mountains. 

"I*m afraid the car won't look very well to-morrow 
morning, sir," I hear in muffled accents outside my door, 
"for they 're afraid I 'U spot the clothes. But I 'U do the 
best I can." 

My curiosity is aroused* 

'^Where is the garage here?" I ask at breakfast. 

"Come and see." And through the spotless kitchen I 
am led out into a small yard hung thickly with the weekly 
wash. 

"Don't they ever take it in?" I ask the chau£feur, 
after we have imearthed the motor in its midst. 

"If they do, another set is put out right away," he an- 
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make it look very welL'^ And he regarded with dis- 
tinct disfavor his precious car. ''There are six cats in 
this yard, too, and they aO live in the automobile/' he 
drawls. 

Evidently he does not take the same rosy vkw of out-of- 
the-way places that we do. But this was, I must say, as 
near finding fault as he ever came. Resourceful and deter- 
mined, adaptable, punctual, and keen, quick to act in time 
of need, quiet and respectful, he contributed much to our 
comfort in this tour through strange lands. 

We join the sauntering groups on the broad avenue and 
admire anew the festive throng. Some of the long coats are 
bottle green, some lined with red, some have an extra jacket 
hooked to the shoulders. Many drape about them the 
long fringed struka^ a native shawl of a rich brown shade, 
touched here and there with brilliant tones, ending with ''a 
long flowing fringe of various colored wools in knots and 
tassels. This fringe swings heavily from side to side as they 
walk, nearly sweeping the groimd, and giving the wearers a 
very magnificent and stately air.'' If not needed it hangs 
from the shoulders; if it rains it is put over their heads and 
protects them perfectly; if cold it is wrapped arotmd them 
in graceful folds. The men wear their rich sashes over 
their wool coats, but the women let the coats hang free. 
We are fortunate enou^ to see one lady in the national 
costume. Her white wool skirt is made with a deep flounce, 
possibly in deference to European ideas, the long sleeveless 
cloth coat of an exquisite robin's-egg blue is worn over a thin 
white blouse with tight sleeves and trimmed with bands of 

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embroidery. A black lace veil falls from her braided hair 
and she carries a white parasol. 

One morning as we walked idly down the Katimska in 
the dazzling white li^, which reminded us of Greece, we 
saw a long line of sokliers drawn up outside the door of a 
small church. 

'^It is the service in the court ch^iel/' replied a guard 
at the palace, on being questioned. 

"Is the Prince there, too?" 

"5i, Signora^** he answered. 

"Will there be any objection to my kodaking him?" 

He shrugged hb shoulders and kept his eyes on my little 
black box as I sat upon a friendly boulder, patiently awaiting 
the completion of the service. It was but a step from 
church to palace, and a i^etty sight when the Prince appeared 
between his two daughters, walking across the square, and 
foUowed by his escort of cheers and a company of sokliers. 
Upon gaining his balcony, he turned and stood quietly 
attentive, smoking his cigarette as the men, carrying no 
arms except the inevitaUe revolver thrust through the belt, 
marched by into the garden of the palace. There was no 
music, no attempt at disfday, <»ily the regular Sunday morn- 
ing ceremonial, very charming to see. 

A handsome young fellow, moukled into his spotless 
uniform, dang^g his white kid ^oves, hurried up the steps 
as the Prince went within. 

" Do you think that was Prince Pierre ?" cried the Enthu- 
siast. 

"It might be," was the calm reply. 

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^^It certainly resembled his photographs/' responded the 
Enthusiast, ^^and I think it was." 

^^Oh, if your kodak would only take color/' exclaimed, 
for the hundredth time, the Gentle Lady. 

"//, indeed!" I answered. "When that hapi^ time 
comes, — just thinki We shall have to go all around the 
world again to get fresh pictures.' 

In the afternoon a military band marched gayly by our 
windows, plajdng strange music with agreeable skill, and 
went on into the park to give the usual Sunday concert. 
But' we had other projects. From the oki Turkish battery 
on the hill we had seen a long white road, beginning behind 
the hospital on the edge of the town and gradually ascend- 
ing a low ridge to the top, where it disappeared. 

"That must be the way to Rjeka," mused the Leader. 
"I wonder how good the road is." 

"The only way to find out is to go and see," somewhat 
mockingly replied the Enthusiast. 

So after luncheon a small carriage, drawn by three 
horses, appeared at the door and we trotted briskly through 
the short streets of the tiny dty until the long ascent began. 
We missed the steady upward motion of the automobile, 
but we had all the more leisiue to watch the si^its about us 
as we rose above the regularly built and dignified little dty. 
We passed many country people who greeted us with coiu:- 
teous salutes; the older peasants, especially, were punctil- 
iously polite, the young women shy and with downcast 
eyes. Swinging up the long hill were well-dressed dty 
folk, — this was evidently a favorite promenade when 

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more exercise was needed than the broad Eatunska 
afforded. 

At the top of the ridge, beyond the small inn, we de- 
scended to an elbow curving toward the east, and there we 
obtained a splendid view of the Lake of Scutari and the 
snow-capped Albanian Alps. The Leader's enthusiasm was 
undiminished by the surfeit of landscapes on which we had 
feasted the day before. 

^^The Lake of Scutari/' I murmured. ^^I associate it 
with tales of the Orient. It does not seem possible that 
we are actually looking down upon it. It occupies a 
neighboring cell in my memory to the Vale of Cashmere 
and Lalla Rookhl The very words Albania, Macedonia, 
mean to me romance and strange adventure.'' 

'^We could just as well have come in the automobile," 
interrupted the Leader, ''and then we could have run on 
down to Rjeka. The road looks very good." 

''Why can't we drive down ? It is only eight and a half 
miles from Cetinje, the book says." 

"Yes, but it is aooo feet below it, and think of the climb 
back! We would not be home before midnight." 

The valley immediately below us is bleak and stony and 
sterile, and as we slowly wend our way back to the tiniest 
capital in Eiuope a crescent moon hangs in the western sky, 
with Venus brilliant above it. This star and crescent is not 
our only reminder of the Turks in these parts. In their new 
museums are many trophies and flags, swords, cannon, and 
pistols, taken from their hereditary foes by the small Monte- 
negrin army. One native gun is of enormous length and b 

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sakl, in the hands <A a famous hero, to have held at bay 
three hundred Turks. Three times even within the last cen- 
tury have the Turks invaded this '^troublesome country/' 
but after their last severe defeat at Grahovo, in 1858, they 
ceased to motest the Montenegrins. 



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BACK INTO DALBfATU 

YT was the most beautiful, dear, crisp morning when we 
left the attractive little capital of Montenegro and 
started on our long drive back over the Black Mountains 
into Dahnatia. The streets were filled with the same gay 
throng. Indeed, by half-past five there were ahready four 
groups of men walking up and down in heavy overcoats, 
although the sun was sparkling, and as we left the hotel 
door we caught a g^pse of the Prince on his white charger, 
getting his morning ezerdse. 

The snowy heights of Lov&n rose straight before us at 
the end of the road, as if to prevent our passage. Soon 
after we began our winding ascent the mortuary chapel of 
Prince Peter n. could be plainly seen in the midst of glitter- 
ing fiekis on its summit Near the guard house at Krstac, 
from wbae the ascent of Lovcen is often made, we encoun- 
tered a shejdierd in the raggedest outfit I have ever seen 
hoki together, but he swung a silver-handled umbrella as he 
walked akmg, and through his sash was thrust a revolver <A 
beautiful workmanship. 

The k)ops seemed' even steeper than we remembered 
them and the turns shorter. When it was necessary to back 
to get around, and there happened to be no parapet to the 
road and the distance down was many hundred feet of 
sheer rock, our sensations were grewsomel But we had 
gained the top of Krivacko Zdrjeb in thirty-nine minutes 

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from the hotel, and looking down the long winding on the 
other side, discovered the daily diligence before us. 

^^They must have started about five o'clock, I should 
think/' remarked Madame Content, ^^and what time do 
you suppose they get to Cattaro?'' 

'^Easfly enough for Itmcheon.'' 

**l am thankful we could get the motor across/' she 
answered, and sank back with new appreciation of her bless- 
ings, as we slid by the dusty diligence and saw Njegus in the 
rocky basin below. 

When we stopped at the hotel to procure a pictiuie of the 
Prince's birthplace, we discovered that one of oiu: extra tins 
of gasoline, taken in case of need, had become loosened by 
the tremendous jolting and had slipped somewhere down the 
mountain-side. 

'^ I do hope some one will find it," conmiented the Leader, 
looking back searchingly along the bare highway. ^^ Won't 
there be a celebration when a twelve-litre tin of gasoline is 
picked up among the boulders?" And he thought of the 
ragged shepherd with his silver heirlooms. 

Across the stony valley we rolled, and in seven min- 
utes we were on the top of the second pass, with again the 
wonderful prospect of the Bocche and mountains surround- 
ing it. The marvellous beauty of this indescribable scene 
impressed us anew. The shadows of the morning seemed 
to give an entirely different impression from the flat noon- 
light in which we had seen it. Beyond the Krstac grotto 
the extraordinary highway lay in apparently careless fokls 
on the side of the bare mountain. Twenty-six different 



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levels we could clearly count before it was lost in the ver- 
dant valley back of Cattaro. We left Montenegro behind 
us and all our senses were absorbed by the new phases of 
the route. 

The Bay of Traste beyond the green Zupa valley came 
nearer. And now at almost every turn we were forced to 
back. What confidence it implies in your chauffeur and 
your car when you can sit calmly poised on the outer edge 
of awful abysses waiting for the ri^t lever to be touched, 
which means a gentle impulse forward around the short 
curve! It is never wise to think of what would surely hap- 
pen if the wrong lever were puUedl 

G)asting quietly down the steep incline with the reas- 
suring brake to control our flight, the Gulf of Cattaro, fringed 
with the white houses and tiny enclosed harbors of hapi^ 
sailors, stood forth sharply in the brilliant sunshine. The 
yeUow green tufts of the bush spurge (Euphorbia hi^landu- 
losa) were a distinctive featiure of these rock-strewn slopes, 
the spiny-toothed eryngiums and thistles sprang from mass- 
es of fine dibriSf and here in rank abundance grew the 
curious plant known as ^^ Christ's thorn'' (PaUurus acetalus), 
for it is supposed to be the one of which the crown of 
thorns was made. 

We slipped by the water fountain at the wayside, by the 
sheer rock of Fort Gorazda, by the sentinels at Fort Trinitk, 
and descended to the green valley before the caravan had 
formed. Then bowling merrily along the smooth, level 
avenue, by Perzagno and the two Stolivos, we came to where 
Perasto, on the opposite shore, with its pointed campanile, 

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its overshadowing precipice^ and its commanding fortifica- 
tionsy was perfectly reflected in the glassy water. 

With a farewell glance at the Gulf of Cattaro, at the 
cypresses and straight, gray walls of San Giorgio and her 
sister islet ^^ floating like the flat leaves of the water-lily on 
the surface of the bay/' we tinned into the narrow straits 
of Le Catene and pulled up on the tiny quay at Lepetane. 
It was not yet ten o'clock and we had an hoiu: to wait. Sit- 
ting under the spreading mulberry-trees, in the soft air 
away from the heat of the sun, we could not choose a quieter, 
lovelier spot. 

^^May I change my kodak spool in here ?" I asked, as I 
looked in at an c^n door of a plain stone house adjoining 
the quay. I had seen that there was another door directly 
opposite, which served to light the dark interior. A counter 
ran across one side, with bottles and boxes of various kinds 
displayed on shelves to the ceiling. Behind the cotmter a 
little dried-up, sweet-faced woman looked mystified. I sat 
down in one of the chairs before the tables on the other side 
of the shop and began my work. As soon as she understood 
that she had nothing to fiunish in the way of photograjM: 
material she was relieved and most hospitable. 

''Prego, Signora^^* she continually interpolated. I 
racked my brain and searched the shelves for something 
I could buy. 

"Have you any cartoUne?^^ 

'^ Illustrate?^' And such a medley of tinsel and actresses 
as she produced! 

" But of Lepetane ? The Bocche ?" 

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*^N(m (fiy^ she cheerfully remarked. ''It is too small 
a villa^." 

''Wouldn't Madame like to rest her while waiting?*' 
And a sister conducted us up a steep, bare, dean little stair- 
way to a spotless room, where bunches of lilacs in vases 
on the stand captured our hearts. She closed the small 
windows and set forth chairs, but we had caught a glimpse 
of a garden on this level and looked out so eagerly that there, 
too, we were allowed to wander. The turnips and lettuce, 
the roses and lilacs, all grew in friendly company; a tiny 
place with paths carefully marked by stcmes, a screened 
yard for the chickens, about as big as a dining-room table, 
and beyond the stone waU the blue waters of the Bocche, 
with snowy mountains still farther away. The friendly 
soul searched the garden for the best rose and jdaced a 
crimson waU flower in the bunch of lilacs with which she 
presented us. These two gentle sisters were ready to do 
for us whatever they coukl; they did not intrude, but were 
(dainly interested in our curious doings. 

The huge mulberries shading the tiny port; the pink 
roses hanging over the creamy st(Hie walk in lavish pro- 
fusion; the steep paths of steps strai^t up the hill to other 
streets and houses perched among the olive orchards; an 
occasional kerchiefed damsel with copper jar owning after 
water to the well; a ferryman calling in musical cadence 
from his boat; a passing black craft, km, with draped saO, 
propelled by standing men at bng oars; — what pkrtures 
(me could get! But plainly, in three languages — in Ger- 
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on a conspicuous pole. ^'No photographing about the 
Bocche." 

After an hour of impatient contemplation of this sign- 
post, a soldier appeared who either just happened along or 
was sent to watch my poor little innocent box. I inunedi- 
ately took advantage of the opportxmity and asked him to 
kindly tell me to whom I must apply to secure permission 
to kodak our motor standing helpless before that narrow 
strait. I thought that opened negotiations very diplomat- 
ically. He looked perfectly blank. He knew no Italian. 
Again my good friend, the mistress of the shop, came to my 
aid and translated into Slavic my request. The officer in 
charge was away. As the good dame addressed him most 
respectfully as ^'Sergeant" I asked her to see if he thought 
there would be any objections to my pictures. He assured 
her that if the Madame kept her camera ^'pointed to the 
earth" it would be all right, but as to the heights, '^Nay, 
nay." 

I cannot see now why those green and gray hillsides 
should be forbidden to me — the modem forts all look so 
exactly alike. However, I respected his prejudices and 
confined my attention to the ^^earth." 

A demure little girl of about eleven, dressed in black and 
with neatly braided hair and long downcast lashes, gathered 
courage to approach the stranded visitors, and I risked my 
useful Slavic sentence, with a smile. ^^Kako se zave ovaf^^ 
pointing to herself. (How do they call that? or, What is 
the name of that ?) ^thout hesitation she answered ^^ Agus- 
Uiy** and I was lost in admiration of her understanding. 

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Now my linguistic abilitfes were reduced to naug^ I knew 
no other phrase, but — a happy thought struck me. Point- 
ing to a green-domed church on the hill above a lighthouse 
on the opposite shore, I repeated my useful phrase. Again 
an answer — "/a5»ca" — and as that was the word I ex- 
pected I recognized it with delight. 

Probably I should have gone on indefinitely indicating 
different features of the landscape had not a tug just then 
appeared from the VaUone of Risano and approached our 
dock, but alasl it steamed by us. '^Is it going for the 
barge?'' We watch it until, instead of proceeding toward 
Castelnuovo, it turns and skirts the south shore of Teodo 
Bay. Before very long it reappears, however, towing the 
expected barge, and we welcome effusively the courteous 
captain and his efficient crew This time they have 
procured a larger sort of a tank barge with a flat deck 
which comes even with the dock, so that our car goes on 
without the least difficulty. Under an awning on the 
accompanying tug, seats are arranged for us and as we 
steam away I look back at the shady quay and the gray 
stone house beside it. Over the door is a sign: ''Rachella 
Marchesini, Prodaja, Jestvina Rukotvorine L vina." And 
from a half-open upper window^ a sweet-faced old woman 
is leaning, gayly waving **Buan Viaggio.^^ 

We part from our government aid on the quay at Kam- 
enari with mutual expressions of satisfaction and meet with 
no further adventures as we speed by fiekb of yeUow daisies 
and gardens of pink valerian, towards the ^'Grttnen Strand*' 
at Zelenika. More delicious Hungarian cooking awaits 

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us theie and after lunchecm and a short rest we leave for 
Ragusa. 

The feariess blue-backed swaUows rest quietly on the 
vmies as we whiz under them, the bells of Santa Savina 
sound the quarter-hour far in the distance. Through the 
entrance to the Bocche a two-masted scho(mer is fleeing 
from the rising wrath of the Adriatic* The round tower 
of Fort Spagnuok) appears above ivy bastions and we stop 
at Castelnuovo in order that our Leader may call upon the 
Austrian officials to thank them for their courtesy in facili- 
tating our Montenegrin trip. 

''It 's pretty warm, but let 's just walk up to that little 
tower — won't you?" as the Gentle Lady hesitated, and we 
climbed the stone-paved street looking down through narrow 
openings to the blue waters of the Bocche far below. Patient 
little donkeys toiled up the steep incline laden with heavy 
bags. To my surprise they did not pause at the entrance 
of a shop, but calmly walked up the steps and in at the open 
door. Occasionally they needed some assistance to get 
through, as the saddle-bags were stu£Eed and bulky. I 
wanted to foUow them to see whether or not they climbed 
to the higher stories as I am very sure they could. 

The sun was dazzling. ''I must find a jiace to change 
my kodak spool,'' exclaimed the Enthusiast. An open 
archway led by shallow paved steps to a small court, where 
a carpenter's shop disclosed a stcxre of shavings. I peered 
within. 

''Might I arrange my camera here? It is necessary to 
get out of the light." 

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''But yes/' exclaimed the man, deli^itedly, and rushed 
for a damp cloth, with which, in a trice, he wiped off one 
end of a long table and watched me intently as I began my 
accustomed task. 

"From Trieste?'' he muttered. 

"No, from America," I answered. 

''Ah, indeed. I have a son in America," was his 
proud response. 

"Have you? And whereabouts in America mig^t he 
be?" 

"In Buenos Ayres," he answered. 

" Oh, America del Sud — I am from America del Nord." 

This made little impression, I could see. America was 
America — a far country across the sea — why make 
invidious distinctions? 

"And how long has your son been there ?" 

"A year." 

"And does he like it?' 

"Very much." 

"It must be different from here." 

"Madame likes it here?" 

"Very much indeed. The Bocche is enchanting and 
Cetinje — ! We left Cetinje this morning after seven o'dock 
[It is now about three.] What a wonderful drive down the 
mountain!" 

The man was looking at me more intently. I am sure 
he did not hear my enthusiastic remari:. There was no 
steamer that day, and to drive from Cetinje meant eleven 
hours without stopping. 

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^^Yes/' I went on, enjojdng his speaking countenance, 
but apparently occupied with my camera, ^^and we had to 
wait two hours at the ferry for the boat — otherwise — " 

^'She would have been here two hours agp, only she had 
to wait for the ferry/' mechanically repeated the man to 
his assistant, who had joined him — an apprentice, appar- 
ently. And they both fixed me with a solemn gaze. 

^^Oh, and we were an hour and a half at Zelenika for 
limcheon," I went on, casually. 

''An hour and a half," he whispered, and edgsd away a 
little, with the shock of it all, trying to make up his mind 
what kind of a lunatic had strayed into his establishment. 

''In an automobile one can get over a great deal of 
ground, you see.'' This explanation so relieved his mind 
that he unconsciously relaxed and became the attentive 
host again. As I thanked him at parting he was all smfles 
and ^^KUss die Hand,^* and when we whirled away from 
Castebiuovo some time after, he stood bareheaded by the 
roadside and waved us a respectful salutation. How kindly 
the people are! With what joy they serve one! 

It was very hot. Our poor engine gasped for breath 
before we reached the top of the ridge separating the Suto- 
rina from the Val Canali, but our friend, the brook, rippling 
down the stony slope, offered her services for our relief. 
The radiator tank was emptied and refilled, an extra pailful 
carried along, and merrily we sailed above the silver sea, the 
andent Epidaurus, the cascades and the mill of Breno, 
Lacroma's wooded isle and Orsola's gray crags, untfl the 
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ever neaier and neaier, and as we dismounted from the motor 
at the hotel door we realized that our tour to Montenegro, 
instead of being a doubtful future experiment, had now 
become one of our most unusual, delightful, and thrilling 
experiences. 



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CHAPTER XXI 

ENTERING THE HERZEGOVINA — RAGUSA TO GACKO 
VIA TREBINJE 

n AGUSA means to me purple iris and wistaria against 
old ivory walls; black rocks where sea-green water 
breaks in a million sparkles; air sweet with gorse and pine; 
and a moving crowd in brilliant national costumes! Eight 
goklen days in all we ling^ there, — wandering up the 
wooded slopes of Lapad and Lacroma, or climbing the 
rough paths of Monte Sergio, where wild flowers in new and 
tantaliring variety spring &om between the rocks, saunter* 
ing through the sunlit streets of this southern city where 
Slav and Latin meet. I dare not think that this may be 
our last visit to the fair Dalmatian city, or never could I 
leave it with so light a heart on this gay and doudless morn- 
ing when we set out for the Herzegovina. 

Around the oM Minceta Tower and the castle at the port; 
passing many women with their white-covered baskets on 
their heads; throu^ sloping acres of wild iris and aloe, pop- 
pies and the yellow gorse; above the hazy sea we continue 
our joumeyings. We glance at San Giacomo and take a last 
look at Ragusa as we round a promontory; then after follow- 
ing the lovely curves of the Val d'Orsola, near a small settle- 
ment known as Dubac, we turn to the left on our way to 
Ttebinje. Below us, in our curving ascent, the Val di Breno 
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surely be the loveliest time of the year^ with all the varying 
shades of green fnxa cypresses to the new grain. A shel- 
tered vale, indeed, protected from the northern winds where 
the sun pours down with fervid heat. 

We are ^ad to reach the mountain top and the little 
group of houses on the Hensegovinian frontier, known as 
Ivanica. Here a breeze is blowing and a woman, wearing 
the tiny red cap with dila{Hdated white veil over it, is 
grinding coffee in a long brass qdinder, which she twiris 
as she stares at us. Only Sbivic characters are to be 
seen on all signs. The road is fine; and as we put on 
our coats we turn back for a last kx^ at the Adriatk, 
which during so many weeks has been our oxistant com- 
panicxL The country does not differ materially from that 
of ui^per Dalmatia, — rocks and junipers, fiekis of grain, 
some young trees, but no yeUow gorse. As we enter the 
defile of Drijen, two oki kaidas, or Turkish watch towers, 
ai^iear on the hilltops, and my Cetinje songster, with others 
of his kind, flits by us. Suddenly I look up and the rocky 
aspect has disappeared, oaks and elms abound with many 
yellbw-flowering bushes, whose locust-like racemes stand 
ui»g^. Isitakindof laurustinus? A crested lark alig^ 
on the ground, nearby. Gradually the rocks enclose 
us again; hills rise on either skie and mountain peaks 
beyond crowned by the snows of Montenegro. A 
beautiful green stream is seen bebw us, whkh we soon 
cross. 

''What did you say its name was?'' I ask. 

''Watt — I will write it,'' he calls back, after vainly 

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trying to make me understand; and soon he hands me a slip 
of paper. '* The Trebishjica or Tribinjcica." 

^'No wonder I did not catch it/' I remark^ somewhat 
wearily. ^^I am going to call it the Ttebinje River." 

A ciirk)us round fort loop-holed for musket-fiie stands 
at each end of the bridge and the river twists in serpentine 
curves through the richly cultivated valley, fifere vineyards 
as well as rice and tobacco flourish, but the surroimding 
mountains are bleak and bare. Even in the dog-days, when 
the heat is intense, the snow lingers in the crevices of a 
neighboring crater, so near that the natives bring it down, 
at night, to cool their favc»ite drinks. 

Ttebinje is divided into two parts. The old town is 
quaint and curious, and there is a charming bit of moat, 
where moss-grown walls are reflected in still waters. The 
new town outside is modem and clean. But the children — 
particularly the little girls! It was my first ^impse of the 
female Turkish costume and all I could think of was a swarm 
of butterflies as, turning a comer, a group of some twenty 
wee maidens cau^ sight of my black box and fled in all 
directions — getting behind every available object and peer- 
ing from around dark comers. They were far too nimble 
for me in my astonishment at their objection to the camera. 
Such brilliancy of color! The short waists and baggy 
trousers, the kerchiefs or round caps, were too quaint for 
words ! How I longed to argue with them, to persuade them 
to pose just once, but that was hopeless! I must remember 
that the Herzegovina and Bosnia were Turkish territory 
until 1878 and althou^ now under the administration 

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of Austria, still the Moslem traditions are carefully 
respected.* 

To any one who has been at Cairo or Constantinople, 
the bazaar at Trebin je is but a poor affair and the mosques 
indifferent; althou^ minarets, when used for the musical 
call to prayer, always produce a pleasing impression. The 
hotel is fairly comfortable and the restaurant so popular 
that when the numerous officers are at table there is little 
room for mere casual guests. 

''Where can we leave the motor?'' asks the Leadcfr. 
He has long ago outgrown the habit of asking for a garage. 

''Oh, in that little garden. There is a fence about it 
and I wiU have a num to watch it while the chaufifeur 
eats his lunch." 

It is quite evident that we are not in Dalmatia, where the 
car has stood at the door, day and ni^, immolested. Our 
anxiety leads us to visit it as it stands in state under the 
shady trees, and we find a red-fezzed native solemnly walk- 
ing around it, with a stout stick, which he brandishes over 
the heads of the small boys when their curiosity leads them 
too near. His task is no sinecure, either, as the youngsters 
are numerous and agile. 

As we leave Trebinje, a company of sokiiers marching 
in the road parts and we have the novel sensation of riding 
between ranks of armed meni There are soldiers every- 
where and forts on all the hei^its. The macadamized road 
from Ttebinje to Gacko, instead of following closely the 

*T1iif was In May* 1908. In the following October these two provinces were 
tenuUlj snneird and became an integral part oC the Auitro-Hangarian Empire. 

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waterway in the valleys, climbs among the foot-hills keeping 
near the forts slong the frontier and is maintained in fine 
condition. When one sees the Turkish mule tracks, formerly 
the only means of communication in the mountains, one ap- 
preciates what Austria has done in her thirty years' control 
of Bosnia and the Herzegovina in making these excellent 
roads throu^iout the country. The wind is in the south 
and the day is very warm as we climb slowly ak>ng the 
Karst, toward our destination for the night, Gacko. We 
have not been able to find any one who has been in Gacko, 
nor does the guide-book give us much encouragement; but 
the leader inns his faith to a feUow motorist, who has as- 
sured him that there is a government inn there, entirely 
possible. 

Just beyond a guard-house cm a hiUtop, a woman, spin- 
ning, stands spellbound as we pass, erect as a young Greek 
goddess, the wind bk>wing her Uack lambVwool coat back 
from her embroidered apron. As k>ng as we can see her, 
she stands motionless. 

'' Almost the ^ctory of Samothrace, isn't she?'' com- 
ments my companion. 

A group of shepherdesses among the rocks seem to us 
very much dressed up, tending their flock of goats or sheep 
or cattle. The dariL blue skirt, reaching just below the knee, 
is trimmed with bands of red, the sleeveless l<Hig white coat 
goes over a blue long-sleeved waist and the small red cap 
has a white kerchief {unned over it, while a red-tasselled flat 
pouch is borne on the arm. An okler woman is draped in a 
brown siruka. An Othello stalks by in gorgeous raiment; 

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his red velvet jacket embroidered with gold, and the flower 
in his turban, making an effective picture. 

After a particularly trying 'hip'' in the midst of our undu- 
lating progress, we stop to beg for water from a barrel by 
the wayside. For water is a valuable commodity in this 
barren desert and every drop is hi^y treasured. 

''Is n't there any level country at all ?" asks the chauffeur, 
in the intervals of changing speed and applying the brakes. 

"No, it is all mountains," quietly assures the Leader; 
and we continue going down and up again, meeting more 
gorgeously attired gentlemen ambling along on donkeys. 
Huge horses, sjdendid in brass and tasselled harness and 
drawing loads of supplies to the military encampments, pass 
us. We descend to cross a three-arched stone bridge over 
the Trebinjcica River and rise to new heists at Mosko. 
From the low doorways of the tiny settlement pour the 
picturesque inhabitants, men, women, and children. 

"The source of the Ttebinjcica is beneath that moun- 
tain wall," points the Leader; as we pass Neu-Bilek and 
are confronted anew with the striking imperial initials, 
"F. J. I.," some ten feet long, outlined in white stones upon 
the mountain sbpe. The lilacs and fruit-trees are in bloom 
here in this oasis watered by the river. 

Taking advantage of a particularly smooth bit, we are 
fl]ring along the highway when — bangi A tire has burst. 
Of course, no one of us rejoices when we lose a tire, but if 
it must occur, no place could be more propitious than in 
this town of BOek, some ei^iteen mOes from Ttebinje and 
the only {dace of any size untfl we reach the plain of Gacko. 

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A group of natives gather in silent awe and curiosity to 
watch the chauffeur repair the damage. They form a 
brilliant picture in their gay costumes, against the gray stone 
walls. Only one adventurous little girl steals, silently, 
dose to the huge chauffeur; while from a neighboring bal- 
cony a woman leans for information and a gay retort. A 
Turkish house, with overhanging eaves, stands at the comer 
where our hi^way leads and higher up, above some tur- 
baned graves, a mosque with tall white minaret ai^)ears. 
Near us, before a high stone wall, a wonum turns a squeaky 
wheel, filling her shiny cans with water from the village 
well, and every animal that passes stops to get a cooling 
draught before he wanders on again. 

While the Leader goes to the telegraph office to wire 
Trieste for another ture to meet us farther on, we two seek 
further diversion. 

''Oh, do come here!'' calls my companion, in an excited 
whisper, as I turn my film for a fresh exposure, and follow- 
ing her fixed gaze, I see striding up the hiU toward us a 
wonderfully picturesque couple. He, of course, marches 
ahead, brave in his holiday attire, leading his trusty moun- 
tain horse loaded with well-filled saddle-bags. But the coy 
young mountain maid, — how truly splendid her appearance ! 

''Oh! Do you suppose it's a bride?" asks Madame 
Content ; but I am too busy trying to get a picture to answer, 
for the coimtenance of the man is stem and forbidding. He 
is no Turk, but he may have prejudices against the camera. 
She may be from Albania, possibly, for she wears over her 
wool skirt and embroidered apron a long red velvet sleeve- 

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THEY DISAPPEAR DOWX THE LONG ROAD 



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less coat trimmed heavfly with gdd; her open jacket has 
great silver knobs, as big as sleigh-bells, down both sides 
of the frcmt and lace ruffles at the wrist; a rich gold chain is 
around her neck and from her cap hang coins and pendant 
jewels; her belt buckles are enormous and of beautiful 
workmanship; on her fingers are silver rings and over a 
white head-kerchief 9 is draped a scarlet bashiUk with tassel- 
led fringe. She walks with the easy pace of the mountain- 
eer and her pony foUows with slackened rein. They, too, 
stop at the weU for refreshment and I long for an inter 
preter. The young woman does not seem averse to our 
acquaintance, if friendly smiles mean anjrthing; but the 
dark-skinned man, be he husband or father, hurries her 
away, and in an incredibly short time they disappear down 
the lox^ road. 

The chauffeur is now putting away the air pump, which 
is our signal for adjustment of veils and of dust coats. We 
fairly whiz across a fertile, blossoming valley, and as we 
climb the other side get a charming view of Bilek, under 
the terraced hillside crowned by her fort. A fawn-colored 
'^hooded crow," with black head and wings, flies fearlessly 
by, and from a passing carriage two Turkish women peer 
at us behind their veils. 

There are no kilometer posts but sometimes numbers 
painted on the rocks, whether distances or military marks 
we fail to discover. The road b exceUent and we go twist- 
ing up and down the low hills. At our right a black cloud 
is forming, and from it sharp lightning at intervals denotes 
a storm. 

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''Yes, that is our direction/' pladdly answers the Leader, 
to our anxious inquiries. ''Will you have the top up?'' 

"Oh, not yet," we answer in our usual chorus. "This 
fresh aur is so delightful." 

We pass many flocks of sheep and goats and some small 
herds of cattle guarded by the brightly gowned Herzegovin- 
ian peasants. 

"Thirty kilometers more to Gacko," calls back the 
Leader, and a cuckoo utters his plaintive note. 

"Isn't that a sign of rain?" asks Madame G)ntent. 

"I 'm afraid it is — or snow," responds the Leader, for 
very near us the snow appears and white fiekls surround us. 
This is the top of the pass, he informs us, — Tro^v (4340 
feet), and we put up the hood just in time to escape big drops 
of rain. Luckily, only the edge of the heavy shower reaches 
us so that we enjoy the splendid panorama of the Monte- 
negrin Alps rising on our right, white with the freshly fallen 
snow. Into a defile of ctuious ridged rock we descend, — 
where green hellebore and yellow orchids abound, — then 
through a cultivated valley, watered by a mountain torrent, 
where the hawthorn hedges are white with blossoms. 

We discern the fort of Cemica on our left and follow 
the rippling brook up into the recesses of the mountains again. 
It rains when we have gained the crest, but not enough to 
prevent our seeing the flat Gacko plain, or ^;>, across which 
we are soon bowling; a rockless valley, broad and undivided 
by walls or hedges. Waterways intersect, with locks for 
controlling the flow, and on this fertile floor the grain is 
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RAGUSA TO GACKO 

ing, and in stiU others scattering the seed. The vesper spar- 
rows foUow in great flocks and a brilliant yellow bird, as 
large as a robin, but with dark wings, ehides my persistent 
glass. Is it the gdden ori<rie? Over the Musiot River, 
and passing the branch road to Avtovac, we reach Gacko 
and its government inn. 



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CHAPTER XXn 
GACKO TO MOSTAR — SOURCE OF THE BUNA 

A COLD rain is fallings the snow on the neighboring 

mountains comes down very near us. We are ^ad 

of our heaviest wraps and hesitate to remove them even in 

the cheerless shelter of the inn, for Gacko is three thousand, 

two hundred feet above the sea. 

Whoever planned this primitive hostelry had no nose, I 
am sure. As soon as we enter the large front room, with a 
table on one side evidently used for eating, we know that 
onions have been cooking for some time ; in the square stair- 
case weU the scent becomes overpowering, and no wonder, 
— for the kitchen opens directly beneath! If it has another 
outlet, this is the one most used, and into each chamber 
penetrates the odor with a strength and a persistence worthy 
of a better cause. The inn seems to float in a mild, hazy 
atmosphere of garlic ! Of course, the occupants do not per- 
ceive it, accustomed as they are to its continuance, but fresh 
from the delicious ozone of the heights, we nearly suffocate. 
The Leader dares not sympathize with us, for there is no 
other place to go. We stiunble up the stairway in our dark 
veils; and at the top, I being first, stop in dismay; for, 
stretched entirely across the landing, lies a huge hound. 
"She won't trouble you!" calls out a voice from bebw; and 
after lazy hesitation, Madame, the dog, consents to move 
along a little to let us pass. 

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The rooms marked **Fremden Zimmer^^ over each door 
are clean, but certainly not luxurious, as the German guide- 
book plainly said. The windows are small and few, the 
glass of the poorest, and the woodwork of the cheapest. 
The floor boards are guiltless of paint or stain, about ten 
inches wide, not too closely set; there b a tiny, worn rug 
by each bed, and those beds are of iron — to my relief. On 
each is laid a red cotton quilt, neither long enou^ nor wide 
enough to tuck in, and the sheets match the quilt in size, 
while the pillows are stuffed with cotton; but there are two 
mattresses and the woven wire has not lost its qmng. Each 
room boasts a stove, but no fire. 

Wondering what we will get for dinner besides onions, 
I think hopefully of the cracker box and the prune bottle 
safely tucked away in the automobile. In due time we are 
conducted to a not over*clean table in the inner room, evi- 
dently the banquet-hall (?); and shortly a maid in a saOor 
blouse of fancy red and white stripe, cut very low in the neck, 
a dark cloth skirt and an apology for an apron, bursts into 
the room. 

^^KUss die Hand^ gleich^ bitte sckOnj^ she explodes, and 
departs again. 

Evidently custom is brisk. We wait patiently. After 
a bng time, she reappears with two plates of Hamburg steak 
and potatoes, and two of lettuce. 

^^ Bitte schSHj^^ she apologizes, as she disappears through 
the open door. Our stock of exclamations seem inadequate 
to this demand upon them, and we remain gravely silent, 
contemplating the feast before us. 

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^'I choose the kttuce, please/' I say, after a sli^t pause, 
for each one of us is determined not to be the first to find 
fault. In travelling through strange countries this is an 
excellent rule to follow: we had decided upon that in the 
beginning, but not having had any occasion for its use, we 
had almost forgotten our resolve. 

''Perhaps we could have some beer,'' cheerfully remarks 
the Leader, attacking with a good semUance of »st his 
overflowing plate. The beer is brouj^ and is excellent. 

'^You shouki leam to eat cmkxis," asserts Madame 
G)ntent, ''this steak isn't so bad." 

At the other skie of the hall is the ''Casino," at feast 
that is what the sign over the door says. The Leader goes 
in to see it, and reports two men {laying billiards, three 
women and two babies listening to a mechanical musical 
instrument. 

"Probably if you lived in Gacko, that would be sufficient 
to give you an evening's amusement, too," rejdies Madame 
G)ntent, at the report of her liege terd. 

As we go upstairs a voice from the dark depths of the 
kitchen shouts: ''KUss die Hand! Guten Nachtr And 
we at least can respond to that '*Guten Nachtt^^ 

When I c^n my blinds in the morning it is rarely that 
a new picttue fails to greet me, aiKi Gacko is no exception. 

The snowy motmtains and blue sky aiKi green valley are 
boimd together by the glorious arc of a rainbow. The buds 
are just beginning to swell (m the forest trees before my win- 
dow, but in the garden opposite the currants are in blossom. 

Some one is coming across the plain, — b it man or 

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woman mufited against the morning's chill? Evidently a 
woman, — for as she approaches town she draws her white 
head-covering closer to shield her face while the teng black 
cloak reveals bright blue Turkish trousers. As she passes 
I see an oblong piece of black ckth trimmed with dull 
embroidery hanging down her back. Has she come in to 
see the parade of the Austrian Automobile Chibi which, 
sixteen strong, is hurrying over the mountains from Mostar 
to-day? They are to stop here for lunchecm before going 
on to Ragusa. Will it be Hamburg steak and onions, 
I wonder? 

Great is the excitement of the pc^mlace waiting their 
arrival. The town proper of Gacko lies perhaps a quarter 
of a mOe up the hiU behind the hotel, and at least one-half 
of the inhabitants have come down even at this early hour 
to secure good vantage points on the post road. The 
little girls are a repetition of those at Trebinje, mHy more 
ragged and dirty, and less shy. Leather stnps hokl the 
wooden sandals on their bare feet; full cottcm trousers, 
gathered at the ankles; a short waist, always of another 
material, but equally bright; a kerchief over the head; — 
the costume might be suitable for the Bosphorus or the 
Levant, but must be an inadequate protection in this 
frosty mountain air. 

Our morning meal, kx>ked forward to with doubt and 
i4)prehension, turns out even worse than we have antici- 
pated. The co£fee — save the mark — served in tall glasses 
is lukewarm; the bread, heavy and sour; the butter, impos- 
sible! The eggs are merely warmed through, and the 

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spoons far too laig? to enter the shells. I look at the tooth- 
picks hesitatin^y; at another village we have seen them 
used for such purposes — can I do it ? There is no other 
way but to foUow the custom of the coimtry; salted and 
stirred with this implement, the egg is made palatable and 
drunk! 

It is amusmg to hear the light tone adopted by the party 
when we come together after the morning meal. No ref- 
erence is made to personal experiences, but a unanimous 
verdict is rendered for an early start. 

'^I would like, if possible, to g^t by the narrowest part of 
the road before meeting the Austrian cars," explains the 
Leader; and we accept this excuse without question, though 
smiles hirk in our Yankee sleeves. '^We will have to be 
careful and run slowly, as they will not be expecting to 
meet a motor, and the turns are sharp." 

Just then a man on a white horse gallops aroimd the 
comer shouting violently, and scarcely has he drawn up by 
the roadside, when a gasoline runabout appears in the dis- 
tance and dashes into the village. It seems that men are 
stationed on the heights for miles along the way who either 
halloo or wave a blue flag, thus signalling the coming of an 
automobile, and the news so carried is repeated by the gal- 
lant horseman to the town. We do not wait to exchange 
courtesies, but take advantage of the distracted attention of 
the populace to get away. Many women are squatting on 
boulders without the town, their faces covered to the eyes. 
Oxen and donkeys are relegated to the fiekls. We have a 
clear road. The men salute us politely as we wind through 

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a narrow pass, and one drops his blue flag in amazement at 
seeing us approach from the wrong direction. 

Passing a wretched Mohammedan cemetery — not even 
enclosed and with the headstones at all an^es, — we cross 
the Zalomska and from an adjoining hilltop a whole com- 
pany of soldiers rush down to look at us. It is after we have 
gpne through the narrowest part of the defile, fuUy half an 
hour after leaving Gacko, and just beyond Fojnica that we 
meet the second car of the Austrian Automobile Club, a 
large open motor from whose depths a begog^ed enthusiast 
waves his hat in exuberance of friendly greeting. Back and 
forth across the Zalomska the exceUent road ag-zags in 
and out between high limestone hills, occasionally relieved 
by groves of pollarded oaks on curious rock strata. The 
green tufts of the hellebore denote the sterile character of 
the region, yet from the clififs four streams pour their waters 
into the Zalomska's flood. Here we meet four more cars in 
quick succession. 

'^It is a comfort to see the kilometer posts again," remarks 
the Gentle Lady; ^4t seems so much more like the right 
road.'' A huge snow moimtain appears just before we 
emerge from the gorge into a plain, from which the towers 
of Nevesinje rise on the hillside. 

"That snow mountain is Velez," says the Leader. "How 
many have passed now?" as another automobfle rolls by us. 

"That is the seventh," — and in the town of Nevesinje 
we encounter the ei^ith. 

"We have only five himdred feet altogether to ascend 
to-day," the Leader said, when we left Gacko, but no sign 

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of any climbing have I perceived until we reach Nevesinje 
and begin the long loop leading over the Grabok Saddle. 
From the top (3640 feet) we get a magnificent view over 
the plain, the mow-topped moimtains and the town of Neves- 
inje with its steep streets, its conspicuous barracks, its roofe 
of tile or shining tin, its minaret, and white spire holding 
aloft the Holy Cross- Here we pass six cars in a line, one oi 
them of American make. The ^'Saddle" is charming, 
winding through a world of birches under mossy rocka* and 
coasting down a shady ^n, but no water drips from the 
gray boulders into the gravelly bed. 

Many birds hover over our heads and sing from the tree- 
.tops as we climb again and from the sunmiit of another 
height discover the Narenta valley Ijring half in shadow 
thirty-five hundred feet below usi Soon after a shimmering 
lake sparkles in the far distance; and at the edge of a 
widening view the city of Mostar appears. The flat-topped 
hills of Himi surroimd us and at the right towers the snowy 
Podvelez. 

The last car, the seventeenth, we meet before we come 
to a point in the road where the view into the valley is 
stupendous! In loops and twists the road coils down the 
mountain side; the castle of Stjepangrad on its lofty perch, 
six hundred feet above the plain, is yet far below; but 
gradually the conformation of the lower hills assumes its 
proper proportions and that same ruined castle on the 
" torn bare peak ** now rises above us. Vines are already 
in leaf and poppies in blossom, and the air is warm and 
fragrant in this fertile Narenta valley. ^'That is a fifteenth 

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century castk/' remarks the Leader, tximing around in his 
seat, ''and bekmged to that same Duke Stjepan, who lived 
at Castehiuovo, you remember. His last exploit was to run 
away with his son's wife, but he was caught and kept in 
prison here untfl he died/' 

We stop outside the village of Blagaj, — pronounced 
Bkckeye with the K like a hard G, — to visit the source of 
the Buna. Our car is immediately surrounded, but where 
the people come from is a mystery, as only a few low houses 
are in si^^. The way is not difficult to find, but a lad in 
picturesque rags takes possession of us, — and in the noon- 
day heat,--^ up the little path bordered by hedges of pome- 
granate, above a rushing river, past a mill and through the 
ruins of a painted mosque, — we follow our small guide to 
a huge precipice overhanging the chapel of a Turkish saint. 
No water is to be seeni At a rough, kx±ed gate in the hi^ 
wall the boy pounds and waits and pounds again. Either 
the custode is at his prayers or very deaf, or away from home. 
With an encouraging k)ok the boy darts away, motioning 
us to stay where we are; we wait, nothing loath, in that cxxA 
shady spot after our hot walk. 

''Is it possible that only this morning I wished for my 
fur coat ?" asks the Gentle Lady, with incredulous emphasis. 

''I don't believe you will want it again during our tour 
this year," comforts her li^ brd. 

And just then down the path our pik)t appears beckon- 
ing vigorously for us to join him and pointing into a dilajH- 
dated milL Over the rickety floor the Leader leads the 
way between the belts of rolling wooden wheels, up a ladder 

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to a window three feet high^ and scrambles through, tummg 
to help us follow him. At the foot t)i the ladder the Gentle 
Lady balks, but the Enthusiast gathering all her courage 
struggles through and comes out on a terraced garden facing 
a sheer white diff. Pigeons wheel in countless nimibers 
and swallows' nests by hundreds cling to the crag. From 
imdemeath the limestone wall, pours forth a seething flood, 
spreading into a charming dear blue pool before leaping 
over the shelving rocks in a, succession of foaming rapids. 
It is the source of the Bima. This river is said to be a con- 
tinuation of the Zalomska, which disappears the other side 
of the '^Grabok Saddle" some twelve miles away. 

The change into the blackness of the mill again is so 
complete that at first I can see nothing; but the turbaned 
miller at our look of interest lifts a rude wooden stake in the 
floor and the whirling millstOQes stop; — he dips the flat 
paddle in the rough hopper and shows us the com, then goes 
to the open bin where the meal lies yellow and fine. In 
the next hopper is whole wheat, and below, the flour groimd 
finer than the corn-meal. How picturesque it all is, — the 
rushing water seen between the wide cracks in the floor, 
the three whirling millstones, the dumsy machinery, the 
age-darkened roof outlined with powdery streaks, and the 
bent-over old man quietly awaiting our departure. 

Our car is still the centre of an admiring throng when we 
return. How incongruous it appears beside the crooked 
stones of a Mohammedan cemetery, a mass of yellow wild 
flowers! One Herzegovinian peasant has a curious decora- 
tion on the side of his jacket, consisting of four silver hearts, 

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each two inches across, connected by chains and a fringe. 
Now, one silver heart might well be understood, and even 
two silver hearts could be explained — but fourl Is he the 
village Adonis? Never have I regretted more keenly my 
inability to speak their tongue. 

Across the smiling valley on a fine level road, through 
avenues of young mulberries; past fiekls where Turkish 
women, tending sheep and goats, at our approach fling their 
skirts over their heads and hold them tightly; past big 
barracks flanked by masses of blue iris; under the many 
hillside forts we speed merrily from Blagaj into Mostar. 



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CHAPTER XXni 

MOSTAR 

A TMostar we are siirprised to fiiKl a comfortable modem 
hotel on the banks of the Naienta River whose eastern 
windows face a shady park and all our meals are served on 
the open terrace. *^ I think I shall stay here at least a week/' 
announces the Gentle Lady, after luncheon, as, sitting on her 
tiny balcony above the fair green garden, she watches the 
passers-by. 

Eight little girk are playing "ring-round-a-rosy" under 
the paulownia trees. They sing with the same perfect 
rhythm, but utter disregard of tune, so characteristic of chil- 
dren the world over. Have the Slavonic syllables really 
a familiar sound? Or is it only that the ceremony, the 
circling around, the stopping to choose, the clapping of 
hands, bring back so vividly our own childish vernacular 
that we unconsciously supply the words? 

The lemonade vender, with gorg^us shining brasses, 
no sooner appears than small be-fezzed boys swarm about 
him. It must be recess at the Turkish school-house, for a 
flock of trousered mites run ga3dy to the fountain. They are 
like a parterre of tulips in their brilliant colors. A woman 
enveloped in a superb dark blue silk and gold-threaded 
ferediza ambles by, her parasol matching her cloak but her 
red and black tasselled boots striking a dissonant note. A 
white-hooded being approaches and turns toward the bridgei 

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her hands discreetly folded; cmly a narrow slit in the spot- 
less muslin enables her to see her way. A Servian peasant in 
coarse white linen knickers and tucked-up skirt, a bag over 
her shoulder, stalks by with a free and sfdendid swing, her 
veil blowing back from her braided hair. With all her 
toiling she is more to be envied than her Turidsh sister 
in the harem. 

The bridal wreath hangs in graceful sprays from huge 
spirea bushes, the blue paulownia bells lie withering on the 
grotmd; the splashing fountains lend a breath of coolness 
to the air; and the great bare mountains of Hum loom before 
us, seamed with paths and crowned by (ottB. 

''Do see that curiously dressed woman coming down the 
street by the mosque. What is that pointed thing she has 
on her head?" cries the Gentle Lady, breaking the long 
silence. 

''That is a costume peculiar to Mostar," answers a 
voice in En^h from below, and looking down in surprise 
we discover the English acquaintances whom we had left in 
Ragusa. 

"Why, I thought you were to be in Sarajevo by this 
time. What luck to find you here I" 

'^Yes, we did intend to go on before now, but we have 
found Mostar so deli^tful that we cannot bear to leave." 

"I can weU* understand that," assents the Gentle Lady. 
"Now you must show us all the si^its." 

"First, there is the bridge, of course you know — " 

"No, I don't know one thing about Mostar, or what 
there is to see." 

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''So much the better/' is the answer, ''you 'U enjoy it 
all the more." 

" Aie n't the lights wonderful on those bare mountains ?'' 
And just then from a nearby minaiet sounds the call to 
prayer in minor, long-drawn cadence. To the four points 
of the compass the muezsdn sends forth his command and 
from the depths of the bazaar and narrow, high-walled 
streets gather the Moslem faithful. 

"Don't you want to go out for a walk? It is cooler 
now/' and the party start out to see the little town. 

"Mostar is called the capital of the Herzegovina in 
some books I have been reading recently," says the Enthu- 
siast. "It is certainly the largest city we have been in since 
leaving Trieste, with the possible exception of Spalato. 
Not that the size makes it attractive. It must be very 
closely built, for it does not seem to cover much groimd." 

Just then we come out on the bridge and stc^ imcon- 
sciously to enjoy the picture. I cannot describe that exquis- 
ite arch, which seems to spring like a living thing from shore 
to shore above the foaming water. I hear, "It is sixty feet 
from the water; it has a span of one himdred feet, while the 
Rialto span is seventy-four." The figures mean nothing 
to me, — its rich, creamy color and its ancient guarding 
towers; its moss-grown parapet and moving, varied throng; 
but above all else the wonderful perfection of the whole, — 
these enrapture me. An archaic inscription on it reads: 
"Kudret Kemeri"— that is, "The Arch of Ahnighty God." 

I make an inward vow, "Here is where I will come in 
early morning and here I can stay through long delightful 

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hours. For a stone bench extends the whole kngth of the 
parapet, and while I rest the people in their varied daily 
tasks will pass in long procession to and fro." 

Mounting the incline to the centre of the bridge we look 
down at the green water rushing between its rocky shores, 
then raise our eyes to the city on either side. ^^ Eleven, 
twelve, thirteen," a voice beside me counts, and I turn to 
question. ^^ Yes, we can see thirteen minarets from here, 
I have counted thenL" 

How sjrmbolical they are, — those slender, balconied 
towers pointing skjrward I 

'^ What wonderful old trees by that green-domed mosque 
just above the riverl I wonder whether we would be 
allowed to see them a little nearer." 

** They may be in a private garden," suggests the Cautious 
One. But we hurry across the bridge and dive down into 
the narrow street of the bazaar in eager search of a way to 
them. Before a sunlit archway we linger a moment and 
one of the squatting figures, la3ring aside his long pipe, 
rises and without a word leads the way down the stone-paved 
path and within the stuccoed wall. Behdd, a foimtain of 
running water imder a protecting roof, great spreading 
green branches, and a broad, covered portico of a mosque. 
Here, we being women and therefcHe forbidden entrance, 
he halts, removes his shoes and recites his formula of explana- 
tion in the few words of German which he knows: — 

*^The mosque of Mahomet Pasa, the first one in Mostar, 
four hundred years okl, and that is the Mecca — the name 
Mahommed, — there where the preacher stands, and this 

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leads to the minaret/' pointing to a tiny, winding stair. ^^I 
am the muezzin/' he proudly adds. The rich rugs, the 
dim li^, a cross-legged figure conning the Koran by a low 
window, the age-meUowed walls and Moorish lattices make 
a most efifective picture. 

Tiuning away we linger in the charming, restful portico, 
enjoying the peaceful scene. Between the waving branches 
of the great trees we see the Narenta girt round with lovely 
mountains. Across the hi^ arch of the old stone bridge 
moves a procession of gayly dressed figures, so quaint, so 
mystical! Are we dreaming, or is this an Arabian Night's 
tale come true? 

As we wander homeward a peculiarly lovely bird-song 
rises on the silent air. I look up startled. ''Yes, it is our 
nightingale," our English companions proudly answer my 
unspoken question. ''They sing here constantly, every- 
where, even in the hedges along the railroad track.'' 

The calendar declares it to be the ninth of May, but the 
air is like July; one looks in vain for any tiny cloud in the 
brilliant blue. Tablelands of motmtains cut sharply into 
the sky, their deep clefts and projecting angles casting 
shadows, pink and mauve and green. An exquisite weep- 
ing hemlock rises above my window and seems as foil to the 
''HUres-brpapkr'' (beeches) in the park below. 

A woman wearing the full Turkish trousers passes, lead- 
ing a tiny child by the hand, and balancing on her head a 
board on which rest two round loaves of imbaked bread. 
Is she gdng to the public oven? The combination of 
Turkish trousers, a gingham apron, and exposed head is 

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amusingjly incongruousi but even the Catholic women wear 
these mannish garments. On Sundajrs they are of black 
silk, rich and full and k>ng. It is comical to see the stately 
matrons endeavor to lift them up from the dusty highway as 
they walk. But the fashionable out-of-door costiune tor 
Turkish women in Mostar has been so graphically de- 
scribed by Major Henderson in his deli^tful book 
on the Balkans that I cannot do better than transcribe his 
words: 

^Tigure to yourself a long, very thick, dark blue great- 
coat, very similar to that worn by Mr. Thomas Atkins, 
except that it is furnished with an enormous collar stand- 
ing up nearly a foot in hei^t. This garment is thrown 
over the wearer, whom it envelops, head and all; the hook 
fastened, not over the throat, but just below the nose, leav- 
ing the hi^ stiff collar to project forwards, above and 
beycmd the forehead, a huge beak. The chink left open 
bek>w this in the shadow of the iux>jecting beak is fitted in 
with a muslin mask that covers the eyes of the wearer. 
The cloak is hooked closely all the way down, with the sleeves 
pinned back and flapping kx)6ely, rather like embryo wings. 
Huge black or bright yellow clumsy, untanned boots com- 
{dete the costume." 

In yellow trousers with red polka dots and short red 
blouse, her black round cap clutched in her hand, one lively 
little giri stole a ride on the bottom step of the hotel onmibus 
that morning, as it went sbwly around to the front door. 
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sabots. She must have had something to eat m her hand, 
for, as she rose and shook her cotton clothes, two geese with 
outstretched necks barred her way. She ^^shooed'' at them 
in vaini and finally had to slip behind some passing pedes- 
trians to get by. 

A merciful Mussulman has stopped his horses with their 
load of logs and brings them, one by one, fresh water from 
the foimtain. The sweetmeat seller comes into the park, 
slowly trundling his attractive cart, and like a swarm of but- 
terflies the kerchiefed children surround him, two having 
babies in their arms. Should one of the number be so for- 
tunate as to have the necessary penny, the rest look on with 
devouring eyes while she slowly consumes the cold fiorini 
(ice cream). 

From the tourist's standpoint there are not many ^^sights'' 
in Mostar ; but there are pictures, living ones at all times, and 
the costumes are even more varied and attractive than in 
Dalmatia, — which is saying much. The Oriental char- 
acter of the buildings, too, forms a fitting background and 
the brilliant white light reminds one of Cairo and the East. 
In the bazaar, through high-walled streets, beside the 
mosque, on the curving bridge, men, women, and children 
gather in gaudy groups daily; but on Sunday the service in 
the Franciscan church is a sight long to be remembered. 
The soldiers in their khaki and red fezes forming one solid 
mass of color; the peasants in their gay-embroidered sleeve- 
less jackets over clean white shirts, full baggy trousers, white 
gaiters and opanka and scarlet fezes; the white-gowned 
women with veils over their coin-bedecked head-dresses; 

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aH rising, bowing, or kneeling in unison, produce an effect 
as striking as it is pictiuesque. 

Nor is the scene less charming when the congregation 
poiurs out into the sunlight and under the shady trees of the 
clean white street, the groups mingle in friendly inteijourse. 
They have no horror of the camera, either, — these pleasant 
people; but the Turks, even the men, shake their heads in 
silent negation when the subject is broached. 

''What a hideous custom that is of staining the hair 
brick red with henna,'' comments the Gentle Lady, as a 
trousered girl so decorated passes us. ''Do you suppose 
that medal hanging down in front, like a label, on her cap, 
is an amulet to keep off the evil eye, a mere ornament, or 
her name in case she should get lost ?'' 

But our attention is diverted by the sound of music. " I 
do believe it is a 'j^ms^,'" I excitedly exclaim, "can't we go 
down that street and see ?" 

Looking on from a respectful distance we watch the okl 
musician twanging on the national banjo and the dancing 
circle in the street; but, alas! — this group of Servians are 
so well-to-do that they have discarded their national cos- 
ttmies and donned the prosaic clothes of civilization. 

"Yes, it is a wedding," answers a pleasant young Herze- 
govinian, stopping to look at the pretty scene, "and that is 
the bride." She wears no veil nor different costume from 
the others, but the groom is distinguished by a broad blue 
and white sash worn over his shoulder. 

"What does that queer white cap, like a chefs, mean 
on that woman?" I ask without making any attempt to 

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moderate my voice, for we have been so long in far-away 
places that it never occurs to me that any one can under- 
stand. But the woman gives me so keen a ^ance that I 
unconsciously apologize. 

'^ It is the cap of the Jewess, I think/' replies my com- 
panicm after a moment. '^Sometimes they wear a sort of 
queer decorated round rim which may be pasteboard, 
although it has all the appearance of a tin pan." 

On Saturday evening the military band played in the 
park from seven-thirty until midnight, and all the fashion 
of the dty in latest Viennese toilets gathered about the many 
tables bright with pretty lanterns. From our balcony it 
was like looking down on a stage scene, the speckless uni- 
forms of the military adding not a little to the '^brilliancy 
of the occasion.'' My last recollections that night were of 
gay laughter and the pleasant hum of many voices between 
the strains of waltz music from the regimental band. 



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MOSTAR TO SARAJEVO 

\X7H£N we finally induce Madame Ck>ntent ^^to take to 
the road again/' it is still hot and the sun blazes from 
the dearest of skies. A latticed window in the Turkish 
quarter half opens and, looking up, we catch a ^impse of 
long-lashed eyes above a gauzy veil. In the Moslem ceme- 
tery hi^ yellow wikl flowers conceal the stones; over our 
road hang locust blossoms thick with bees; and in the 
grain fiekis on either skle bloom scarlet poppies and *^ Queen 
Anne's lace.'' The hedges are pink with roses as we cross 
the wide valley, facing the Prenj Alp, with snowy Velez 
on the east. 

"Snowy, did you say?" questions the Gentle Lady. 
"It seems incredible." And she pushes back her veil to 
get a breath of air. 

A caravan of horses laden with firewood descends 
from the mountains led by women. Later we meet an 
industrious peasant woman twirling a carved spindle of 
wool as she walks rapidly abng, driving her pack-mule. 
European motmtain ash are in bbssom and flocks of 
birds rise overhead, — yelk>w, black, white, and brown, 
in tantalizing variety. 

Just without the gorge lies a group of Bogomile stones 
in a fieki about three hundred feet from the road, and we go 
over to look at them. They are most extraordinary in 

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their huge bulk and barbaric markings. As we return to 
the car we beg the Leader to enlighten us. ^'The name, 
even, is new to me/' remarks the Enthusiast in a grieved 
tone. 

This is in substance what he says: The Bogomiles are a 
religious sect among the southern Slavs, who, in the 
tlurteenth century, rebelled against the Roman Catholic 
Church and foimded this kind of Protestantism. At first 
they were protected both in Servia and Bosnia, and the faith 
made rapid strides, even reaching to Cattaro, Spalato, and 
Zara. Strenuous persecution began and continued for cen- 
turies; but they have never been entirely extirpated and even 
as late as 1876 it is recorded that over 2000 Bogomiles took 
refuge in Ragusa from the one district of Popovo in the 
Herzegovina. Little is really known of their habits or opin- 
ions, as their annak have been written by their enemies, and 
their faith is hekl in secret to this day. In various parts of 
the country their strangely shaped gravestones have been 
found, some with rude carvings, and in the museum at 
Sarajevo are reproductions of the most important examples. 
One of these is a block between nine and ten feet long, four 
and a half feet broad, and five feet high, with elaborately 
sculptured sides. It is supposed to have belonged to a Djett 
or Bogomile bishop. 

About sixteen kilometers from Mostar we enter the 
gorge of the Narenta, the great precipices of the Velez 
(6450 feet) on oiu: right. The flowering may, the fig, the 
wild pomegranate, even the faithful giant spurge strug^e in 
vain to cover these rocky slopes. Beside us, a foaming 

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green torrent rushes down a succession of low terraces into 
the Narenta. 

^^That must be the Schwarzequelle/' cries the Enthu- 
siast, ''now we are in the 'Great Defile.''' The strata of 
rocks opposite are lying in tilted swirls, their lines accentu- 
ated by low trees and bushes; on our right tower castellated 
crags and through the gorg^ of the Drezanjka River we see a 
succession of snow-touched peaks. Our own valley grows 
more contracted and traces of avalanches occur at intervals 
dose to the road. We notice a large apiary, a wajrside 
memorial cross, a cluster of thatched huts, with vineyards 
wrung from the rocky slope. Often a heavy wall b built 
against the encroachments of snow. A strange con^omerate 
formation ciurves over the road, looking as if it would 
crumble at a touch, but it is as hard as iron. Against 
the sky is seen a perfect outline of the Madonna and Child 
in heavy drapery done by Nature's hand. 

Going through a short timnel, we perceive an extensive 
valley on our right, near Grabovica, where the fantastic 
dolomite formation gives the rocks aU manner of strange 
disguises. How blue the sky is beside their rich brown 
hue! Passing another series of cascades, we cross the river 
and exchange sides with the raihx)ad. On our right the 
valley of Glogosnica, with its fantastic peaks and crags and 
tilted strata, is the wildest we have yet seen. Beside us 
the Komadinaquella gushes from beneath the mountain 
wall and flows under the road, falling into the Narenta some 
seventy feet below. 

Now the magnificent snow-fields of the Prenj Alp ap- 

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pear, above veidant, overlaiq)ing mountains. It is a beauti- 
ful scene! The greens of the forest and of the new gn.'n are 
intensified by the blue lights upon the snow of the Prenj. 
Before us the river winds in serpentine bends. Under arch- 
ing walnuts our route runs by scattered houses and at last 
a shady garden, into which we turn. It is Jablanica, and 
here we have our luncheon. 

'^It is reaUy cooler in the house/' remariLS the Leader, 
but we prefer "God's out-of-doors." When the Judas tree 
is pink with bloom; when the air is filled with fluttering 
chestnut blossoms; when the mountain ash and blue paul- 
ownia are gay with flowers; when columbines and roses 
combine to feast the eye; when mocking birds and black- 
birds are whistling their delist — who could for a moment 
desire to calmly stay indoors? We feed the dog, we feed 
the chickens, we even feed the sparrows, and I think the 
only reason the crows do not come down to our festa is that 
they are not hungry. 

Our black coffee is brought over from the cafS by an 
imposing, white-turbaned Turk, who, in his brilliant cos- 
tume, carefully balancing the three tiny long-handled brass 
pots, approaches slowly down the avenue, making a picture 
which I long to reproduce. Out of deference to foreign 
prejudices, this coffee is made without sugar, and served 
in cups that carry me back to my childhood days when just 
such dishes for my dolls filled my heart with joy! 

"How different the Herzegovina is from Dalmatia or 
Montenegro,'' muses the Gentle Lady. "One would sup- 
pose that mountains and rocky precipices would have a 

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dose resemblance to each other, but all those were so gray, 
so desolate, like the burned-out craters of the moon; while 
here the vegietaticm in the valleys extends far up the hillsides 
and the cobrs of the highest peaks, when not white with 
snow, are a soft, warm brown." 

^'I suppose this is a sandstone,'* continued the Enthu- 
siast, ^^It is almost like the Grand Cafion formaticm in 
places, isn't it?" 

** This afternoon we have the Ivan Pass,'' sakl the Leader, 
''3172 feet." 

"How hi^ are we here?" 

"Only 66s feet" 

"Well, we will certainly have some climbing to do 
and the wind — what there is ct it — is behind us. Let 
us hope the grades are not steep and the roads are 
smooth." 

"We ou^t to have some fine scenery," replies the Leader, 
quite ignoring such prosaic considerations, and we start o& 
in the highest of spirits. Crossing the Narenta, — with 
splendid views of the Prenj Alp behind us, — on an excel- 
lent road above the now foaming torrent, — clinging to the 
grateful shade of the green hillside, with more woody 
mountains before and waterfalls at frequent intervals, cool- 
ing the air with their spray, — we come, at length, to a sharp 
bend in the river and a crossroad with a sign-post mariced 
"Prozor" in Latin characters. 

"That is the direct road to Jajce, up the Rama valley," 
points the Leader. "We could take it by returning here 
from Sarajevo. They say the scenery is very fine. But 

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there is another shorter way by Kseljak and Travnik, joining 
this road at Vakuf.'' 

We cross the river and follow it, going almost due east, 
past the snowy range of B jelasnica on our left, past Ostrovac, 
and enter an open valley with cultivated slopes. Below us 
a cluster of stone-roofed huts, with a minaret in a level spot 
close to the river, denotes Sisidc. 

"I 'm sure we could n't wish for a better road, so far," 
remarks the Gentle Lady. '^It is neither dusty nor muddy, 
and we have it pretty nearly to ourselves." 

On again by the river's brink throu^ a gorg^ where we 
catch glimpses of snow-crowned Visocica Planina above the 
nearer hills, we come to a bridge of graceful arches with 
red-roofed, latticed houses in high-walled gardens on the 
other side. This is Konjica, formerly a border town between 
the Herzegovina and Bosnia, later the seat of a Turkish 
governor, and now the centre for excursions to the sur- 
rounding peaks. We glide over the ancient bridge and 
throu^ the throng^ bazaar and, leaving the Narenta 
River, turn into the Tiescanica valley. As we pass under 
the railroad, I notice that the '^Wamung'' is in Turkish, 
Croatian, Himgarian and, of course, the official language, 
German. 

The Tiescanica is a beautiful tumbling mountain toi> 
rent; soon we cross it, and begin to climb the Ivan Pass. Here 
the road is a bit stony and the grades are a trifle steep, but 
it is the following south wind which makes our faithful 
motor car rebel. As we stop at a convenient cascade, a 
shepherd lad upon the green hillside b playing on his lute; 

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the strain is exquisitely melodiousi and re-echoes in the silent 
mountain ^en. An old woman, toothless, but with friendly 
smiki has come up to the car, twirling rapidly her spindle as 
she walks. We indicate by gestures our delight in the 
musical shepherd call, and she is manifestly pleased at our 
ai^xredadon. I ask her whether I may take her picture and 
she is very much amused, but poses with willing grace, 
while her daughter looks on in satisfaction. 

**l am so ^ad that we have to stop occasionally,'' cries 
the Enthusiast. ''It brings us so near the people of the 
country, and they are such a kindly sort." 

As we go on, ascending in two loops, we look back 
again at the Prenj Alp, and see just above it the white half 
circle of the rising moon. The hillside shades us for a 
short way, while the river falls in a succession of foaming 
rapids far below. As we stop by a brook to fiU our pail, 
in case of need, we see a tree on firel Has it been struck 
by lightning or — 

''Oh, lookP' cries the Gentle Lady. Beyond the danc- 
ing river, the white houses of Brdjani rise in a gentle mdine 
to meet young apple orchards, pink with UosscHns. Above, 
the hills are clothed with verdure to the snow line, whence in 
wonderful majesty of outline, extends the Prenj Alp I 
Beyond Zukid the cliffs approach so near that there is just 
room for the railroad, the road, and a sfdendid waterfaU as 
the Tr^canica makes a hap into the glen below. Gnarled 
chestnuts, white birch and beech trees flourish in the pretty, 
high-lying valley. Passing a tumble-down mill, we cross 
the stream and railroad. It is Bradina. 

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The cherry-tiees are in blossom, — such enormous ones I 
never sawt They aie like forest trees and apparently grow 
wild, as they are scattered cm the dopes in the midst of oaks 
and aklers. As we climb, the fuU length of the tremendous 
Prenj Alp closes the valley behind us. The rippling stream 
and the wooded hiUs are forgotten in wcmder at the chang- 
ing lights, blue, pink, and mauve, over the snowy fields d 
that great jagg^ mass. 

At the top of the Ivan Pass, — 317a feet, or "961 M,'* 
as the sign-post says, — we cross the frontier, leaving the 
Herzegovina with her magnificent mountain scenery, and 
enter Bosnia. 

<«This is the watershed between the Adriatic and the 
Black Sea," says the Leader. ''The Black Sea'' sounds 
Asiatic, indeed. How delidously cool the au: is as we slide 
down through green and shady forests, winding in and out 
above a green valley! What though the road be narrow and 
covered with stone, — have we not ample compensation ? 

A new snow mountain appears. ''It is Igman Planina, 
I think,'' says the Leader, but my attention is distracted by 
a flock of long-wooled sheep branded in red, that will not 
leave the road. 

"You must look at that big cherry-tree, there in the 
woods," cries Madame Q>ntent 

"That is a giant," agrees the Leader. "It must be 
two and one-half feet throu^." 

We whiri throu^ Rastelica, whose wooden houses 
resemble Alpine chalets, and a few minutes after get another 
superb view. 

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''It is Igman again, — we are coming nearer/' says the 
Leader. With what grandeur it lifts its snowy summits 
above the fruitful fields! Passing the sawmills of Tarcin 
on the Lepenica River, and going cautiously over the 
VUoymc Saddfei for the road b rough, we come to Pazaric, 
where a gypsy canq>, with its tents, bonfires, and swarm 
of dusky children, makes a pleadng (Acture. 

Barren heists and stony downs are behind us now, for 
Bosnia is one of the most heavfly timbered countries in 
Europe. As far as we can see in every direction green fidds 
and forests mount the hiUs to the snow line; we are enter- 
ing the Bosna valley and soon cross and recross one of its 
tributaries, the Zujevina. Past the big saw mills of Hadzici, 
past the inn of KriSanje, where the road leads off to Jajce, 
we speed on our way. 

There seem to be two distinct types of houses in aU these 
villages, one low and square, with latticed windows and 
overhanging eaves, which we soon learn belongs to the 
Turk; and one with a very steep pointed gaUe, as if it 
could not sufficiently emphasize its difference, which bebngs 
to the Christian. After crossing the Bosna, we get a charm- 
ing view of Sarajevo, seven miles away, but turn aside to 
the pretty park of Ilidze, on the Zeljeznica, where there is a 
group of sununer hotels, an c^n-air restaurant, and delight- 
ful hot sulphur baths. 

How heavenly it seems to find a fine hotel away from the 
rush and roar, the dust and heat of the dty! This sulphur 
spring which here bubbles up from the earth at a tcmpen- 
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Roman times. Blossoming tiees shed their sweet perfume, 
the moon casts wavering shadows on our vine-hung balcony, 
and ni^itingales fill the still air with music. ''Here, too, 
I stay/' quoth my Lady G>ntent, and no one says her nay. 
The next momingi after a leisurely breakfast, we motor 
to Sarajevo for adayof si^t-aeeing. It seems strange that 
even in the motor we are too warm. Four rows of chestnut- 
trees extend along the avenue the whole distance, but the 
road is very dusty from much use, and none too smooth. 
Sarajevo at first sight is disa^^intingly modem. During 
the last thirty years under Austrian administration much 
has been done to sweep away the old order of things» to 
refdace the Asiatic by the European, and the attempt has 
been lamentably successful. 

''But the museum," I cry, ''that should be interesting." 
The Gentle Lady and I wait near the post office in a strip 
of shady sidewalk, while the Leader seeks the custodian, — 
for the (dace is closed. It takes some time, but he is finally 
successful and we mount three flights of stairs to a hospitable 
door. Rarely has a museum appeared to me so enticing. 
Gx>l and dean and quiet, the change from the sizzling 
streets is in itself a treat. The small rooms contain figures 
of peasants lying, sitting, or standing, and are furnished 
with andent ceilings, woodwork, and hangings. Each form 
being carefully labelled, weU made, and attued in the 
choicest eml»X)ideries and stuffs, the whole forms a wonder- 
fully life-like, entertaining, and instructive collection of 
Bosnian and Herzegovinian costumes and customs. Native 
jeweby, old bdts and waistcoats; embroideries, harnesses, 

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MOSTAR TO SARAJEVO 

and carved spindles; repoussi silver-handled bliinderbusses, 
swordsi and knives; wooden cupsi scythe-handlesi and whet- 
ting cases, rich in native carving; various household utensils 
and even model villages; everything illustrating the ancient 
and modem life of the peofde is gathered together here. 
There is also a prehistoric collecticm of tombs with bronze 
ornaments, in sUu; papier macht replicas of famous Bogo- 
mik stones; birds beautifully arranged for reference; mush- 
rooms mounted and labelled; and a botanical departmeitt 
from which it is difficult to tear oneself. Here we stay 
untfl himger drives us to the hotel for luncheon, and after- 
ward we rest for an hour in the very hottest part of the day. 
Eveiy one assures us that this heat is exceptional at this 
time of the year. 

Fortunately we consult no thermometer, but it must be 
nearly loo degrees Fahrenheit in the shade. The sun feels 
a bit scorching and I notice that most of the natives take 
pains to walk in the thin strip of shade on the street, so I 
follow their examine when, led by a guide, we start out to 
see the sights. 

^'There are over two hundred mosques in Sarajevo, but 
by a regulation recently passed no Christian is aUowed in 
any of them,'' so we content ourselves with the outside, 
glancing at the shady courtyards with the inevitable foun- 
tain and the groups of picturesque men. 

Our guide takes us, however, to see an ancient Servian 
or Greek chiurh, shut away from the business street within a 
shady court, where beneath a loggia there are arrangements 
fw out-of-door services. It locks odd to see the name ol 

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Christ outUned in colored lights upon the wall. The small 
dark interior of the church, with its gilded icanostaSj its 
many pillars and few windows reminds us forcibly ct 
Russia. 

We visit the new town hall, from the uf^r windows 
oi which one gets a good view of the city. But to the 
Occidental visitor the real interest of Sarajevo is in the 
bazaar and the endlessly queer street scenes. One mer- 
chant is selling cherries from a large roimd tray, but fond 
as I am (rf fruit, these look too young and hard to taste. 
A group of trousered maidens lost in curious contemplation 
of us, half drop their ptctttidng drapery from before their 
faces. One bazaar is underground and deli^tfully cool 
and comfortable. An open market-place is faced with tiny, 
box-like booths in two stories, each so low that the owner 
sitting cross-legged on the floor almost touches the roof with 
his turban. A tailor is often at work bebw and a wood- 
carver above; or a shoemaker at his last, beneath a merchant 
of brasses; bundles of firewood stand sociably by the old- 
clothes dealers; a man passes, laden with ropes of all sizes 
in a basket on his back and in rings and loops around 
his neck and on his arm; another selling cornucopias of 
popcorn from a tray balanced on his head. Long-wooled 
sheep are driven in to market, the lambs carried around 
the neck exactly as in the catacomb pictures of the Good 
Shepherd. 

In the grain market, too, there is a wonderful play of 
color, many sauntering piurhasers, groups about the weigh- 
ing machine, and long rows of burlap bags filled with different 

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seeds and presided over by dignified peasants. Fruit and 
vegetable markets are always attractive, but here they are out 
in sucha ^are of radiatii^ heat that no amount of strange 
new types tempt us to linger. We are ^ad to g^t into the 
motor again and flee from pavements and close stucco 
houses to our cod retreat beyond the Bosna River. 



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CHAPTER XXV 
ILroZE TO JAJCE VIA TRAVNIK 

npHE sun sets this evening with the colors of the Red 
Sea, changing from golden into lemcm, then to orange, 
almost crimson, with soft greenish touches. The moonli^ 
is so entrancing that we saunter out into the park, through 
shadowed pathways and open spaces, on to a p(xid, guided 
by a chorus of happy frogs. 

In the distance, bright colored lights and merry voices tell 
of a native kav(maj or caff^ and the low growl of a bear 
warns us that we are near the 2o51ogical garden. We retrace 
our steps to the vine-hung pergola; strangely enou^ to us, 
there is no dew, but that delicious cool air which the night 
brings to a garden. 

Under the awning on our own broad terrace, we listen 
to the nightingale's romantic song; a gentle twitter, as if to 
ask his mate, ^^ Are you asleep?'' and then a soft whistle, 
a lovely trill, a burst of melody, over and over again. 

One morning, the large formal garden beneath my 
window is bare and devoid oi a semblance of plant life; only 
the grass borders are green. On our return from Sarajevo, 
in the afternoon, I rub my eyes to see whether I am dream- 
ing. What a wonderful climate Bosnia possesses! Banana 
plants have appeared and grown to three feet hi^, geraniums, 
heliotrope, salvia, pansies, even roses and fuchsias have come 
out of the ground and brought forth blossoms, — it is 

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Aladdin's magical lamp again! I don't know at what time 
the gardeners begin their woric, but at 6:30 they are in the 
midst of it, — between 8 and 8:30 they all disai^pear, pos- 
sibly for cofiee. In their spotless turbans, red vests and 
broad sashes, dark full trousers, embroidered leggings, and 
pointed opanka^ they are very decorative among the flowers. 
Every bit of watering is done with a s[Hrinkling pot filled 
again and again from a convenient fountain. 

A flock of gokifinches flash by in the dazzling sunshine. 
I hear the strident note of the cuckoo, then his call, and see 
the white thumb-marks on his tail as he flies silently into the 
wood. The golden oriole gives his flute-like call over and 
over again, and the magpies are both numerous and noisy. 
The bees are almost too friendly, for they whiz in and out 
of one's roctfn and help themselves to the sweets on the out- 
of-door breakfast table. 

I do not get accustomed to the mode of salutation which 
has pursued us ever since entering Austria. I open my 
door to bring in my shoes. ^^KUss die HamdJ^ salutes s(Hne 
one from the corridor; a knock on the door, — as I call 
''Heretfi," I hear again, ^^KUssdieHand^** and my morning 
coffee walks in; the woman in charge of the **Bad^** not only 
says **K&ss die Hand^^* but does it, as I enter and leave; the 
cashier who changes my bill, the porter who opens the door, 
even the little giri scrubbing the steps as I pass explodes with 
^^KUssdieHandf^* until I am shaking with the absurdity of it. 
I am embarrassed, too, by my own discourtesy in accepting 
so much and never even answering '^You're welcome." 
I have never learned just what to say. 

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The notices in the rooms here are in German, Hmigarian, 
Slavic, and Turkish. Not only the names on the raihx)ad 
stations, but all the time-taUes, large and small, are printed 
in the old Slavic, as well as the modem Roman characters. 

Perhi^ one reason that we feel so very far from home 
is that we have not seen a newspaper since leaving Ragusa. 
There axe plenty oi joumak lying around but they seem to 
be mostly in the Slavic, Turkish, ot Hungarian languages. 

Are there no native women in Ilidze, I wonder. I 've 
seen but one on the village street. She passed this after- 
noon, dressed in Mack full trousers to ankle, wooden sabots, 
short Uack sleeveless jacket cut low in front over a full 
white shirt with sleeves rolled up, and white kerchief bor- 
dered with pale blue oa her head. 

The parcels-post is very convenient throu^iout Europe, 
and wanting to send some things to a friend near Vienna, 
I concluded to attend to it myself. Surely a government 
official would know German, and possibly English. Slip- 
[Hng out just before lunchecxi, I discovered that the post 
office was ck)sed from twelve to two; leaving {denty of 
leeway, I sallied forth again at about four o'clock, and met 
the post-master cm the door-step. He politely remarked 
*^KUss die Hand^^; and after unlocking the door, waited 
for me to precede him into the office. He looked kxig 
and critically at the simple address in Wien, and vainly 
searched his books for the suburb to which it was directed. 

"But there is no post office at D ." 

"Oh, yes," I reply, "I am sure there is, but it may be 
the mail is distributed from the main office in Wien.^' 

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He finaUy makes up his mind to accept the parcel on 
these terms and turns it over. 

''But it is not sealed/' 

''OhI Is that allowed?'' 

''Yes, it is better so." 

"Could you perhaps doit fcHT me?'' I ask. 

"Certainly," and with the utmost deliberation he pro- 
cures a large stick of red wax and a box of matches and 
proceeds to seal the parcel at each end. By this time three 
people have come in, and, while waiting their turns, watch 
with keen interest these iq^Mirently unusual proceedings. 

"Please write your name there," he indicates the j^ace 
and watches me as I write it. Then he walks across the 
room to some big scales and back agam for the weights, to 
a cupboard for the necessary label, and to a drawer for the 
receipt book. It is rather a relief, — all this quiet, if some- 
what clumsy, business method. Such a contrast to our 
rushing way at hornet 

Upon settling our account, he again says, **KUss die 
Hand/* as he rises, and the three waiting supfdiants stand 
gazing after me as I leave the (^ce. 

In the cool of the late afternoon, we walk out the strai^ 
avenue of chestnuts for about two miles, to where the Bosna 
gushes from the rocks in several separate streams at the foot 
of Mt Igman. The government trout-breeding establish- 
ment here is extremely interesting. They show us the fish 
in all stages, from the egg to the big feUows weighing 
nearly a pound. Of course these sources are a good deal 
alike, as the Gentle Lady asserts, but it makes an excuse 

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for a fine tramp, and on the way back the air has become 
80 cool that we are glad to take it rapidly. 

The fragrance of the trumpet honeysuckle tells us that 
we are nearing the park siurounding the hotel; the Chinese 
magnolias, in exquisite mauve tints, stand like ghost flowers 
in fairyland, against the waving linden branches; the larches 
cast feathery shadows upon the white pathway, and the 
woodbine, our own Virginia creeper, seems to bring home 
very near us as we enter the wreathed doorway. 

The hotels at Gacko, Mostar, and Ilidze are operated 
by the government, and we discover that our enthusiastic 
motorist who waved to us so cheerfully on the way from 
Gacko to Mostar is the director here. He is curious to 
know how we Americans happen to come all the way to 
Ilidze by motor, and begs us to spread the knowledge of 
this comfortable establishment among our countrjrmen. He 
overwhelms us with kind attentions, decorates our car when 
we leave until it looks ready for the Battle of Flowers at 
Nice, and even orders our luncheon prepared for us at 
Travnik, besides giving us valuable instruction about the 
state of the roads throughout Bosnia. 

Bound for Jajce we cross the Zujevina, take a road to 
the right by the Krisanje inn, and are soon in the midst of 
undulating hills green with forests or fruits or grain. I am 
unaware that we are climbing, until we come to a steep de- 
scent down which we go in four loops into the valley of the 
Lepenica. Here the houses are sometimes adobe, some- 
times of wood with long shinies for the roofs; whitewashed 
ovens, standing separate or under a comer of the roof, are 

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I HE PAINTED MOSQIE, TRAVXIK 



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ILIDZE TO JAJCE VIA TRAVNIK 

a noticeable feature. The country is well cultivated and no 
rocks are visible^ except, alas! upon the road; (ot Bosnian 
carts make such narrow wheel-tracks that one side or the 
other of the motor must be always on the sharp stones. 

FoUowing the Lepenica River we cross and recross it 
before reaching Kseljak. Here we find many inns, a 
Turkish khan, and a Hotel Schwab, which looks inviting; 
but we roll by without investigating. Soon the road turns, 
becoming smoother and wider, and crossing the Fojnica at 
Gromeljak. We stop to get a picture of a typical country 
mosque with its minaret of wood. 

Our way clings to the river's brink with the snowy 
range of Vratnica on our left. Village fc^ows village in 
quick succession through this (deasant region. Jehovac, 
with a view of Mt. Igman behind us, Mt. Vratnica beside 
us, and before us Mt. Vlasic, covered with snow; Breslovsko, 
with forests of maples, white birch, and oak; then Bjelalovac, 
where a crowd of men in white, with red turbans and sashes, 
lounge in picturesque attitudes before a Turkish khan, 
saluting us as we pass. There are wooden posts every 
half-kilometer now, although sometimes the painted figures 
have become obliterated. The fences are of woven bou(^ 
and the wandering pig wears two stakes, twelve inches 
long, attached to a belt, which prevents him from getting 
into the fields. 

''How do you suppose that woman keeps any water in 
those shallow pails?" cries the Gentle Lady, as we meet 
a trousered female, almost running, halandng on a straig^ 
rod across her shoulders, two brinmiing buckets of water. 

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As we cross the Kozica River the road 18 green with grass. 
Women plou^iing with oxen in the fields here wear skirts 
instead of trousers, and the men take off their feises, or 
turbans, instead oi touching them, in salutation. It must 
be that we are in a Catholic section. 

At Busovaca the making of sim-dried brick seems to be 
an important industry, and here we come again to the 
raihxxul, which has taken another route from Sarajevo. We 
cross the Lasva River, turning to the left by a big lumber 
yard and sawmill, into a narrow valley between fwest- 
covered hills with an occasional projecticHi of limestone or 
sandstone rock. There is only room for the river, the rail- 
way, and the highroad in that narrow canyon; but soon 
the hills recede, farms and fruit orchards lie on gentle 
slopes, birds axe singing, the temperature is perfect, with 
an overcast sky, and still before us towers snowy Vlasic. 
The road is wide and smooth as we cross and recross the 
serpentine Lasva. Tiny milk are suspended over tributary 
streams. These characteristic Bosnian structures have 
been described as box-like huts raised hi^ on piles with 
small solid wheels turning horizontally under the water. In 
varying stages of dilapidation they prove a continual temp- 
tation to the camera fiend, each one seeming more at- 
tractive than the last. We pass white stucco houses with 
long-shingled, pointed roofs, and crosses on each end of the 
ridg^ pole, the poorer houses being of adobe bricks, or 
sometimes of wattles imder plaster. 

The rock-hewn sides of Mt. Vlasic seem close to us, near 
Dolac Grides flash by us, and, as we cross the Lasva 

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A HUI IKklLY OF A MAIDKN 

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ILIDZE TO JAJCE VIA TRAVNIK 

again, we see in mid-stieam a Turidsh wagon overflowing 
with women and chikiien, their brig^ garments forming a 
¥eritaUe poppy bouquet* How the horses enjoy the cool 
water! The women stare fixedly at us from beneath their 
silken hoods. 

Soon the M v^alled castle of Travnik crowning the hill 
comes into view. According to tradition, it was built by 
Tvertko U., Ban, or King, of Bosnia in the fourteenth cen- 
tury, and althou^ the town has been burned many times 
in its change of masters, the walls and towers of the castle 
still stand intact. 

Crosdng the rushing Lasva and slo^y traversing the 
crowded bazaar^ we stop at the faither end of the town 
before our hotel door. It is very hot. As soon as vit step 
from the motor we feel the reflection from the burning 
pavements; but the Leader says, reproachfully: ''Did n't 
you see those tombs we passed just a little vray down the 
street? We will just have time to lock at them before 
luncheon.'' 

The bazaar hokb pictures that I long to snap, so we 
start out. It did not seem any distance at all in the car, 
but plodding along on foot in the heat of noonday gives us 
a very di£krent standard, and it seems to me we shall never 
reach that painted mosque, which the guide-book says we 
ou^ to see. 

The street groups are worth while. A gypsy family 
squatting in a shady comer of the sideviralk; a trio of country 
women stalking toward the market-i^ace; a company of 
turbaned men under an awning around a taUe; a vender 

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of some sort with a hug^ can of water in one hand, a heavy 
basket in the other, and on his head an oblong tray. One 
tiny butterfly of a maiden I intercept on her way home from 
school, to the grinning delist of her older brother. The 
bazaar is almost deserted, but the tables of piled-up vege- 
tables and fruits are charming in color beneath the loggia 
of the painted mosque. For this differs from other mosques 
in having an arcade around three of its sides, and in this 
arcade are small booths under sheltering tilted umbrellas, 
for the sun seems almost fierce enough to melt the nails 
and bells and odd-shaped tools, not to mention the sweets 
and cheeses displayed in great variety. The paintings on 
the outside walls of this mosque axe more attractive caught 
in a flying ^impse from a motor when their crude colors axe 
somewhat softened by distance. 

The canopied tombs of the Bosnian viziers under mag- 
nificent oak-trees are really interesting. Instead of a turban 
in the usual Mohammedan fashion, these gravestones are 
surmounted by a kind of tall fez cut in one piece with the 
colimm; a carved slab outlines the grave, and the pillars 
supporting the stone roof have simply wrought capitals. 
The open dome is screened with wire netting and heavy 
iron bars placed between the pillars to keep off marauders. 
The inevitable fountain is close at hand with constantly 
running water. Travnik was the chief city of Bosnia 
for foiu: hundred years until the seat of government was 
transferred to Sarajevo. 

"Do you know, we are on the very last page of the Bae- 
deker," says the Gentle Lady, as after an excellent luncheon 

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A CHRISTIAN F/VKMHOUSE IN liOS.MA 



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ILIDZE TO JAJCE VIA TRAVNIK 

we aie preparing for the afternoon ride. '^What are we 
going to do next?'' 

"Going through it backwards, perhaps r' — the En- 
thusiast is daring. 

Leaving Travnik by way of a charming avenue of ancient 
poplars, following the willow-borderedi wandering Lasva, 
passing a mossy wayside fountain where sits a long-haired 
dervish, we come to the tomb of the Holy Mohammedan, 
Ismail Baba. However, it is not to do homage to this good 
man that we pause; but to the colossal po^^ which, nine 
feet in diameter and nearly four hundred years old, lifts its 
enormous trunk into the air, bearing branches the size of 
ordinary forest trees. 

A little farther along, on the right-hand side, in a field 
above us are four or five Bogomile stones, much worn by 
the weather, but very curious. A whole family comes out 
of a nei^boring house and stands in the shade of their 
own doorway watching us wistfully until we leave. They 
are certainly Christians, as the women are not veiled. Do 
they belong to that once persecuted sect, the Bogomiles? 

It is very warm, even with the motion of the car, and 
we half envy the bare-legged peasant standing in midstream, 
mending his wattled barrier. There is plenty to occupy 
our attention in the road, however, for no sooner do we 
wait for a drove of cattle to be uiged by than flocks of sheep 
and goats and even pigs advance toward us, and long lines 
of laden horses tied six or ei^t in a string. 

The valley becomes narrower, the sheltered slopes are 
covered with forests, and both apple and cherry trees are 

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masses of fragrant bloom. Beyond Goles station, the hills 
are lower with open fields, but no villages, and we b^in to 
climb over the Komar Saddle. At the first long loop we 
face the other side of snowy Vlasic, which we have had before 
us most of the day, and stop for water at a house by the road. 
Three picturesque peasants saunter out through the open 
door, yawning, — apparently disturbed at their siesta, — 
fine muscular fellows, with keen interest in the motor car. 
Another one lidoks out lazily from an upper window, which 
is evidently on a level with the floor. 

After another two loops and a long ascent, we arrive at 
the top (3090) feet, in an hour and four minutes, including 
stops. The distance from Travnik (1150 feet) is twenty- 
two kilometers, or thirteen and three-fourths miles. The 
descent to Oborgi is so steep that the railroad is a rack and 
pinion one, but the grades of the highway are weU manag^ 
and the stones are few, so that we coast easily down to the 
wooded valley of the Jablan. We are enjoying the marsh 
marigolds which spangle the meadows beyond Oborgi, 
when we encounter a dust storm, which is so violent that we 
are forced to stop. Finally putting on goggles, — it is too 
hot for coats, — and bending our heads, we move on throu^ 
the blinding gusts. 

The whole countrydde is returning from the market at 
Vakuf , this pleasant morning in May, I am sure, for we meet 
them all; Turks and Christians of both sexes, riding and 
driving and leading their mules. One man, while conduct- 
ing his flock homeward, is busily knitting a stocking. ISs 
imposing big turban makes his occupation all the more in- 

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cmigraous. When we reach Vakuf itself, a Turkish town 
mi the Urbas River, full of cobr and movement, the crowd 
18 even greater, and it is with the utmost difficulty that we 
traverse its bazaar on our way throu^ the villagie. 

Here we turn north, f oUowing this charming river in all 
its caprices, at times between wooded heights, again widening 
with a swift current, breaking into cascades near Dogcmovd 
and reflecting the k>fty prediHce near Vinac. Are those 
half-overgrown ruins faintly to be seen upcm its summit 
the work of nature or of medieval man? The kilometers 
slip by, the air gains a bit of freshness, and Jajce a{^)ears, 
on its conical hill in the midst of trees and gardens. 

Crossing the Pliva River, with its array of quaint okl 
mills, we slip through the narrow gateway, and in a moment 
are at the door of the hotel in Jajce. 



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CHAPTER XXVI 

JAJCE 

T THINK that was our hottest and dustiest ride, but we en- 
joyed it notwithstanding and could imagine how perfect it 
would have been had the temperature not been so unseason- 
able. After dinner we were not too exhausted to go out in 
the flooding moonlight; out in the narrow streets with over- 
hanging latticed balconies; by the foimtain where a tiurbaned 
figure squatted ; through the mediaeval gateway which looked 
strangely stem and savage; across the rushing river; down, 
down, down an interminable flight of dusky time-worn steps; 
— to where, with deafening roar, the Pliva hxurls itself into 
the Urbas, one himdred feet below. Clouds of spray from 
the thimdering torrent blew over and aroimd us and the 
tumult was overpowering. But not content with this expe- 
rience, the Leader went on down stiO more flights of mossy, 
shelving steps — and we, perforce, must follow — to a 
point below the falls. In the full glory of the moon's rays, 
that foaming, tossing, tumbling flood plimged over the 
black projecting rocks of the abjrss. It was indescribable. 
The morning light draws us irresistibly to the river's 
brink again and to the clattering mills above the falls. How 
impossible it seems that anything so thoroughly picturesque 
can really serve a useful purpose! The huge wheels, dark 
and dank, turn with a solemn slowness; the water gushes 
from every loosened paling and falls in sheets of foam below 

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IHK PLIVA AHOVK THK FALL 



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THE SAME (VATE FROM THE INSIDE 



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JAJCE 

the low foot-bridge; and on the shores of each projecting 
islet, a tree or bush extends its spreading branches. The 
smaller streams turn into bridal veils below the tiny mills. 

A square, arcaded campanile rises on the hillside, remind- 
ing one of Italy. It looks curiously out of place among 
these blackened Bosnian roofs. Just within the gate is a 
group of Turkish houses surrounding a minaret; beside the 
mosque rises a Lombardy poplar, beneath which is a foimtain 
of running water and, dose by, an octagonal turret. It 
makes a charming picture. So does the little village of 
Kosluk on the other side of the Urbas, the low houses with 
overhanging eaves climbing up the hillside in a Japanese 
effect which is adorable. 

With all that, the hotel here is a great disappointment; 
comfortable enough, superbly located on a cliff above the 
Urbas, but with no terraces, no balconies, no garden, and 
no view from the rooms because the windows are too high. 
The entire slope opposite has been thickly planted with 
spruce below and beech above; many paths zig-zag through 
its thicket, but not one road. 

A creamy horse with curved neck and waving mane 
went rapidly along the path one afternoon; the man in his 
white homespun, with red fez and sash, walked as n^idly 
beside him. I thought of the fairy stories in the days of 
my youth, as the Arab chaiger and his master wound throu^ 
the dappled shadows against the green hillside. 

On Friday we meet many Turkish women out walking, 
enveloped in heavy black coats and thick white headgear, 
in spite of the melting heat; but this is the only day in the 

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week that they aie permitted the freedom of the streets, and 
whole families are visiting the cemeteries and sauntering 
through the park opposite, some of them carrying balnes 
with big staring eyes. 

''Would you like to visit a harem?'' asks our guide. 
''Perhaps the ladies would find it interesting; my wife can 
take them this afternoon." 

So about four o'clock we accompany a pleasant young 
German matron to a gateway not half a block from the 
hotel. Pushing it open, we go across a cobblestone court, 
up a few rickety steps to a second story porch, with holes in 
the floor big enough to put one's foot through. Here are 
three or four green trunks, a cupboard or two, and a few 
nails for clothing. From one side opens the man's room, 
comfortable and clean, containing a big stove, a ^ass case 
of Turkish books, a divan a few inches high built under the 
window and covered with a rug. From the porch another 
door b pushed open, and these are the women's quarters. 
A kitchen first, the furniture consisting of a big platform of 
clay with a brazier of ashes and a brass coffee-pot on it; 
behind the door hang tongs and irons, and the roof is black- 
ened with smoke and full of holes. Into the sitting-room 
we are mvited by the hostess, who, dressed in faded calico 
trousers and a brown shawl which conceals every vestige 
of hair, receives us pleasantly. Only one blackened tooth 
remains, but she does not on that account hesitate to smile. 

Taking up a large part of the room, is a hand-loom for 
weaving the thin white muslin so conunon in the Orient; 
besides this, a porcelain stove, two low divans covered with 

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rugs, and a comer aq>boaid holding the beds, which are 
spread on the floor at night. The woman's black cloak and 
white street head-covering hang on a hook in the comer. 

A young woman with badly scarred cheeks enters, and, 
after some persuasion, shows us her needle work. "Without 
instraction she makes her own designs and stitches, em- 
brokiering handkerchiefs, towels, and napkins in goki thread 
and bri^t silks for her trousseau," translates our gmde. 
This is the famous gokl-thread work of the haiem alike on 
both sides. 

" How okl is she ? What is her name ?" I ask. 

"Vedigia. Oh, about twenty. She does not know. 
They never know their age* They keep no account — they 
cannot read or write. She is a dau^iter.'' 

Just then another pale, scrawny woman appears, bare- 
footed, and dressed in dreadful calico trousers, but on her 
head is a tiny red cap sewn with gold sequins and seed pearls. 
"She is a step-daughter,'' we are tokl, "and that is her little 
giri who clings to her so tightly. Her fother, a priest, has 
been dead six months." They all look with dread at the 
camera, but finger our embroklered waists and ask if we do 
it ourselves. 

Turkish women comb theur hair but once a week, it 
being consklered bad for the hair to do it oftener! The 
young girl has had a dreadful carbimde on her cheek, but 
before she would permit a man to look at it she would die, — 
and she nearly dkl. It is difficult to believe that there are 
still thousands of poor women living in this dreadful atmos- 
phere of ignorance. We shiver, as we come away, at the 

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hopelessness, the misery, of these forlorn creatures. For 
man, the Moslem religion may be all very well, certainly 
there are phases of it which are extremely beautiful! But 
for women I 

One evening, strange minor cadences falling from a 
height called us to the window, and, in the darkness, we 
leaned out to hear again the muezzin at nine o'clock, as he 
walked around the tiny gallery of the minaret and to the f oiu: 
winds of heaven sent forth his plea for prayer. The voice 
was strong and yoimg and vibrant with feeling. In the 
distance a deeper tone was heard, and faintly, stiU farther 
away, another, before stillness settled over the sleeping city 
and the nightingales took up their ceaseless love songs. 

The combination of radiant moonlight and the melodies 
of nightingales made sleep for me impossil)le. Above the 
swiftly flowing river, far below, I leaned from my casement 
and drank in the exquisite beauty of the night. A twitter, 
an oft-repeated note, a trill and another note in a higher key, 
— then, when an answering call was heard, the songster 
bturst forth with such a mad revelry of song it seemed im- 
earthly, so wild the melody, so piercingly sweet the tones! 
When do the nightingales sleep ? For they sing all day and 
all night, above the rushing river. 

Late one afternoon, in desperation over the intense heat, 
we motored along the Pliva River, by its rapids and green 
pook, by its swamps of yellow iris, where goldfinches and 
magpies flock, to the lake of Jezero, about six miles from 
Jajce. Here we stopped at a TheahUtte for a cup of tea, 
but the porch overhanging the water proved so temptin^y 

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cool, and the trout in their cage moored to the steps kx>ked 
so delicious, that we determined to have our supper there. 
Men in a native canoe passed, their red fezes making a bit 
of color on the green water. Gradually the twilight deep- 
ened, and through its shadows we motored back to Jajce. 

That evening the great waterfall was to be illuminatfd 
for us. '^I do not know whether it will amount to anything, 
but I thought we would try it — they seemed so anxious to 
do it,'' said the Leader. So we walked down to the river 
level, crossed the bridge, and up on the other side, to a 
pavilion in the park directly qpposite the cataract. Here 
taking possession of a garden bench, the only seats, we 
patiently waited. Silent figures by twos and threes ^ed 
along the paths and dropped down on the grassy banks out- 
side, until we thought most of the population was abroad. 
Soon a great flash of softened ivory played upon the foam- 
ing waterfall, and the illumination began. It was really 
very beautiful, lasting about half an hour, with varying 
e£Eects, not only on the dashing water, but on the pictur- 
esque fortress above the terraced town and the crowds of 
gayly costumed people who occupied each vantage-point 
on both sides of the river. 

One day we climbed to the old castle which was last 
captured by the Turks in 1528. There b not much to see 
but ancient walls and grass-grown spaces; however, the 
view is charming over the city, river, and adjacent hills. 
Here we caught just a glimpse of the shut-in little town of 
factories and mills, which, in order to utilize the valuable 
water power without marring the beauty of Jajce proper, 

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has grown up behind a conceaUng cliff at one side of the 
city. 

Near the campanile of St. Luke is the entrance to 
what is called the catacombs. With visions of the Roman 
subterranean galleries in mind, I hesitated to go down the 
steep, dark stairway which led into the depths below; but 
the guide held up his blazing torch, the Leader waited to 
follow me, and I stiunbled down the broken steps, coming 
very soon to an irregular chamber excavated in the sdid 
rock. This evidently was one of the cave churches where 
the early Christians used to worship, and which they used 
also as a biuial place. The dome, the aixhes, the altars 
and recesses, as well as the sculptured decorations, are done 
with remarkable skill. Beneath is a crypt more roughly 
hewn. No date is assigned to this work, but on one of the 
walls of the ante-chamber are carved the arms of that Hrvoja 
after whom the octagonal tower in the market-place at 
Spalato was named, and who died in 1415. 

But the great sight of Jajce was on Sunday morning, 
when the whole countryside gathered in the Catholic church, 
and afterward assembled in the market square. After 
twenty-four days of smishine, a heavy shower in the night 
had cooled the air, and we felt quite energetic as we walked 
down the steep paths, between high walls, to the Franciscan 
chiuxh. Alas! we were not early enough to get inside. 
The congregation overflowed at each of the doors and fol- 
lowed the service devoutly, holding up their hands with open 
palms at the Adoration, and at the Elevation touching the 
forehead to the earth. The air was so stifling that I couU 

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not stay within six feet of the entrance, for it issued in 
great, heated waves from that mass of hmnanity; but they 
all looked very clean, and the white garments had a cool 
appearance, even if made of wool 

Inside the church, the men unwound their red turbans, 
and flung om end over the left shoulder. As they came 
out into the simUght, they made an eflfective picture in all 
the postures of turning and winding them around their 
heads again. After service many women went entirely 
around the altar on their knees repeating a prayer. We 
entered to see the skeleton of poor Tomasewitch, the last 
king of Bosnia, who was cruelly put to death by the Turi^s 
in 1493. He lies in a ^ass cofiin above a wooden slab 
inscribed with his name. 

FoUowing the crowd through the shady streets, we came 
out on the market-place, and here I grew bokler and bokler. 
Evidently these good people had no objection to the camera, 
for they posed with childh'ke eag^mess. Some ooe near by 
would translate for me, and I was so busy turning my spod, 
I scarcely had time to kx>k up and thank him before another 
subject still more beguiling appeared. 

The scene was most diverting; the people themselves 
enjoyed the opportunity for a pleasant chat, the women 
seemed to be more on an equality with the men, and cer- 
tainly they were openly admired by them in many cases. 
A boy selling doughnuts strung on a stick called his wares 
in sweet, minor tones. Some giris were buying shoes, others 
were laden with cotton ck)th. There were Spanish Jewesses 
wearing the unbecoming cap which distinguishes them; 

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aiid many gypsies at their traditional craft of begging. The 
women were lavishly bedecked with jewehy, necklaces, 
belt buckles, rings, and head bands; often they wore an 
oval silver box on a chain around their necks. In Cyprus 
this would contain a prayer, in India the betehiut. Both 
men and women had drawn-work and embroidery on their 
shirt sleeves, and beaded opanka on their feet. Girls of 
the Greek Church let their hair hang in long braids, while 
those of the Roman wound then: braided tresses about their 
heads. A lady in black satin Turkish trousers, short, fitted 
jacket, and a dose black cap was evidently of the higher 
classes. The town men in their black silk trousers trimmed 
with dark red, tight below the knee and opening over the 
trim shoe; a sash of yellow or red; a blue, short jacket 
braided with red over the soft embroidered white shirt; 
and wearing the red fez jauntily, have a well-set-up appear- 
ance. The older men sport wider sashes and splendid 
turbans. 

''I am so tired and so warm — do let 's go back to the 
hotel and rest/' said the Gentle Lady in pathetic tones. 
So "back to the hotel" we went, — and "rested" during 
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CHAPTER XXVn 

JAJCE TO BANJALUKA— ON TO BOSNISCH-NOVI 

''DANJALUKA/' repeats the Leader, half to himself. 
''What an Asiatic sound the word has!" 

''Like Bokhara, Belgrade, Bucharest. They mean to 
me fine rugs and embroideries, and that is all." 

"Well, to-morrow we go on to Banjaluka. It is only 
forty-ei^t and a half miles and a famous ride." 

It is cool and bright when we leave the bewitching dty 
of Jajce, with its gbrious waterfall, and passing under 
the gateway follow the Urbas toward the north. At a stone 
bench under a pollarded oak a short ways out we tiun back 
for a last kK)k. From the lofty castle the battlement wall 
extends down the hillside, enclosing the low-roofed houses, 
the minarets, and the big white Franciscan chinch and 
monastery, in the midst of trees and gardens, just above the 
narrow, rushing river. 

The road is in excellent condition without any dust and 
shaded by cherry and walnut trees, blossoming locusts and 
the white hawthorn. After crossing the river the cUSs 
of creamy stone draw nearer and nearer, the spangled fields 
disappear, and we enter the gorge. The genista hangs its 
yellow flowers over the brown-streaked rocks, the mountain 
ash is in its native haunt, and beyond a magnificent beech- 
tree we stop to light the lanterns, for an iron bridge leads 
into a curving tunnel. Two faint specks appear in the dis- 

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tance, marking the centre of the curve. We are very ^ad 
not to meet anything in that reverberating darkness. 

As we emerge a man hastily takes off his coat and 
covers his horse's head to keep it from seeing us. The 
comers are sharp and we blow the horn in warning, going 
cautiously. Many water trou^ are placed along the route 
for the refreshment of man and beast. 

The precipices now are so sheer that the road enters this 
second gorge through a short tunnel, and on our left a tiny 
mill is placed over a small cascade which tiunbles into the 
rapids of the Urbas. Here hug^ beeches and locusts, lindens 
and maples, willows and the fragrant walnuts, cover the 
cliffs below the rocky heists and fill each bit of earth 
beside the stream. The elder is in blossom, and masses of 
wild flowers, yellow, purple, and white, carpet the ground 
under the big trees. 

The Ugar River joins us on the right and, beyond the 
road leading to Omarsko on our left, there is a striking 
view of great gray crags rising sheer and seeming to dose 
the way. Slipping around the over-lapping points we 
see on the height the hug^ ruined castle of Boou: and 
beside us the inn, — the half-way house, where the diligence 
from Banjaluka to Jajce daily halts for three-quarters 
of an hour. 

Gradually the cliffs become lower and the open country 
smiles upon us, the green fields and scattered farms of 
Aginosek). Then another mountain wall looms ahead and 
we plunge in, still following the way made by the rushing 
Urbas. Close to its rocky bed we keep, for there is no 

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other space. Walnuts and lindens shade us from the sun, 
clematis twines and spreads over low bushes, many birds are 
seen and heard, and above us are ever the towering crags. 
We meet peasants walking, dressed in attractive creamy 
wool, bound with leathem belts studded with coins. They 
are driving horses for whom we wait until they make up 
their minds to pass us quietly. 

Suddenly on the height ai^)ears an okl watch-tower, 
another and a third, completing the ruins of Krupa's castle, 
which on the other side of the cliff reserves itself into a pic* 
turesque whole. They say there b an inn at Krupa, but 
we did not see any likely (dace to stop. 

At the end of a broad valley, another old castle, with 
vine-draped walls, the Zwecaj-Grad, guards the entrance 
to the wiklest part we have yet seen, — the Tjesno Gorge. 
The mountain walls approach so closely that the road is 
blasted from the overhanging rock, a huge cave on our right 
echoes with our rumbling progress, and it is with a feeling 
of relief — to me at least — that we emerge from these 
depths and cross the Urbas into Jagaie and Karanovac. A 
woman, with peacock feathers in her cap, looks at us curi- 
ously from the bazaar. We re-cross the river and soon after 
enter the uninteresting, long, straggling street of Banjaluka 
and turn in at the hotel entrance. 

Imagine horse chestnuts planted so closely together that 
not a ray of sunlig^ can penetrate, clipped high enough to 
permit peofde to walk about comfortably underneath them; 
imagine these trees in blossom and the birds singing; im- 
agine small tables set with dean linen in the grateful 

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shade; imagine delicious tiout, fresh asparagus^ — and a cool 
breeze with the coffeel That is what awaits us in Banja- 
hika. What a joy to again take our meals out of doors! 

Do we miss the view of the roaring river Urbas? Not at 
all. New costumes on the women claim our attention; 
queer country carriages — Heaven save the mark! — go 
rattling by; and an orange vender wanders in, a flat basket 
on either arm. Might I kodak him? He almost blushes 
with delight. He is n't exactly handsome, and shows his 
blackened teeth in as fodish a grin as any maiden of sixteen 
could ftunish. Mysteriously enou^ there are no flies or 
distiurbing insects — at least in sight. 

Banjaluka is in a flat plain, the streets are broad, and 
the sidewalks are beautifully shaded with locusts and chest- 
nuts now in full blossom. They are kept sprinkled, and it 
is a delight to walk in the cool arch of greenness. 

^'I never heard of a fort here, but there at the end of 
that side street is something that looks like an old wall. 
Woiild n*t you like to go down that way?" 

Half reluctantly we leave our cool shade to walk even for 
a short distance in this white glare of simli^t, but as we 
turn a comer against the green trees in a gap of the ancient 
fortifications, we behold a moving mass of red fezes. What 
can it be? We go nearer and discover hundreds of young 
peasants in their holiday attire, gay with embroidery and 
overlapping coins, before the entrance to the barracks. It 
is a brilliant scene, — evidently a conscription. As they 
stand in groups, or play a game of ball, or lounge upon the 
sward under the big trees, the play of light and shade is 

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wonderful. Only two women are to be seen, and those are 
both old. This experience does much to redeem the little 
town in our eyes. "For it must be confessed the name is 
much more Oriental than the place," remarks the Enthusi- 
ast at dinner that evening. 

"There is no view, there is nothing to be seen. There 
is only comfort and coolness and the fragrance of flower- 
ing trees." 

"We are spofled perhaps," answers the Gentle Lady. 

" If we had come here first before seeing Mostar or Jajce, 
or even Sarajevo, doubtless we should appreciate it more." 
For Banjaluka is distinctly ambitious and bears an aggrava- 
ting air of prosperity. One has to hunt for the fast depart- 
ing bits of its old rigime. Its younger inhabitants are 
adopting the hideous clothes of civilization, and the blocks 
of new buildings are a sore trial to the lover of the pictur- 
esque. However, the country people, — Heaven bless 
them! — with their fringed trousers and sheepskin coats, 
their gay sashes and embroidered waistcoats, are still to be 
seen in abundance, bringing then: produce into the city in 
quaint wagons of woven basket-work. 

At Banjaluka no nightingales above a rushing river keep 
us from sleep. But another and different sound awakens us 
in the morning, for the workmen here have no foolish preju- 
dices about beginning their labors at seven o'clock. If a 
fence needs repairing, whether under one's window or out 
in the open, by six o'clock the man is hammering nails with 
a vigor and vim worthy of a later hoiu:. However, we mean 
to get an early start to-day, as we are not sure of the 

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conditions on these northern Bosnian roads. Indeed, the 
route we are to take as far as Prjedor is not marked 
upon our map. 

It is market-day also at Banjaluka, and as we start out 
we become thoroughly convinced of this, for the way is 
lined with groups of men and women coming toward us. 
Again the costmnes differ from any that we have yet seen, a 
long white tunic embroidered on the front and sleeves, belted 
with a wide piece of bead work, and finished with a deep- 
fringed bead bag hanging across the back. The hair is 
parted in the middle and smoothed down behind the ears 
under a white close cap, worn on the back of the head and 
trimmed with a strip of cross-stitch embroidery. Some 
have deep borders of red on their head-kerchiefs and a 
few have dark blue aprons, but both men and women 
look immaculately clean, and the women's figures are 
trim and slender in contrast to the heavier outlines of the 
Jajce peasants. 

At a near cross-roads we turn to the left, for the post 
reads plainly "to Prjedor," and imdemeath locusts and haw- 
thorn, with an occasional white birch, we speed over the 
rolling hills. Charming views of grain fields surrounded by 
wattled fences alternate with copses and the whole is en- 
veloped in a thin blue haze. The meandering road is smooth 
and the friendly landscape restful after the moimtain scenery 
of yesterday. The sun is hot, but the air delicious. Under 
a grove of weeping birches in a damp hollow, finely cut 
ferns are growing in profusion. Farmhouses, with thatched 
out-buildings, are scattered along the roadside. 

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"What a nice little country road!" comments the Gentle 
Lady, "so much more comfortable than the dusty highway." 

"Have you noticed, we have n*t seen a single Turkish 
house since leaving Banjaluka?" asks the Enthusiast. 

"This must be a Catholic section, I suppose," answers 
the Gentle Lady. 

The many culverts remind us of our roads at home; we 
look at them askance; they seem so insecure; but although 
the boards often squeak and rattle, we always cross in 
safety. A woman's bright yellow head-kerchief reflects the 
sunli^t as she guides a horse and harrow across a distant 
field; larks are singing and a hawk soaring overhead; mag- 
pies flash by us; and we cross the railroad again, near the 
station for Ivanjska. 

The grades over the Kukovica Saddle are rather steep, 
but short, and the whole effect of the countryside resembles 
Wisconsin more than any region we have seen for a long 
time. To be sure, we miss the countless lakes, but the many 
small streams keep the landscape green. A big Catholic 
church in a grove of trees with no houses near, but sur- 
rounded by sheds and booths with wooden tables and benches 
seems to indicate a centre for a number of scattered hamlets. 
Men are busy ploughing the fields with oxen and horses; the 
houses look well kept, the people prosperous; we see in the 
barnyards sheep, horses and cattle, goats, turkeys, chickens, 
ducks and geese; — and at a sharp bend in the road we 
confront a big black buffalo and her calf! 

A road to the left leads to Omarsko, and we pass Cikalo- 
vac, where the cherries are green on the young trees and the 

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wild roses axe in bloom. How graceful the outlines of the 
locust branches heavy with their fragrant white tassels! 
A minaret rises above the treetops; latticed houses hide in 
high-walled enclosiures; henna-stained children appear; — 
it is Kozorac. 

How incongruous the large Catholic church at one end of 
this rambling Turkish village ! We meet several companies 
of the awkward buffaloes, but strangely enough they are 
not afraid of the automobile. The road is rougher, dustier, 
and more used than before we reached Kozorac. Yoimg 
orchards extend on either side of us and men in European 
dress are inspecting them. The workmen, too, are in the 
garb of civilization. We hear something about "Grerman 
colonists" from the front seat. Great fields of headed 
wheat bend in the southern breeze. 

A man standing in the middle of the road waves his hand- 
kerchief frantically. We stop and the Leader gets out to 
investigate. A small bridge is down and we must ford the 
stream. Preferring to walk across, we dismoimt, and while 
laborers arrange planks on the stones for us, they prepare 
a comparatively safe crossing for the automobile. Down the 
steep cutting, and into the soft mud, plunging on to the 
planks in the swift running water, and safely up the other 
side goes our skilful chauffeur with the car. I really believe 
that car could climb the steps of the Capitol if it were 
necessary! 

"Did you notice those men had checked turbans?" asks 
the Enthusiast, as we are going merrily on again. "They 
looked as if they were a kind of gingham." 

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"No, I didn't notice," confesses the Grentle Lady; "I 
was looking at the automobile." 

At Prjedor we come to the raihxuui again and cross- 
ing it, traverse the rambling town with its church and three 
mosques, its Turkish houses, and a very good-looking hotel. 
The road twists across the plain, following the Sana River. 
Grape vines are trained on lattices to the second story of the 
houses; vibumam alnifolium blossoms in the hedges, un- 
doubtedly wild; and just beyond Brezicani we cross the 
railroad again. Meeting a team, the frightened peasants 
halloo for us to stop, carefully imhamess the horses and lead 
them into an adjacent fieki where they stand patiently wait- 
ing for us to go on; but the road is so narrow with ditches 
on either ^de that the abandoned cart completely fidls it. 
They soon recognize the situation, however, return, and 
back away the cart. 

"Any more motors coming?" they frantically ask, evi- 
dently thinking we are the advance guard for the Austrian 
Automobile Club. We reassure them while the horses never 
move an ear, but watch us calmly from the field. 

Crossing the railroad again near Dragotinja, we get an 
exhilarating spin over a good bit of road. The sim is grow- 
ing hot; there is not a cloud in sight. Green hillsides and 
low forests are on our right, and beside us the shallow Sana. 
Our way is like an English lane; through fields of yellow 
iris and buttercups, alternating with grain. The houses are 
arranged with the stable below and an overhanging second 
story for the family. 

Huge log rafts on the river are very picturesque; men 

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stand in front with oars^ and one at the back steers as the 
swift current carries them on; occasionally a canopy of 
branches is arranged somewhere amidship for a passenger. 
At Bosnisch-Novi we cross the Sana, which here flows into 
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CHAPTER XXVni 

LEAVING BOSNIA — PLITVICA LAKES 

DOSNISCH-NOVI is dose to the frontier of Croatia, 
and a road leads from there ahnost directly north to 
Agram; but we are bound for the Plitvica Lakes first, so 
we make inquiries about getting to Bihac for the ni^t. 

"Why, certainly, the road is good, a motor-diligence goes 
every day up the Una valley via Krupa-" 

That sounds most encouraging. We decide to follow 
this road. 

Generally there is an old and beautiful tree in the court- 
yard of a mosque. It may be a tall cypress, a spreading 
sycamore or linden, a huge oak or a graceful palm, accord- 
ing to the climate; but it b always tenderly nurtured and 
well repays its care-takers with cool shade and dappling 
shadows against the fountain walls. Over the mosque at 
Novi two great lindens lift their towering branches, — but 
our admiration is cut short by a fearful noise and rolling 
clouds of dust. The natives do not seem astonished or per- 
turbed, — it k nothing but the daily diligence, — "a motor- 
diligence," they proudly add, as slowly it comes groaning 
and puffing along the highway. 

Knowing well that this huge broad-tired affair, which is 
a cross between a Black Maria and a steam roller, could 
traverse the rocky bed of a mountain torrent without much 
discomfort to the occupants, we do not feel that its presence 

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necessarily guarantees good roads; but we set out merrily to 
try our fate. 

The green valley of the broad Una River is almost im- 
bearably hot, and as we progress the ruts grow deeper and 
the stones more numerous; but the kilometer posts are well 
kept up and plainly marked. Wooded hillsides rise on our 
left, the Una's rapids on our right; and a succession of 
wagons and carriages pass us. We feel we are leaving the 
Orient when the ugly slouch or straw hat appears on men's 
heads. 

At the Turkish village of Otoka we stop on the bridge to 
kodak a mill; and just beyond the railroad to Cozin en- 
counter a covered wagon carrying many men, the back care- 
fully curtamed off for the women. At sight of the auto- 
mobile the men leap to the ground; but the poor women 
only crouch down together imtil the shying horses are quiet. 
I suppose if the cart tipped over they would make no move 
but go unim>testingly into the ditch; — it would be Kismet! 

Beyond Podvran, Krupa and its castle come into sight. 
We cross the Una again, turning sharply to the right in an 
attempt to follow its serpentine course, and are relieved to 
pass the up-going motor diligence, which is waiting here. In 
the shut-in valley, where the green slopes overlap, the heat 
is intense, the route stony and rough. The peasants carry 
red and blue umbrellas to keep off the sun's rays, as they 
march stolidly along. The wooded hillsides grow into gray 
crags, steep and high; the river keeps close to us all the way. 

The route from Krupa to Bihac, recently "improved" 
in order to avoid the long climb over the Drenovo Pass, lies 

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through a beautiful gorge, where the deep green river quietly 
pursues its course between masste of rock and great forests. 
Strange new wild flowers, pink and white and yellow, 
carpet the cool shade; but the road-bed, — the road-bed is 
enough to make a mere motorist weep! Gradually the 
cliffs step back, but still the palisades rise on either side. 
At the gateway the precipitous heights are imposing; then 
the river broadens, and a curious mud deposit forms small 
islands in its midst. 

On a crag across the Una, connected with the highway 
by a gate-house and a bridge, rises a large building like a 
French chAteau, with mansard-roof and pointed towers 
in an enormous walled enclosure. Strangely out of place 
it looks in this wiklemess, and I long to know its history. 

^'Probably it is a restoration,'' asserts the Leader. 
'^There may be a village near, for I can see the top of a 
minaret on a hei^t beyond. Is it Brekozica?'' 

At Pokoj we leave oiur hill-enclosed valley and take a 
straight road across the plain to Bihac. On our left the 
ruined castle of Sokolac crowns an eminence and the Hjese- 
vica Mountains bound the horizon. 

The hotel at Bihac is very plain, but dean, and the food 
good. What could one ask for better than brook trout, fresh 
vegetables, and delicious cake ? My room, a front one, and 
double, with two windows, is marked fifty-eight cents a day. 
To be sure it has no carpet, rug, or even a piece of oilcloth 
on the floor, but the boards are scrubbed and the linen 
spotless. We take a walk in the twili^ under the avenues 
of blossoming chestnuts to the old Mohammedan cemetery, 

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where the tombst(»ies, all neatly straightened and white- 
washedy give an individuality to the charming, shady park. 
The air is delightfully cool, filled with the fragrance of the 
white locust. A nightingale, in a tree above our heads, 
sings his whole rtpertoire in delicious abandon. 

Bihac is yet quite unaccustomed to the tourist, the men 
touch their fezes as the stranger walks by and the little 
girk pass with the pretty salute, ^^KUss die Hand.^^ Three 
small victorias go by the hotel. In the first ride two men, 
the older with a turban, the younger wearing a fez. The 
two following carriages have white lace curtains drawn 
tightly before the hood ; on the tiny front seats are two chil- 
dren, but crouched in the back sit the women. 

From a closely latticed house, in a court opposite my 
window, emerges a young Turkish gentlemen, dressed in 
pale gray clothes, after the English fashion. His fez be- 
trays him, however, and as he saimters into the street he 
nearly runs against a cow that turns in at the same gate 
and calmly enters the same narrow door of the house through 
which he has just come. 

The coimtry carts go rattling merrily by my window 
before five o'clock. Why do they need bells to add to their 
ahready deafening din ? No wonder we toot the small horn 
and the big horn and the suen in vain, — only the sharp, 
keen whistle of the chauffeur finally penetrates throu^ 
that racket. 

Bihac, our last Bosnian town, is at the base of the PljeSe- 
vica Moimtains, up which in the early morning we begin our 
gradual ascent. Herds of cattle are feeding in the grassy 

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meadows of this green valley; catalpas and flowering locusts 
line the way. Descending to cross a shallow brook, we 
climb again into a higher, but still cultivated plain, where 
men are ploughing; then turn through wooded hills, with 
wonderful views m the clear atmosphere of the heights. The 
air grows cool as we reach the old fortress of Zegar, where 
a new building is filled with soldiers; and in a few moments 
we come into Zavalje, the first Croatian village. 

We notice aheady the change in costimie. The women 
wear dark skirts with black velvet sleeveless jackets, some- 
times embroidered with gilt, over full white blouses; and 
yellow head-kerchiefs, the brighter the better. 

^'Are we going to climb those moimtains?" asks the 
chauffeur, nonchalantly, pointing to the great peaks rising 
beside us. 

"Yes," replies the Leader, "but at a point lower 
down." 

We are on the east side of the plateau of the Pljesevica, 
among barren, rocky moors, affording but scanty pasture to 
the many flocks of sheep and goats. The peasants tending 
them smile upon us and touch their red Croatian caps in 
courteous greeting. 

Past Baljevac we fly, merely noting that it is a typical 
moimtain village of log houses, sometimes whitewashed, 
with long shinned roofs, and only toothed, slanting boards 
standing in a blackened hole in lieu of chimneys. 

Turning a comer in the stony road, we come upon a 
pretty scene. A half-dozen men and women in a drde are 
holding a huge white cloth; in the centre a woman with a 

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sieve is kneeling; an old dame looks on gayly smiling, with 
a young child grabbed tightly m either arm. 

"They must be winnowing com," says the Leader. 

"What color and movement!'* cries the Enthusiast. 

Other women are carrying odd-shaped pails of water 
from the village fountain; lengths of homespun are spread 
on walled fences to bleach. 

At Petrovoselo we turn south by a post marked "U 
Priboj,'' and the road improves as we ascend; that is, there 
are fewer stones and no deep ruts. The prevalent dress of 
the men seems to be white tunic and trousers, blue sleeve- 
less coat, and red cap. We miss the twisted, brilliant sashes 
of Bosnia, for here the men wear no belts. 

Near the top of the pass we stop to cool the engine. Birds 
are singing in the stimted growth of alders and larches; 
among the boulders a cuckoo calls. Men and women are 
shearing sheep in a most primitive fashion; holding the 
struggling animal down with the knee and one hand, they 
dip great tufts of wool with the other. 

Priboj itself is twenty-two hundred feet above the sea, 
a rambling collection of houses, a post office, and a wayside 
foimtain. 

"Now we have twenty-five miles to go,'* sa3rs the Leader. 
And leaving the highroad down to Gospic, we turn to the 
right, going due west; and at the cross-roads still keep to 
the right, getting a pleasant view of brown plou^ied fields 
and of waving grain. Farmhoudes are sprinkled alcmg 
the way, and a larg? Catholic cemetery is beautifully placed 
at the edge of the forest. The bushes over the slopes have 

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a curiously clipped appearance up to a certain height. Are 
they eaten by animals, or cut for firewood ? 

As we near our destination the road becomes a boule* 
vard for smoothness, winding down through magnificent 
birch woods, while between the dancing leaves ^eam and 
glisten the peacock-blue water and foaming cascades of 
the Plitvica Lakes. 

I catch my breath in rapture I If these exquisite pools 
were anywhere else but hidden away in the moimtains of 
far Croatia they would have a world-wide reputation. The 
nearest point upon the raihroad is Ogulin, more than forty 
miles away; and Ogulin is seventy-one miles from Agram. 
Here in the midst of a dense forest of birches, two thousand 
feet above sea level, surrounded by green moimtains, are 
nineteen exquisite lakes of varying shapes, sizes, and levels 
connected by falls and cascades, each one of a different hue! 
Nothing has been done to spoil the wilderness, but conve- 
nient paths endrde the clear basins and rise to points of 
vantage upon the higher hills. It is a bird's Paradise, too, 
and the air resounds with their happy songs. 

The flora is wonderfully varied. Here seems to be the 
home of our cultivated perennials; columbines of a marvel- 
lous hue; centaurea, not only the bachelor's button, but the 
fring^ ones with the dark red centres; lilies of the valley; 
dandelions more like asters; violets, of course, and lupines 
in many shades; a fine yellow brassica and blue lobelia; al- 
lium Neapolitanum and baneberries; anemones of astonish- 
ing size and vigor; marsh marigolds and vipers bugloss; 
pink starry campion; rose-colored mint, something like our 

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self-heal, but with flowers nearly an inch long; the gay 
yellow tufts of the anthyllis and the bird's-foot trefoil, 
or lotus comiculatus; the gorgeous sulphur-colored cheiran- 
thus; our own pink ragged-robin; the eflEective rosy flowers 
of the polygonum bistortaj which has fourteen English 
names — perhaps Patient Dock is the most pleasing; the 
majantheum bifoliumj or two-leaved lily of the valley, ex- 
actly like our Canada May-flower; the plantago media, 
with its spike of bright pink petals. Think of a plantain 
being desirable! Unlike our dull, beady blossoms, this 
variety is a joy to behold. Here is a thrifty blue-branching 
campanula; an ethereal morning-glory with fine-cut silvery 
leaves; a rich blue salvia; a splendid violet vetch; the 
curious yellow beUs of the cerinthe major j or wax plant; the 
fragrant three-flowered laburnum, or cytisus trip>rus; pink 
meadow rue and orchids; — the yellow ladyVslipper in 
abundance, the showy orchids and the delicate green haben- 
aria orbiculata, an odd little nodding flower rising from its 
whorl of leaves like the pogonia verticillata, the dainty 
white cephalanthera, the wonderful pink military orchis, 
and, queerest of all, the insect-like ophrys family, — the 
spider-shaped, the bee-shaped, the fly-shaped. They are 
most appropriately named. 

Many are the hours I spend hunting new species; every 
inch of forest turf seems to hold a secret and invite explora- 
tion. One morning, as we sit above the Lake of Galovac, 
birch-trees framing deep pictures of the falls, and at our 
feet strange wild flowers in such abundance and variety that 
I despair of ever learning their names, I ask, — 

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^^What do you see in this small bit of earth, say four 
feet square?'' 

Lowering his eyes from the distant landscape, my com- 
panion concentrates his attention. "Well, — I see men 
have been chopping wood here/' 

I laugh outri^l I had n't noticed the chips. 

"Anythmg else?" 

"Nothing but weeds," he insists. 

I stoop and pick half a dozen sprays of exquisite brown 
and greet! tiny orchids, and hold them up for his admiration. 

"They are n't pretty at all. They look just like black 
bugs crawling up the stem!" but that they are extraordi- 
nary he has to acknowledge. 

Strangest of all, in this far-off forest grows the Conopho- 
lis Americana^ or squaw-root, which I have never found 
anywhere except in our native woods. Great birch-trees, 
three or four feet in diameter, lie prone where they have 
fallen; if in the water, they are soon covered with a velvety 
growth and ^eam like silver beneath the siurface. Ferns 
in endless variety and beauty cover the groimd and fringe the 
cascades; the maidenhair quivers in the soft breezes; and 
beside the rushing torrents, hang ivy and thick grasses. 

Spruce-trees and hedges of bridal wreath, with mar- 
guerites and geraniums, adorn the grounds of the hotel, in 
rather startling contrast to the surrounding wilderness. 
This building was put up by a club of Agram gentlemen who 
take turns at managing it. The season has not yet begun, 
a preoccupied bride and groom being the only other guests. 
We know that the Croatians are intensely patriotic and cling 

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tenaciously to their tnother-tongue; — but we are hardly 
prepared for the extent to which they carry it here. All 
the room notificationsi the announcements, the time tables, 
the bill-of-fare, even, are printed in that Slavic language. 
The only bottled water obtainable is tagged with the, to us, 
formidable cognomen, '^Jamnicka Kiselica''; but it tastes 
like our Poland water and so thoroughly satisfies us. The 
steward is the only person on the premises who even imder- 
stands German; the boatman, who ferries us across Lake 
Kosjak, knows no language but Croatian, and when we 
wish to make excursions along the beach into pools where 
water lilies grow, all explanations have to be by gestures. 

The bath-houses at the pier are built into the water, so 
that if one wishes to swim in the open lake it is necessary 
to dive imder the wooden partition; but the crystal 
water looks very tempting, and in the early morning a 
frequent splash and merry shouts betray the presence of 
appreciative souls. ' 

Later on a gypsy fire flamed upon the shore, and a huge 
boiler, — not at all a romantic object, — stood upon it; 
but the gypsy women, in their brilliant gowns, made a 
dashing picture as they spread the clean white linen on the 
bushes and yoimg trees. 

Half in my dreams, one morning, I heard a haimting 
melody, — just three or four phrases of a part song, — 
which came nearer, then slowly died away in the distance. 
In the evening again I heard the sweet refrain; and, looking 
out, saw groups of men and women returning from the fields 
with rakes and spades over their shoulders. Their bright 

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yellow and white kerchiefsi and their red caps shone in the 
last rays of the low sun. The chant was not sad nor in a 
minor key, but full of joy and cheer; and they walked with 
zest and rapidity, not betraying the least fatigue after the 
dajr's task. As one group passed, another to^L up the song, 
— each seeming to await a certain moment in which to 
begin, — so that over and over the harmonious tones blended 
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CHAPTER XXIX 
TO AGRAM AND MARBURG 

YT is an exquisite day of sunshine and south wind when, 

reluctantly, we leave the luminous Lakes of Flitvica; 
leave the roaring falls and tumbling cascades, the birds and 
wild flowers, the glorious forest, — and turn our faces 
northward toward Agram. 

Over rocky hills covered with a stimted growth of bushes, 
passing the road to Saborski and taking the one to the right 
for Dreznik, we follow the Korana River on its way bom 
the lakes to the sea. The road is very dusty, occasicmally 
sprinkled with fresh stone, and an endless line of horses and 
oxen drawing empty wagons are upon it. Patient peasants 
toil up the slopes carrjong pails and barreb of water from the 
river; for every field, however steep, is carefully cultivated 
and the Korana is the only source of irrigation. 

A church steeple in a small town before us indicates 
Dreznik. At times we ride in the grateful shade of big 
trees, but as a rule the highway is unprotected and the sun 
beats down upon it unmercifully. 

Near the cross-road to Rakovica shepherdesses with 
fingers busily knitting smile gleefully upon us; a teamster 
wearing an elaborate brass-studded belt and a sheepskin 
coat over his white clothes salutes us awkwardly as we speed 
by. A magnificent linden sheltering a poor log house; a 
cemetery on a hill, with many curious wooden crosses; 

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crested larks and black and white wheatears are part of the 
swiftly changing scene. 

At one of the scattered farmhouses beyond Rakovica, 
the peasants are having their breakfast out of doors, or say, 
rather, their second meal; for it is half-past nine and they 
break their fast with the rising sun. No wcHKier they have 
five meals a day! Further on, amidst rocks and bracken, 
alternating with grain fields, a wayside well surrounded by 
stone curbing makes a background for a group of children; 
the boys doff their red caps, the little girls bend bom the 
waist in a quaint curtsey. 

'^What a charming picture!" cries the Enthusiast. 

Near-by are women with l(Hig-fringed dark bags hung, 
knapsack fashion, &om the belt across the back. Still 
winding over hilltops we enter Bredzovac, where, making a 
tong bend, we cowe to the Korana River again, now swdlen 
into quite a stream, but retaining its peculiar greenish-Uue 
odor. Here, again, men with flattened barreb on their 
backs and women with pails upon their heads are canying 
water from the stream two hundred feet below. 

Passing throu^ Slimji, with its ruined castle, we cross 
the river at an island of picturesque mills, over foaming 
cascades, and then down th^ stream to the left on the way 
to Veljun. The pink hawthorn is in flower, and the bracken 
a foot high, but half unfolded. Fields of bluish barley and 
green wheat just coming to a head; or acres of brown earth 
where oxen, in teams of four, are at the plough; a rather 
monotonous landscape, but there is alwa]rs a bird to watch, 
a tree to name, a distant church spire to wonder about, or 

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an open-mouthed goat-herd to salute. The children up to 
five years of agie wear but one garment. The cart horses, 
at sight of us, instantly take to the fields or the ditch, al- 
though it is not the diunb animals who are afraid, — it is the 
peasants behind them. 

''Another family around the festive board/* exclaims 
the Enthusiast; — literally a "board," with a bowl in the 
centre containing the food, and, beside it, a loaf of bread. 
How it must simplify housekeeping not to have to set a table 
or wash a dish! As we fly by the boys' school at Blagaj, 
they swing their crimson caps with a concerted, spontane- 
ous yell, and we respond with fluttering handkerchiefs. 

Beyond Veljim, we coast down a long straight hill, with 
glimpses of a gypsy camp by the wayside, more elaborate 
crosses in a church yard, and yellow iris beside a brook. We 
are boimd for Kmjak and the posts every few kilometars 
assure us that we are drawing nearer. A smiling face is 
framed in a small square window as we stop to permit six 
loaded wagons to go by. 

" Do you realize that we have n't seen a single so-called 
English sparrow in Croatia?" remarks the Enthusiast 

"No, I had n't," answers her companion. 

" Do you suppose — " 

At that moment, from a big barnyard, a flock of those 
same saucy creatures fly across otir path, — and we can 
only look at each other in mutual dismay. But the ditches 
filled with buttercups and daisies; the meadows with tall 
nodding hare-bells and yellow iris; the scariet poppies undu- 
lating in the wheat; the brook bordered with the American 

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way-faring tree (viburnum ahn folium) — all these gladden 
our eyes until we pass Knijak, and Earlovac (in German, 
Karlstadt), where we are to take luncheon, makes its appear- 
ance on the sign-posts* 

Crossing an iron bridge over the Radonja River we come 
to the Korana again, just beyond Tusilovic, where boys 
splashing in a mill-pond fill us with envy; for the highway 
is bare and dusty, rough and shadeless, and the air fright- 
fully hot. Over a small pass, where wild roses and pink 
dover comfort us, we have om: first view of Karlovac, — 
and a road thronged with gorgeously costiuned peasants, 
for again it is a market day. We simply crawl through the 
suburbs of Mostanje, Ubinja, and Rakovac into Elarlovac; 
for the streets are filled with people driving sheep, pigs, 
goats, and cattle back to the coimtry. In carts and on foot, 
the gayly dressed natives, — apparently unmindful of the 
intense heat of noonday, — go stolidly about their affairs. 
Some of the women are decked with elaborate necklaces 
of overlapping coins, others wear a heart-shaped sort of 
breast-plate covered all over with the coins, like spangles; 
curious frames support the head-dresses; the skirts are 
embroidered in red or blue cross-stitch, and the taut 
ensemble is most striking. 

How grateful the peace and coolness of that upper 
chamber in the crowded hotel! 

^^Yes, this unusual heat,'' says the landlord, ''has 
lasted for two weeks. We are hoping for a change soon.'' 

From the shaded windows we watch the throng, and once 
or twice I clutch frantically at my kodak as a more than 

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usually picturesque group presents itself; but the heat is 
so terrible I really do not dare to venture out^ioors. Here 
we rest until three o'clock and then set out for Agram, only 
thirty-six miles away. 

Through the Oriental-looking shoe market, over the 
broad Kulpa River, across the railroad, we take the first 
road to the right. In the maze of animals, wagons, and peojde 
we are obliged to go very slowly and often to stop; but the 
way is broad, if somewhat rough, and the surrounding 
coimtry charming. More meadows extend beside us, filled 
with buttercups and clover, or poppies in the fields of grain; 
if a swamp, 't is yellow with velvet iris; if a grove, brilliant 
with camping gypsies. A company of geese hiss their dis- 
approval with one accord, coming at us with outstretched 
wings. No cowards, they! 

Through Mrzljaki and Jazvad and Petasse, small vil- 
lages in a prosperous plain, we cross, beyond the side road 
to Krasic, the Kupcina River; and soon after enter Jastie^- 
barsko. Here is a compactly built, comfortable little town, 
with a pretty park and many shops. 

On leaving Jastrebarsko we descend into a woodsy g^n, 
then out again on a broad, smooth road, passing throu^ 
the hills. The sky becomes overcast and near Klincaselo we 
are rejoiced by a small shower, — sufficient to lay the dust, 
yet not enough to spoil our view, for soon we can discern 
the spires of Agram's cathedral, eighteen kilometers away. 
Beyond Rakovpotok, at a cross-road, we keep to the right 
through Stupink and Lucko, where the long well-sweeps 
remind us of Italy, — and the rain ceases. 

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The roads approaching all large cities are sure to be 
worn and rough and this one b no exception; but deep red 
peonies bloom in cottage gardens; the hedges are white with 
elder blossoms, and great sprays of wild roses intermingle 
with the ivory flowers. HiurryingbyBlatoandRemetinec,— 
crossing the Save, — we are in Zagreb, or Agram, as for- 
eigners call it. 

We are surprised to find here in the capital of Croatia 
an attractive dty with fine public buildings; a characteristic 
market square, a shaded promenade in the upper town, and 
a fine cathedral; — not to omit an excellent hotel, where all 
the fruits of civilization are vastly appreciated, and where 
we feast on a special kind of sterlet, only found in the Save 
River. While at limcheon one noon on the shaded terrace, 
a postman approaches our table with a big automobile tire, 
well-wrapped, hung carelessly on his arm, and offering the 
Leader a bit of paper asks if the tire is for him. Yes, this 
is the one telegraphed for a few days ago. The bill having 
been paid, the obliging postman carries the heavy ring up- 
stairs to our apartment and we again laud the convenience 
of the parcels-post. 

Probably one cause of the modem appearance of Agram 
is the earthquake of 1880, which partially destroyed the 
city. The uf^r town retains some flavor of antiquity, 
although the thirteenth century church of St. Mari^ has a 
roof of brilliant tiles outlining the arms of the province, 
which appears to be new. Near here is the Palace of the 
Governor, or Ban, of Croatia ; — how interesting the okl Slavic 
titles are! In the Kapitel Stadt is the Ck)thic CaUiedral of 

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the fifteenth century, with two splendid spires restored 
within the last ten years. Close by is the fortress-like 
palace of the archbishop, with round towers on each 
comer. 

The Croatians are especially proud of the educational 
opportunities which are here offered to the student. In- 
stalled in elaborate buildings are the Francis Josef Univer- 
sity, its chemical laboratory, a Natural History Museum, an 
Agricultural Society, and the South Slavonian Academy of 
Science; besides good preparatory schools — the instruction 
being in all cases in Croatian. The shops, the street signs, 
even the performances in the fine theatre, are all in the 
native tongue and no other language is imderstood. Although 
politically Croatia is at present a province of Himgary the 
two peoples hate each other as only neighbors of alien 
races can. 

There are usually enough country folk in the busy streets 
to give individuality to the town; the women in full plaited 
or short-banded skirts, with plenty of beads and gay head- 
kerchiefs; and the men! — the combination of wide, white, 
fringed^ short trousers above high boots, with a long apron, 
embroidered sleeveless jacket, and tiny rimless black slouch 
hat, is too absurd for words. 

With a red umbrella under one arm, an embroidered 
reticule slung over the shoulder, these peasants frequently 
walk all night to the nearest market town. Small wonder, 
perhaps, if by the next night they succumb to the tempting 
convivialities of the dty, and seek the shelter of a convenient 
ditch until able to continue their homeward jaimt. We 

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saw many instances of this failing and were told that the 
good-natuied Croatian is peculiarly prone to this form of 
relaxation. 

It is very hot in Agram; even at night there is little 
freshness in the air and we are longing for the north; so 
after two days we leave the Croatian capital, and follow the 
valley of the Save to Samobor. The road is good, although 
narrow and unshaded; the house roofs gay with fancy tiles, 
sometimes the date, occasionally the man's name, outlined 
in huge letters. Many gypsies are en route and in a shallow 
pool a boy and a girl are gayly washing pigs, — preparing 
them for sale, perhi^, — for at Samobor itself we saw 
our last picturesque market. Here the peasants' cloches 
are snowy white, with brilliant embroideries and kerchiefs 
and beads! 

Passing Luc and Jazbina and Podvrk, we come to Bre- 
gana, and leaving Croatia, enter Styria. Instantly the style 
of house changes and the pretty costumes vanish. Here 
the people wear u^y dark slinky calico gowns, and hideous 
shapeless hats in place of the gay Croatian kerchiefs. For 
nearly two months now we have seen only quaint and be- 
coming costumes and the change to the garb of so-called 
civilization is a distinct shock. 

The road, however, is much better, beneath pines and 
spruces by the river's brink, with an endless variety of wild 
flowers; it offers us compensations and restores our droop- 
ing spirits. By the cJUUeau of Reichselstein and cottages 
variously decorated with stripes and crude drawings, we 
cross the Save at Rann; and here another low chdteau, with 

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three round towers and vine-draped fofode^ attracts our 
admiration. 

At Gurkfeklt, — one long broad street of houses, shops, 
and churches, — we turn to the right and fdlow the narrow 
valley of the Save again. This river, which in the course of 
its IcHig career serves as a boundary between Croatia, 
Slavonia, and Bosnia, is here broad and still, with picturesque 
rafts of lumber, guided by men at either end. Schloss 
Neustein rises on a height at the ri^t; cm the left the bank 
is clothed with fragrant woods, sprays of pink honeysuckle 
clamber over hedges of elder and viburnum; apple wchaids 
alternate with clover fields and patches of flowering beans; 
— it is an adorable winding way, the sky overcast, the air 
so heavenly cool. On we go through a beech forest and an 
avenue of luscious locust; beneath spruces and feathery 
larches; past Radua, stopping only to gather some of the wild 
flowers which border the river's brink; then by Verhovo and 
Hottemesch with their thatched haystacks green with moss. 

At Steinbruck, leaving the Save, we cross one of its 
tributaries, the Sann, and foUow it to Cilli. The Sann, too, 
seems a favorite waterway for lumber rafts, as it flows 
strong, swift, and deep, between high-wooded hiDs. The 
rich blue salvia in the fiekls reflects the hue of heaven, and 
the fragrance of the locust is overpowering. 

''This is the kind of a road I likel'' exclaims Madame 
Content, apropos of nothing new. It is a sort of glorified 
cowpath, smooth and shady, wandering around the foot- 
hills, or occasionally running up to the door of a farmhouse; 
passing tempting lanes into deep forests; by optn windows 

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gay with brilliant flowers; and at last entering the stately 
and famous chestnut avenue at Rdmerbad. We speed 
gayly up the winding stream, noting with surprise haymows 
ornamented with large wooden crucifixes; others have a 
kind of pavilion in front, with a grape-vine trained over it. 
A white church with an ^' onion'' steeple stands conspiaious- 
ly at a bend in the road, and, across the river, on our right, 
we see Tuffer's ruined castle. 

How charmingly the Germans lay out their summer 
resorts! Here at Kaiser Franz Josef Bad the hi^^-dii^ied 
locust hedges smround beautiful gardens; many paths are 
marked in the forest; and if one is amUtious for a steep 
dimb, the Humberg (1920 feet) is at one's disposal. 

Soon, on a wooded hei^, aiqpeaxs a battlemented don- 
gonkeep, still guarding a crumbling castle. It is the ruins 
of Ober-Cilh, and crossing the Sann by a tdl bridge, we 
enter the town of Cilli. Although this was one of the cokm- 
ies founded by the Emperor Claudius (A D. 54), it bears no 
evklence of its great age. Its museum omtains some Roman 
antiquities, but its charm lies in its beautiful environs, its 
river paths, and mountain views. Our hmcheon is served 
under the shade of manunoth chestnuts flourishing in the 
pebbly pavement and aiqparently enjoying the im)tection 
catered by the walls of the two-storied courtyard. 

At Cilli we leave the river Sann and go due n<»th^ 
through hop gardens watered by the Kfitting toook, with 
sj^ndki views of the Steiner Alps still covered with snow. 
It is a comfort to have excellent roads again, and a respite 
from constant sunshine! 

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^* My Baedeker has lots more in it than yours, any way" ; 
I venture to reply when its fat, tied-up sides threaten to 
give way and cause contemptuous mirth among the other 
members of the party. 

'^Such a looking book!'' jeers Madame Ccmtent 

"Why do you carry it ?" demands the Leader. 

"For a herbarium," I frankly reply; and the conver- 
sation ends. 

At Hohenegg a rang? of dark blue hills encloses the wide 
valley on the north, and we turn to the right over a broad, 
but not dusty highway, bound for G<Hiobitz. Passing 
Castle Stemstein on an adjacent peak, the road bordered 
with apple-trees, winds through the forest, following a 
rippling brook. Flying through a more open valley, the 
near green hills swiftly become blue in the distance; beyond 
Tepanje heavy clouds throw purple shadows on forest-dad 
heights, where a white church lifts its slender spire. 

We get charming landscapes from each new hilltop 
between Preloge and Windisch-Feistritz. How familiar 
the fringed pinks in the cottage garden, — the windows are 
gay with flowers, geraniums and fuchsias, marguerites and 
cacti, even oleanders in the bays. 

We have come out of the clouds, here, and the sun is 
shining over the wide valley as we pass Kdtsch, hurry 
through Wochau with its magnificent avenue of old lindens, 
beneath the isolated peak of St. Urban, — and enter 
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MARBURG — GRATZ— THE SEMMERING 

"^TOW that we have entered a country where there is a 
choice of roads, the Leader spends even more time 
poring over maps and hunting for sights worth seeing along 
the way. Sometimes he asks politely: ''Where shall we 
stop to-night ?" — hoping that some inspiration may suggest 
the most interesting spot en route. Once the Gentle Lady 
answered from her heart: ''I think it woukl be real nice if 
you could find a little inn by a small river with trees all about 
it; a clean, quiet place, where there will be no one but our- 
selves and, of course, good things to eat." 

"They must n't keep chickens, for they are so noisy in 
the morning," added the Enthusiast, "and — " 

"I suppose the inn must be in a garden, away from the 
dusty highroad, and no waterfalls must disturb the peacel" 
sarcastically interrupted the Leader. 

"And the windows must have heavy curtains to shut 
out the morning glare," went on placidly the Gentle Lady, 
half seriously. 

"Well, I think we shall be far more apt to encounter my 
ideal than yours," said the Leader, in a tone of finality. 
"What we really want is a great cathedral, a splendid 
chdteaUf an historic ruin, a mediaeval building, a famous 
painting; — what matters the rest?" 

"But to-morrow night we will be up in the mountains, 

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ifon^t we ?" asked his companion, with an air of putting 
aside all those earthly Tories. 

^^YeSy but I think we will stop at Gratz for luncheon/' 
And there was a twinkle in his eye which, to the initiated, 
toM of ^^si^its" to be seen. 

Church bells woke me early the next morning, then the 
sound of moving footsteps on the flagged streets, and rush- 
ing to the window I witnessed a bit of mediaeval life, very 
charming in this prosaic age. For over an hour, long files 
of men and women, priests and nuns, schoolboys and girls, 
bearing banners of varying degrees of size and beauty, 
marched slowly throu^ the streets of Marbiug, chanting 
in unison. 

''What is it?" I asked the little maid. 

''It is a procession," she gravely responded. "To-day 
is Monday, — they will be going on all this week." 

"But why?" I persisted. 

"It is the month of Mary." And she looked her surprise 
at my ignorant questionings. 

On the broad river Drau, or Drave, rise Marburg's red 
roofs in the midst of waving green; for its wide avenues are 
[danted with chestnuts in quadruple rows and each tiny 
walled garden overflows with vines and shrubs. The quaint 
market-place retains its charm of age and the newly laid-out 
Stadt-Park, with its flowery meadows and shaded lanes, 
seems a bit of the real country preserved for the dtfs use. 

Over a smooth highway, lined with apple-trees and 
bordered by vineyards alternating with clover fields, orchards, 
and hop plantations, we bowl gayly northward. A growth 

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of young forest trees covers the low hills, where neat [faster 
houses with broad thatched or tiled roofs peep from the 
shade. The temperature is perfect, — sunshine but cool 
air, — so that once more we have donned our coats and 
waterproof dusters* Near Strichowetz we meet an immense 
load of broraa-com tied for the factory. The shrines are 
very beautiful on this hi^way; one of faded pink stucco 
is shaded by rosy hawthorn branches; another twined with 
wild roses and damboring honeysuckle. 

Crossing the Mur, we stop to kodak an attractive seven- 
teenth century chdkaUj with an adjacent chapel, and get 
our first view of the Schwanberg Alps. It is difficult to 
resist culling an armful of wild flowers, they are so abund- 
ant; — purine larkspur and buttercups, yellow and white 
daisies, wikl carrots and a kind oi branching dandelion 
twelve to twenty inches hi^; a pinkish and lavender scaln- 
osa; all sprinkled through tall grasses and nodding in the 
soft air. But the smooth straight road is too attractive, the 
motion too enticing. Speeding through Kkinwagna, across 
the Mur again, with cmly a glance at Leibnitz, we hurry 
along, and — to our surprise, meet an automobilel To 
this we are totally unaccustomed and we sk>w down in dis- 
gust, until its trail of dust shaU have passed! 

<<On this idain once stood the Roman city, Flavium 
Scdvense,'' remarks the Leader. ^^Near Leibnitz they have 
found many fragments and inscriptions. It mig^ be inter- 
esting—" 

But our persistent silence puts a damper upon this sug- 
gestion and we proceed up the valley of the Mur, dimb 

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over a small ndge, and descend to the summer resort of 
Wildon. Up its one steep street we mount, sliding down to 
the Kainach River; the hills recede and in the fields men and 
women are spading. The cottages have quaint legends 
inscribed so all may read, — "Gemtttliches Heim,^' "Frol- 
iches Heim/' in large letters on the gables, — and near 
them stand tall poles, each topped with a bush or a tree or a 
banner. Are these last in honor of the Kaiser's jubilee; 
or only the usual May-poles? On one house is a tablet: 

F. J. S. 

1879 
I. H. S. 

A travelling show goes by us; the camel looks his accus- 
tomed weary self and quite disdains our noisy flight; the 
monkeys make faces and chatter from their cage; but evi- 
dently the entire company are quite used to automobiles. 

White clouds are gathering about the horizon and snow 
can be seen on the Schwanberg Alps. By Rattsdorf and 
Ledem we crawl carefully along, as the valley is so thickly 
populated as to form an almost continuous village. The 
road has become rough and muddy and we meet companies 
of artillery on the way to field-practice ; for Gratz is the cap- 
ital of Styria and has a garrison of 5100 men. It b a cheer- 
ful and attractive little city on the Mur, and I am sure one 
might be very comfortable in its "Hotel Elephant"; also 
it has enough "sights" to interest a traveller for three days, 
at least. 

But we were not sightseers that day; we had frankly 
joined the ranks of motorists only; — and we refused to be 

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beguiled into museums and art galleriesi or led to heights 
for 'Wonderful views." The shelter oi the shady terrace 
where we had our luncheon satisfied us completely; only 
the Leader, indefatigable and untiring, went bravely forth 
and "did" the town. 

On his retiun he was genuinely enthusiastic and reported, 
besides an excellent modem dty hall and museum, a six- 
teenth century building called a Landhaus, or Hall of the 
Estates, with a beautiful Renaissance fofode. "Adjoining 
this is the Arsenal, or Zeu^us, buik in 1644, kept exactly 
as it was at that time and filled with weapons of the period. 
In the Imperial Palace there is a curious spiral staircase, 
done in 1500, and in the cathedral, six exquisite ivory reliefs, 
Italian work of the sixteenth century, representing scenes 
from Petrarch's 'I Trionfi.'" 

When the Leader paused to take breath, we almost 
su^^sted stopping over. ''There are two libraries, also, -^ 
one in the Museum Joanneum of about 140,000 volumes, 
including a collection of rare books; the other in the Uni- 
versity, of 190,000 volumes. Besides the Kaii Fran2 Uni- 
versity, with 1750 students, there is a Technical College; 
and in the Historical and Industrial Museums are old Styrian 
rooms, completely furnished, of 1564, 1577, 1596, and 1607, 
with the travelling carriage of Emperor Frederic in. and 
the double litter of Spethan Bathoiy, King of Poland, and 
his wife. You know he died in 1586. In another part 
of the buikiing is a very good exhibition of modem Styrian 
art industries." 

Bythis time we were speechless with regret ^Tromthe 

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Schlossberg the view is superb and the crumbling fortifica- 
tions, overgrown with wild flowers, extreinely picturesque. 
Constructed in the fifteenth century as a protection against 
the Turks, they were blown up by the French in 1809, after 
a garrison of five hundred Austrians had defended the place 
against three thousand French for four weeks." 

''I read that in Baedeker," interrupted the Enthusiast. 

''You can see the enormous dock-dial on the hill, as we 
ff> out," continued the Leader, contenting himself with a 
reproachful ^ance at the scofifer, '^but we must come back 
to Gratz, some day, and enjoy leisurely its fine collections." 

''Yes, some day, when it is cool," assented Madame 
Content. 

"Now for the mountains!" quoth, gleefully, the Enthusi- 
ast, as we leave Gratz, bound for the Semmering. Almost 
due north we go, close to the river, where, on this twenty- 
fifth of May, women are raking hay in sunny fields. Long 
tassels of curied shavings hang over the doors of the country 
inns; a curious survival of the "bush." Crossing the Mur, 
we enter a narrower valley, where an ejccellent bicycle path 
lies under the apple-trees. We meet fine big draft horses 
in elaborate harness, with long strips of bright doth, orna- 
mented with brass insertions, hanging from the collar. 

Beyond Peggau the road is very bad, — rutty and stony; 
the castle of Rabenstein, on the other side of the river, is a 
dreary, common-place building. Not so, however, the ruins 
of Pfannberg, rising from the depths of the forest, with its 
square tower and octagonal donjon. We enter Frdmleiten 
through a beautiful avenue of chestnuts and fiivl it a charm- 

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MARBURG — GRATZ 

ing little resort, with well-laid-out paths up the forest-dad 
hills. Beyond, the air is sweet with s^mice, gray crags rise 
into the blue sky, and snow appears upon a farther height. 
Closer and closer grow the cliffs and the precipice of Rfithel- 
stein looms on our right. 

After passing Mixnitz we look curiously for '^the Amer- 
ican's chdieauj^ and discern a comfortable square house, 
with suimy terraces, inviting woods, and, doubtless, beauti- 
ful views down the winding valley oi the Mur. 

Above Pemegg the overlapping folds of the wooded 
slopes shut us in; the clasping filers of the dematis reach 
up from the tangled hedges; nearer and nearer come the 
snow mountains. At Bruck we note a fifteenth century 
Gothic church and the open loggia of the old ducal palace, 
built in 1505 and called the Kommesser-Haus. 

Here we cross the Mm: and leave it, ascending the valley 
of the Mtirz. Through Kapfenbmrg, where a wonderful 
pink May is trained over a h^ gate; by Hafendorf, where 
the road improves, as there is less heavy teaming; and on 
to St. Marein through a wider valley. Quantities of wild 
barberry, mountain ash, and pear trees are in blossom; 
houses are scattered over the slopes; through the long, 
broad, treeless street of Eindberg; through Wartberg, with 
the ruins of Lichtenegg Castle on a hill across the Miirz; — 
we come to Schloss Pichl's towers quite near the river's 
brink. 

We have climbed so gradually that we are siuprised to 
find at Mittendorf we are abeady 1935 ^^^ above the sea. 
Gratz is 1135 feet and Marburg 880 feet. The valley is 

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still broad, enclosed by pointed, pine-covered hills, and a 
constant succession of village enlivens the way. Queer 
yellow streaks upon the mountain side among the spruces 
show where barkless telegraph poles lie ready to slide down 
to the river for transportation. 

We pass Langenwang, with the ruined castle of Hohen- 
wang on our right. At Mdrzzuschlag the white lilacs vie with 
the horse chestnuts for our admiration, and after passing 
Spital-Rettenegg we enter the region of apple blossoms 
again. The station of Steinhaus lies below us as we leave 
the railroad and begin the final climb to the summit of the 
Senmiering. The air is really cold, patches of snow whiten 
the hillside; but the road is excellent, with carefully pre- 
pared grades, until we make one last steep turn and reach 
the Hotel Panhans at the top of the Semmering Pass 
(3520 feet). 

Do the moimtains really bring one nearer Heaven, or 
do they only seem to? Do the birds' songs soimd sweeter, 
are the trees a brighter green, do the wild flowers nod more 
gayly, and b the air more heavfly laden with the delicious 
fragrance of the balsam and the fir, or is all this mere imag- 
ining? As I lean from my balcony and look over this 
wonderful prospect, I cannot help asking myself these 
questions. Far in the distance, below the piled-up thunder- 
caps, I can just distinguish a winding stream amid low 
grassy hillocks; — that way lies Vienna and our morrow's 
joumeyings. If one could but leap from motmtain top to 
mountain top and live always upon the heights 1 

"Do you remember owe uncertainty about enjoying 

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Dalmatia?'' asked the Gentle Lady that evening, as she 
idly turned the leaves of her illustrated diary. 

/'Indeed, I remember well," confirmed the Enthusiast, 
''and how mention of the Herzegovina and Bosnia brought 
only visions of bandits mid rocky fastnesses! ''Just think, 
it is (mly about six weeks, to be exact, 46 days, since we 
left Trieste—" 

"And we have gone 2253 kilometers, or 1408 miles," 
added the Leader looking up from his notebook, "and have 
stopped in 35 towns." 

"As you look back what pictiuie comes first to your 
mind?" persisted the Gentle Inquisitor 

"I don't know," answered the Enthusiast, "that Good 
Friday at Zara, I fancied, nothing could be more brilliant 
than the mass of the Morlacchi, but think of the Montene- 
grin imiforms at Cetinje!" 

"And Mostar," she prompted, "when the Herzegpvin- 
ians in their soft white veils and creamy costumes floated 
over the ancient bridge!" 

"And Jajce," I continued, "at the Franciscan church, 
— what variety and richness of garments on both men and 
women! And so many himdreds of theml Perhaps that 
was the crowning scene. If a person should come blind- 
fold the whole distance from America, and see but these four 
cities, he ought to feel richly repaid for his troublel" 

"Are you forgetting the extraordinary landscapes we 
have looked upon?" corrected Her Ladyship. "That 
first sunset over Dalmatia, from the Velebit Mountains? 
How about the Riviera of Ragusa and the Bocche? Surely 

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that climb over the Lovcen into Montenegro has not slq>ped 
from your memory, or the Prenj Alps from the Ivan Pass 
just the other day^ or — " 

'' Stop, stop/' I cry ; ^^ no one of them have I fcargotten, nor 
many, many more. It is as impossible to compare pe<^ 
and scenery as a portrait and landscape in art. My brain 
is filled with pictures. At the word Trebinje, — I see 
trousered Turkish schoolgirls fl)dng in every direction at the 
sight of my kodak; Travnik, — strange canqpied tombs on 
the way to a hot bazaar; Jablanica, — a lovely garden and 
the splendid Turk who made and brou^t our coffee; 
Gacko, — snow mountains, seen through an atmosphere 
— of onions; Mostar, — novel and varied costumes on 
pretty women; Ilidze, — fragrant woods and moonlight, 
with many nightingales; Jajce, — more nightingales above 
a roaring river." 

We kx)k at each other with the keen appreciation of 
kindred souls in a reminiscent mood. Each fascinating 
scene, each happy day has a special comer in our memories, 
and with the utmost satisfaction we recall the interesting 
experiences, the wonderful scenery, the picturesque peofde 
which have made this motor trip in the western Balkans 
over the highwajrs of Dalmatia and Montenegro, the Her- 
zegovina, and Bosnia one continucnis delight. 

The End 



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INDEX 



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INDEX 



Abbadetta (or Gomilica), Castel, 103 

Abbaxia, 98, 3i-34t 3^ 

Adriatic Sea, 34, 25, 98, 138, 145. i97i 

198, 258 
Aginoaelo, 986 

Agram, 39, aQSjJo'* 303f 3o6f 310-313 
Agram BicM (HxA^ Zagreb), Zengg, 

Alban Hills, 90 

Albania, 77, 199, 166, 900, 909, 998 

Albanian Alps, 909 

Albanian Colony, 77 

Albanian costume, 909 

Albion* leader ot tbe Lombards, 30 

Almissa, 198 

Almissa, bay ol, Z96 

Almissan corsairs, 196 

Alpine chalets, houses which resemble, 

958 
America, what it means to natives, 49, 

54, 131. ai9 
American roads, 160 
American ships in Trieste harbor, 91 
American's cluttsow, near Miznits, 393 
Andreis, Castel, 103 
Animals, conduct 01, on meeting motor 

car, 30, 49, 51, 56, 58, 69, 84, 194, 

195, 197, 134, X77» 179. x8o, 190. 

191, 195, 196, 198, 987, 993, 996, 

308.3*0 
Antivan, 904 
Apennines, the, 91 
Apothecary shop founded in 2307, 

Ragusa, 150 
Aqueduct of Diocletian, 116, 190 
AquileU, 91, 73, 76, 17a 
Aibe, island of, 34, 50, 78 
Area in San Simeone, Zara, 71 
'* AigoQf," derivation of, 168 
Arione (Ombla) River, 143 
Asseria, ruins of, 89 
Assumption, feast of the, celebration 

of, 187 
Aurea, Porta, Spalato, 104 
Austria, war between Venice and, 48; 

Zara under rule of, 74; Clissa under 

rule of, 119; Dalmatia province of, 

x6o; Ragusa Republic and, 168, 269; 



Bosnia and the Hersegovina an- 
nexed to, 995; improvements under 
rule of, 996, 960; Grats defended by, 
399 

Austria, Hotel, Metkovic, 136 

Austrian admiralty, 105 

Austrian Automobile Club run, 935- 

238. a93 
Austrian dty, Trieste an, 91 
Avars, the, 30, 85, 117, 179 
Avtovac, 931 

B 

Babindub,64 
Baccari (Bakar), 40 
Badua, iq6 

Baedekers guide, 91, 89, 283 
Bakar, 40 
Baljevac, 999 

Balkan ProWnces future "happy hunt- 
ing grounds of the motorist," 97 
Bands, militaiy, Ragusa, 275, 276 
Banja, 297 
BanjaJuka, 985-992 
Baptistery, Spalato, 222, 229 
Barbaric customs, survival of, 240 
Baigello, Florence, 209 
Bavo, sm Bua, island of 
Beau2nont, Marshal, 299 
Begovich, Mehmed, paiSui of Albania, 

Belgrad (Zara Vecchia), 93 

Belgrade, 985 

"Belle Vista,*^' Gravosa, 244 

Bells rung at unusual hours, 208 

Benedictine abbey of San Gioigio, 293 

Benedictine refuge, Bua, 209 

Benkovac, 90, 82, 89 

Berlin, treaty of, 904 

Biagio, St, patron saint of Ragusa, 249, 

Biba,82 

Bihac, 995-998 

Bflek, 997, 999 

Bfliane, 80 

Bfljardo, old paUce, Cetinje, 903 

Birds, fearless, 95, 96, 39 

Bielalovac, 969 

Bjelasnica, mountain range of, 956 



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Black Mountains, 204, an 

Black Sea, 258 

"Black WaUachs" ("Mauio Vlach") 
— theMorlacchi, 68 

Blajaj, 239, 241, 308 

Blaue, St, sse Biagio, St. 

Blancard, General, 129 

Blato, 311 

Boa, see Bua, island of 

Boaic, castle of, 286 

Bocche di Cattaro, 27, 168, 171, 172, 
174, 178, 180, 181, 184, 187, 198, 212, 
21$, 216, 218, 219, 326 

Bogomile stones and traditions, 251, 
252, 261, 273 

Bokhara, 285 

Bootjacks on chairs, 35, 36 

Boraia, the, 95 

Borak, Mt., 126 

Botgo Erizzo, 77, 81 

Borovod-Novaaela, 135 

Bosna River, 259, 263, 267 

Bosna Valley, 259 

Bosnia, no road maps of, 27; Uscocs 
driven from, 48; Dinarian Alps on 
boundary of, 61 ; Zara under, 74; cos- 
tumes ol, 107, 300; Clissa under, 119; 
Naienta River a highway from, 138; 
natives of, settled on Mt. Sergio, 148; 
early kings ol, 181, 271; under Turk- 
ish rule, 224; annezed to Austria, 225 ; 
under Austrian rule, 226; roads A, 
226, 269; Bogomiles in, 252; frontier 
of, 256, 258; one of most heavily 
timbered countries in Europe, 259; 
mills of, 270; tombs of viziers of, 
2^2; one-time chief city of, 272; last 
king of, 283; Save River on bound- 
ary of, 314 

Bosnisch-Novi, 294, 995 

Botticelle, Punta di, 105 

Bradina, 257 

Bransevina, 49 

Bravadc, Villa, 161 

Brazsa, Canale della, 108 

Brazza, island ol, 100, 119, 124 

Brdjani, 257 

Bredzovac, 307 

Bregana, 313 

Brekozica, 297 

Brela, Mt, 127, 128 

Breno, 178 

Breno, cascades and mill of, 178, 220 

Breno, Valle di, 177-179, 222 

Bieslovsko, 269 

Brezi&ni, 293 

Bribir, 83 



Bribir» counts of, 83 

Bribir, Ponte de, 83 

Bristol, Hotel, Zara, 65 

Brooms made from spiky smilax, 33 

Bruck, 323 

Bua, island of, 102, 1 19 

"Bua, milk of," etc., 104 

Buccari, Bay of, 40 

Bucharest, 285 

Buffaloes, 291, 292 

Bulf;aria, Uscocs driven from, 48 

Bulic, Professor, 1 16 

Buljan, Restaurant, 84-86 

Buna, source of the, 239, 240 

Burdens borne by women, 29, 33, 42, 

43, 47, 166, 199, J07 
«Bush,^' survival of custom of the, 322 
Business methods contrasted, 266, 267 
Busovaca, 270 
Byzantines at Zara, 73 



Ca^*, 21 

Cairo, 225, 248 

Cambio or Kambelovac, Castd, 103 

Camera, posing before the, 87 

Camerlengo, Castel, Bua, 102 

Canali, Val, 220 

Cannosa (Tristeno), 142 

Capital punishment in Ragusa, 169 

Capodistria, 21, 28 

Caritk, Porta della, Ragusa, 151 

Carlopago, 47 

Carob beans, 114 

Cashmere, Vale of, 209 

Cassis in road, 48 

CasKHie, Monte, 193 

"Castelli, wineof the,"etc., 103, 104 

Casteh&uovo, 29, 103, 171-174, 181-183, 

196, 217, 218, 239 
Caatua,3i 

Catacombs, Jajce, 282 
Cathedral, Amm, 310-312 

" Sebenico, 91, 93, 94,151 

" Spalato, 110-112 

" TraCk, loi 

" Zara, 68, 70, 71, 89 
Cattaro, 172, 173, 188, 191-196, 203, 

212, 213, 252 
Cattaro, Bishop of, summer r e si dence 

of, 187 
Cattaro, Gulf of, 193, 196, 213, 214 
Cega, Castel, 103 
Ceirnica, fort of, 230 
Cetina River and Falls, 126-128 



330 



Digitized 



by Google 



INDEX 



Cednje, 171, 188, 189, 900-903, 305- 

joo, an. ai9, 395 
Chanes Robert, King of Htmgaiy, 83 
Charles V., 169 
Cherso, island of, 31, 49 
Chimies, in the Riviera, 19 
Chioggia, 99, 74, 78 
Choir stalls of medieval churches, 109, 

no. III 
Christian village house, tvpe of, 959 
"Chrisfs^Thom," 913 
Cikalovac, 991 
Cflipi, 180 
Cflh, 314, 315 
Ciovo, see Bua, island of 
Cippico, Cariolanus, 103 
Cisasitch, 51 

Civita Castellana, fortress of, 91 
Claudius, Emperor, Cilli founded by, 

ClMa, 48, 119 

CUssa, fortress of, 116, 118, 199, 194 

Colors, intensity of, 67 

Comadnes, the, 119 

Communale Palaao, TraCk, loi, 109 

Conscription at Banjaluka, 988, 989 

Consonants, curious combinations of, 
in Slavic names, 84 

Constantinople, 995 

Constantinovich, Count, of Servia, 903 

Cori, 90 

Cornelio, Archbishop Andrea, 119 

Cornice, comparison with the, 43, 149 

Corso, Ragusa, 153 

Costumes, native, 93, 30, 31, 33, 34, 
SI. S3. S^t ^. 68-70. 85, 90, 99. 100, 
106, 137, 140, 141, 147, 156. 157. 
166, 177, 178, 198, 901, 909, 906, 
996, 998, 999, 93s, 949, 943, 946, 
947, «49. «5o. «^ ^St a^. ^77. 
a8j, 984, 987-990, 996, 999, 300, 306, 

_ 308, 309. 3". Z^Z 3*5 

Co«tage legends, 390 

Cosin, 996 

Cfhkest Italian, 99 

Crkvenka, 90, 42, 49 

Croat document, oldest, ip3 

Croatia, no road mi^ of, 97; mountains 
and lakes of, 99, 301 ; roads into, 31, 
30,199; roads of, 39; favorite resort 
of, 41; the Karst in, 44; characteris- 
tic cap of, 47, 51, 999; typical farm- 
bouses of, 50; English language 
unknown in, 53; pass between Dal- 
matia and, 59, 60; Zara under rule 
of, 74; boats from, in Zara harbor, 
74* 7^; under Coant of Biibir, 83; 



frontier of, 995; patriotism in, 303; 
capital of, 311, 313; educational in- 
stitutions in, 319; a Hungarian prov- 
ince, 319; Save River on boundary 
of. 314 

Croatian Alps, 39 

Crown Prince of Montenegro, 179, 909- 

905, 907, 908, 911 

Cyprus, custom of wearing prayer in, 

984 
Cyprus, war between Venice and, 71 



of, ir 



Dabar, 51 

Dalmaie, II, Zara, 77 

Dalmatia, suggestion in 
location of, 18; maps and roads of, 
97; few raihroads in, 18; desirable 
season to travel in, z8; books on, 90, 
88; languages spoken in, 90, 76, 77, 
191 ; routes to» so, 91, 47, 63; dress 
of natives of, 93> S48; motor travelling 
in, 97; coast of, 39^ distance of 
frontier of, from Go^iic, 58; over the 
frontier of, 58-<>i, 63; northwestern 
peninsula of, 61; natives' attitude of 
apology for their frightened animab 
in, 69; the Morlaochi in, 68; finest 
fofode in, 71; religious observances 
in, 71; finest choir stalls in, 79; 
capital of, 73; comfortable accom- 
modations in, 75; much to surprise 
and perplex stranger in, 76; eitremea 
of civilisation in, 76; newspapers of, 
77; Zara only Italian municipality in. 
77; Baedeker's guide to, 89; ruler of 
(In Z947), 83; arts and sciences (six- 
teenth century) in, 93; no wild an- 
imals In, 97; work of native architects 
In, 109; Sak>na ancient Ronum cap- 
ital of, 104, Z17; Spalato largest dtv 
In, 105; early Illjrrian occupation of, 
107; exdUble nature of natives of, 
108; native boats in, 108; Emperor 
Diocletian a native of, 109; Italian 
influence in, isi; Marshal Beaumont 
commander under Napoleon In, 199; 
has but one dimensjon, 130; frontier 
between the Heraegovina and, 134, 
137. 139; onder Venetian rule, 137, 
167; ^farona one of three capitab of, 
138; characteristic cap of, 140; In- 
dividual life in towns ot, 159: political 
situation of, 160; nomenclature of 
natives of, 160; under Austrian rule» 
x6o, 169; appearance of, immmmft 



331 



Digitized 



by Google 



INDEX 



and interior, i6o; timber cat from, 
167; forestry plans of government ol, 
167; bay or gulf called Voile in, 179; 
rivulets unusual in, 180; part of, once 
held by Spain, z8i; mountains of, 
z88; Adriatic seaport ol, 196; route 
between Montenegro and, 904, an; 
ptettiest valley in, aaa; character ol 
country in upper, 333; safety of 
property in, aa5; differences between 
the Henegovina, Montenegro, and, 
354; appreciation of, 335, 396 

''Dalxnada, Guide to," Petermann, ao 

Danib 11., ol Montenegro, ao3 

Delia Robbias ol Empoli, ao 

Dinaia, Mt., ia6 

Dinarian Alps, 6z, 87, zoo, za8 

Diocletian, Z09, zzz 

Diocletian's a^^ieduct» sm mnd$r Aque- 
duct 

Diocletian's Fsalace, Spalato, Z05, Z09- 
zzz, ZZ3, ZZ7, zaa 

''Distances measured by time," $2 

DJett bishop, asa 

DobroCa, ija 

Doffonovd, a75 

Dolac, a70 

Dolce Grj, native dessert, 85 

Dolmali, 40 

Dolomite formation near Grabovica, 

as? 
Dominican monastery, Lacroma, Z57 
Dominican monastery, Ragusa, Z54 

Dragotinja, 393 

Dragu,39 

Drau (Drave), River, 3Z8 

Drenovo Pass, 996 

Drezanjka River, 2$$ 

Dreznik, 306 

Drijen, defile of, aa3 

Drin River, Z7a 

Duare, Z38 

Dubac, aaa 

Dubrovnik (Ragusa), Z67 

Duldgno, ao4 

Duomo, Pisa, 70 

Duomo, Ragusa, Z49» Z5Z, Z5a 

Durazzo, Z7a 

Dusina, Z34 



Earthquakes at Ragusa, Z69 
Educational institutions of Agram, 3za 
Elephant, Hotel, Gratz, 3ao 



Elizabeth, Queen ol Hungary (Z377), 7z 
Emilia, Via, az 
Empoli, ao 

En^and, maritime rival ol Ragusa, Z69 
English language, use ol, ao, 53 
English ships in Trieste harbor, az 
English tongue unknown in Croatia, 53 
Enterprising photographer of Selie- 

nioo, 90 
Epidaurus Sea, aao 
Epidaurus (Zara Veochia), Z7a 
Erizzo, Count, 77 
Ersegnovi (Caiielnuovo), z8z 
Esctuapius, Baptistery originally dedi- 

catea to, zzz 
Eugene, Viceroy of Italy, za9 
European MMpcct replacing Asiatic 

under Austrian rule, ate 



"F. J.I.,"ouUinedini 
tain slope, aa7 

Farttina, Canale di, 3Z 

Ferdinand of Austria, 48 

Figures oommoo to various la«iguages,55 

Fiume, 3Z, i8, 39 

Flavium Solvense, Roman City, 3Z9 

Fojnica, m 

Foinica River, 269 

Foligno, Z9 

Forestiy plans ol Dalmatian govern- 
ment, Z67 

Fossa, Zara, 78 

Fracasso, Francisco, tablet to honor ol , 
60 

France, Republic ol Foljica seized by, 
zas 

Francis Josef University, Agram, 3za 

Franciscan church, Jajce, a8a, 9^33, 

Franciscan church, Mostar, 348, 349 
Franciscan cloister, Ragusa, Z50 
Franciscan Farmada, apothecary shop 

founded in Z307, Racnisa, Z50 
Franciscan monasteiy, Bua, zoa 
Fransipani, the 40, 4X» 43. 4^ 
Franks at Zara, 73 
Frederic HI., En^teror, 3az 
French hi^ways, Z9, zo^, z6o 
French in Cliasa, ZZ9; m Grata, 3aa; 

in Zara, 74 
French occupation of Ragusa, Z69 
French ships in Trieste harbor, az 
Frohnleiten, 3aa 
Funeral, Ragusa, Z65 



33a 



Digitized 



by Google 



INDEX 



Gabiniana, Via» ii8 

Gacka River, 54 

Gacko, 12$, 226, a30-a37, 26S, $26 

Gacko, pUun of, aay, 230 

Galovac, Lake of, 309 

''Game" birds in Italy, 96 

Game on Narenta River, 135 

Games, children's, 342 

German colonists near Kosorac, Bos- 
nia, 999 

German language, use ol, so, 77, 121, 
256, 966 

German occupation of Zengg, 48 

German summer resorts, 3x5 

Giardino Pubblico, Zara, 74 

Gionchetto, 168 

Girls ol Ragusa, 154 

Giupana, height of, 141 

Glogosnica, valley of, 353 

Gold-thread woriL done by Turkish 
women, 279 

Goles station, 274 

Gomilica, Castd, s§e Abbadessa, Castel 

Gonobits, 316 

Good Friday celebration, Zaia, 66, 71, 

Gorasda, Fort, 196, 213 

Gorisia, Counts of, 31 

Gospi^, 47, ss-58, 300 

Government hotels, Gacko, Mostar, 
and nidae, 268 

Government trout-breeding establish- 
ment, 267 

Grabok Saddle, 238, 240 

Grabovac, 128 

Grabovica, 251 

Grabovo, battle of, 2x0 

Gran Kapella range of Croatian moun- 
tains, 99 

Grand Cafton, comparison with, 355 

Grand Hotel Bellerue, Spalato, 104, 105 

Grata, 318, 3>o-3>3 

Gravosa, 149-144, 146, 161 

"Great Defile," 953 

Grijic, — , engineer, 199 

Grobnica, pUm of, 80 

Gromeljak, 269 

Gruda, x8o 

'*Grilnen Strand," Zelenika, 217 

Gualdo Tadino, 21 

Gurkfeldt, 314 

Cusia, 249 

*'CiUen Tag^^ an ove r w ork ed saluta- 
tion, 3c 

Guvioa, Messer Andrea, no, in 



H 



Hadii6i, sawmills of, 259 

Hafendorf, 393 

Harem, visit to a, 978, 979 

Harness, native, 116, 997 

Henderson, Major, quoted, 947 

Henna-stained hair, 949 

Hersegovina, the, no road maps to, 97; 
routes into, 199, 138; mountains of, 
134; under Turkish rule, 137, 924; 
costumes of, 139, 155, 157, 260, 325; 
source of the Trebmjcica River in, 
143* V^y harnesses in, 176; capital 
of, x8i, 244; derivation of name of, 
i8x ; frontier of, 993, 956, 958; an- 
nexed to Austria, 995; under Austrian 
rule, 996; roads in, 996; Bogomiles 
in, 959; different fromDalmatia and 
Montenegro, 954 

Hodilje, 139 

Hohencgg, 316 

Hohenwang, castle of, 394 

Hohlbach's, Mrs., bookon Dalmatia, 20 

Holland, maritime rival of Ragusa, 169 

Holy Thursday celebration, 57 

Horses, conduct before motor car, ^o, 
49i 5x» 56, 58, 69, 84, i77» 179. i»o. 
190, 191, 195, 196, 198, 987, 993, 996, 
308 

Hotel de la VOle, Sebenico, 88, 89, 91 

Hottemeach, 3x4 

Hrusica,^o 

Hrvoja, after whom market-plaoe tower, 
Spalato, is named, 989 

Hum, hills of, 938, 943 

Humberg, the, 315 

Hungarian Lk^ steamer, 77, 78 

Hungary, seaport of, 39; Zara and, 
74; commerce between Ragusa 
and, 167; relations of Ragusa and, 
x68, 170; Croatia a province of, 312 



IHa,39 

Igalo, cemetery of, x8i 

Igman Plaidna, Mt, 258, 259, 267, 269 

Ika,32 

Ilidae, 259, 266-268, 326 

Illuminated waterfall near Jajce, 28x 

Illyrians, 73, 107 

nijrricum, ancient, 85 

Imotski, 129 

Imperial Hotel, Ragusa, 144 

Imperial Falace, Giats, 321 



333 



Digitized 



by Google 



INDEX 



India, cmtom of weftring betelnut in, 

384 
Inscriptions on cottages, 320 
Istria, peninsula ci, 37, 38, 68 
Italian art influence in Daimatia, loa 
Italian citv of Zara, 77 
Italian criches or prisepi, as 
Italian game birds, s6 
Italian language in the Balkans, so, 

70, 76, 77, lai 
Italian roads, 160 
Italian schools in Zara, 77 
Italian suburbs, 15^ 
Italian Touring Club, 18 
Italian well-sweept, 310 
Italians in Ragusa, 168 
Italy, conquest of (489 A. D.)» 30 
Ivan Pass, 355, 356, 358, 336 
Ivanka, 333 
Ivanjska, 391 



J 

Jablan, valley of the, 374 
tablanica, 354, 336 

Jackson (F. H. and T. G.), quoted, 70, 
71, 76, 83, 88, loi, 103, no, 113, 

143, i49» iS^f ^SS» i^ 
adar. Me Zara 
adran. Hotel, Bakar, 40 
adro River, 95, 104, 1 17-130 
afiare, 387 
ajce, 355, 359, 368, 375-386, 389, 390, 

3«5. 326 

amnicka Kiselica, bottled water, 304 
apanese taptct of Kosluk. 377 
astrebarsko, 310 
azbina, 313 
asvaci, 310 
ehovac, 369 

esuits, Society of, P6rto Re, 41 
ewess* cap, 349, 350, 383 
ezero, lake of, 380 
oanneum, Museum, Grats, 331 
urasevo Ulica, 33 



E 

Kainach River, 330 

Kaiser Franz Josef Bad, 315 

Kambelovac, Castel, see Cambio, 

Castel 
Kamenaritf 173, 174, 188, 191, 317 



Kapfenburg, 333 

Kapitel Stadt, Agram, 311 

Karanovac, 387 

Karin Lake, 61, 63 

Karin» Novigrad, and Vrana highway, 
81 

Karl Frans University, Grata, 331 

Karlstadt (Karlovac), 63, 309 

Karst, the, 4t, 44, 80, 83, 138, 300, 336 

Kastelj hill, 81 

<*Kate Grubfif, Gostiona," 119 

Katunska Ulica, Cetinje, 303, 307, 309 

Klhicie, 137 

Kerosene can water pails, 55, 195 

Kindbeig, 333 

Klanfari, 41 

Kleinwagna, 319 

Klek, peninsula of, 139 

Klincaselo, 310 

Klis(Clissa), 119 

Knin, 59, 63, 83, 8j, 87, 95 

Komadinaquella River, 353 

Komar Saddle, 374 

Kompolje, 53 

Konjica, 356 

Korana River, 306, 307, 309 

Kommesser-Haus, Bruck, 333 

Kosiak, Lake, 304 

Kosiuk, 377 

K5tsch, 316 

KflCting Brook, 315 

Kosica River, 370 

Kosjak^Mt., 117, 118 

Kosorac, 393 

Kraljevica, 40, 41 

Krasic, 310 

Krcma, 84 

Krisanje inn, 368 

Krivacko Zdrjelo, pass of, 199, six 

Krivosije, mountains of, 198 

Krifanje, inn of, 359 

Krka River, and Falls of the, 30, 61, 
86-88,91 

Kmjak, 308; 309 

Krstac grotto, 313 

Kxstac, guard house at, 31 1 

Krupa, 387, 39s, 396 

Krupa's castle, 387, 396 

Kseljak, 356, 369 

Kukovica Saddle, 391 

Kulpa River, 310 

Kumbor, 189 

Kumbor, Cajiale di, 184 

KupiBna River, 310 

**KUss die Hand/** an overworked salu- 
tation, 46, 365 

Kvarte, 56 



334 



Digitized 



by Google 



INDEX 



La Catene, 191, ai4 

Lacroma, 34> i45> i54. i57i 15S* ^^o, 229 

liadiilai of Hungary, 79 

Lakes, winter, 99, 80, 135, 180 

Lalla Rookh, 209 

Landhaos, Grats, 321 

Langenwang,324 

Ll^lMul, 161, 165, 223 

La Sponxa, mint and custom house, 
Ragusa, 150 

Lasva River, 270, 271, 273 

Latin nations make iise of expressive 
intonations, 113 

Leathern belts of Dalmatians, 23, 107 

Ledem, 320 

Ldbnits, 319 

Lepenica River, 259, 268, 269 

Lepetane, 192, 214, 215 

lift ce , 54 

Lesina, island of, 74, 100 

Libumia, andent, 82 

Tirhtenegg Castle, 323 

Lika River, 56 

Lion of St. Mark in Zara, 70; in Trad, 
100, 102 

"Ljecamica, Farmada, Apotheke," 
Ragusa, 150 

Ljubuski, 134 

Logria, TraQ, loi, 102 

Lombard invasion, 30 

Louis of Hungary, 167, 191 

Lovcen, Mt., 189, 193, 196, 198, 199, 
211,^26 

Love ol nature bond between all na- 
tions, 146 

Lovrana,34 

Luc, 313 

Lucius, andent historian, 102 

Lucko. 310 

Luksic, Caste!, see Vitturi, Castel 

Lussin, 61 

M 

Macedonia, 209 

Madonna deUo Scalpello, pilgrimage 

church of, 192, 214 
Masgiore, Monte, 31 
Mahomet II., war against, 103 
M a h o me t Pasa, mosque of, Mostar, 245 , 

246 
Mao steamer, Zara, 77, 78 
Malfi, bay of, 142, 143 
Mali Halan Pass, 20, 47, 60 
Biaka, KnigfaU of, 183 



Maltempo, canal of, 41 

Maps, 18, 20, 27 

Maquis, characteristic type of vege- 
tation, 55 

Maraschino wine district, 125 

Marburg, 316, 318, 323 

'* Maria Theresa," native ornament, 70 

Marina, Porta, Zara, 70, 73, 74, 78 

Marian, Monte, 105, 122 

Market-place, point of interest, 113 

M at h ias Corvinus, Hungarian king, 153 

Mausoleum, Diocletian's Palace, Spal- 
ato, no 

Maximilian, Emperor, of Mexico, 25, 

157 

May-day celebration, Ragusa, 176 

Medusa, curious marine creature, 185 

Me ia, 40 

Mekdolac, 63 

Meleda, hei|^ of, 141 

Meljine, 172, 182, 185, 188 

Metkovic, 20, 124, 134-138 

Messo, 141 

Michael, son of Prince Mirko of Monte- 
negro, 303 

Micheloeso, architect, 151 

Mills, Bosnian, tjrpical, 270 

Minoeta Tower, 177, 222 

Mirabella, castle of, 126 

Miramar, Chateau of, 25 

Mirinovo, 143 

Mirko, Prince, of Montenegro, 303 

Mittendorf, 333 

Mixnits,323 

Moesia, 30 

Mohanuned 11., 168 

Mohammedan cemeteries, 237, 240, 251, 
272,297,298 

Monotony replacing picturesqueness, 78 

Montagna, Canale della, 61, 63 

Montenegrin Alps, 230 

Monten^TO, no road maps of, 27; 
Albanians in, 166; route into, 173, 
194, 195, 204; mountains of, 180, 
i97> i93t i96> 333; national cap of, 
198, 201; royalty alone owns auto- 
mobiles in, 200; royal family of , 203; 
Servians founded, 204; army of, 204, 
309; recognised by Powers, 304; 
seaports of, 304; ruler of, 304; area 
of, 304; inhabitants of, 304; Turkish 
invasion of and defeat by, 310; capital 
of, 211; successful tour of, 221; 
differs from the H ers e g ov i na and 
Dalmatia, 254 

Morinje, 172 

Morlacca, the, 4^ 



33S 



Digitized 



by Google 



INDEX 



BioiUcdii people, 68, 78, iia, 335 

Morpolaca River, 8a 

Moako, a37 

Moslem leUgioD, 980 

Motor, Mt., 118, laa, 125 

MofUmje, 309 

Mostar, 235, 238, a4i-a5a» «68, 189, 

Motor car, coovenience of trayelling by, 

131, 133, 134, 160, 161 
Motor car, equipment of, 38 
''Motor diligence" up the Una valley 

viaKrupa, 395 
Mravince, 133 
Mrkan, rock of, 179 
Mrzljaki, 310 
Muezan oiU, 344, 380 
Muggia, 38, 31 

Mur River, 319, 330, 333, 333 
MOrz River, 333 
MOrzzuBchlag, 334 
Musk^ahUk work of Cairo, no 
MuslcEi River, 331 
Musicians, street, welcome among all 

Dcooles. xk 

N 

Nadin, Lake of, 80 

Nahaj Castle, Zengg, 46 

Names in two languagos, 30, 39, 45, 131 

Napoleon, Emperor, 41, 86, 139, 169 

Naienta River, 135, 136, 138, 343, 346, 

asa. «53. ^SS* aS^ 

NarenU valley, 338, 353 

Nan> (Naiento) River, 138 

Karodnl Dom inn at Castelnuovo, 30 

Narona, 85, 138 

Nathalie, wife of Prince Mirko of Monte- 
negro, 3QJ 

Necropolis Suburbana, Salona, 118 

Nehaj, Castel, sm Papali, Castel 

Neu-Bilek, 337 

J^eum, 139 

Neustein, Schloas, 314 

Kevennje, 337, 338 

"'New woman of Turkey," 156 

Newspapers, 76, 77, 366 

Niagara, falls of the Krka contrasted 
with, 88 

Nice, 19, 968 

Nicola 1., Prince, of Bdontenegio, 303, 
303 

Nightingales, 346, .364, 380 

Ninfa, 30 

NjCgUS, 199, 313 

Nocera, 31 



Nona, 61 

Norino, watch-tower of, 136 

Novi, 43 

Novigrad, 81 

Novignul, lake of (or sea), 6i» 63 



Obcina, 31 

Obed, 179 

Ober<:iili, 315 

Oborgi, 374 

Obrenovitch dynasty, of Servia, 303 

Obrovac (Obrovazso), 59, 63 

Oest Automobfl Club Auto-Bensin und 
Od Station, 53 

Ogulin, 301 

''Old master" discovered in Zara, 7a 

Olive oO merchant, Zara, 69 

Omaisko, 386, 391 

Ombla River, 143 

Onofrio de La Cava, architect, 151 

Opanka, native sandal, 51, 69, 13a, 133 

Oracular responses possible in Diocle- 
tian's mausoleum, no 

Orahovac, 173 

Orasac, 143 

Orchids at Plitvica Lakes, 30a 

Orient, value of wells in, 44 

Orlov Krs, Cetinje, 303 

Orsini, Geomo, architect, 151 

Orsola, Val d', 178, 330, 333 

Orthography of Slavic place names, lai 

Ossero, Monte, 61 

Ostrogoths and the conquest of Italy» 30 

Ostrovac, 356 

Ostrovica, Mt., 83 

Otocac, ao, 50, 53, 54 

Otoka, 396 

Otric-Struge, 135 

Otto, Mag., 113 



Padua, 19, 31 

Pa^, island of, 61, 63 

Pawted mosque, Travnik, 371, 37a 

Pakoscane, 79 

Palermo, 31 

Palestrina, ao 

Palm Sunday, 39 

Panhaus, Hotel, Semmering Pass, 334 

Pantheon, Rome, no 

Papali or Nehaj, Castel, 103 

Paravia, Biblioteca, Zaia, 78 



336 



Digitized 



by Google 



INDEX 



Pftrcels-post, convenleDce ci, 38, 266, 

3" 
Pftienzo, 98 
Pltris, 19 
Pft8ja^30 
Pasaric, 259 
Pfe;ggBU,33a 
Ptensto, 77, 17a, I9i-i93> ai3 

Ferusic, caaOe of, 8a 

PiersagDO, 194, 213 

Pesaio, 31 

PMasse, 3x0 

Peter II., Prince, mortuary chapel ol, 

an 
Ptetermann*! "Guide to Dalmatia,*' ao 
Ptotka, Mt., 161, 177 
Pfctraich's "I Trionfi," lai 
Petrovic djmasty, of Montenegro, ao3 
Fetrovoaek), 300 
"Pettini," Raguia, 145 
"Ptettini," Raffusa Vecchia, 179 
Pfannberg, nmia of, 333 
Piccola Veneiia, 104, no 
Piccoh dsUa Ssra, II, Trieste, 76, 77 
Pichl, ScUoat, 333 

Plero the sea-gull, 164, 165, 170, 171, 175 
Pierre, Prince* of Montenegro, 307 
Pietro III., archbishc^ of Spalato (837), 

103 
Pile, Porta, Ragusa, 148, 153, 165 
Pipes, stone, laid through nutrshes, 81 
Pirano, a8, 31 
Pirates, 44-46, 48, 136 
Pisa, 19, 30, 70 
Plague at Rafusa, 168, 169 
Plane-trees ot Ragusa, 143 
Plat, 178 
Pliny, quoted, 83 
Plitvica LAkes, 54, 395, 301-306 
PUva River, 375, 376, 380 
Pljdtevica Mounutains, 397-399 
Ploce, Porta, Ragusa, 153 
Pbdveles, Mt., 338 
Podvian, 396 
Pbdv^3i3 
Pbkoj, 397 
Pbia, 38, 105 
Policemen, dearth of, 166 
Pbljica, Republic of, 135 
Pompeii, baths of, 117 
Popovo district, 3<3 
Porto Casaon, 156 
P6rtoRe, 41 

Prairies, the Karat compared with, 44 
Prdo^By 316 



Preluka, stone quarries of, 31 
Prcnj Alp, 351, 353-355, 357, 358, 336 
Pr$s^, Italian, 33 
Priboj, 54, 300 
Pijedor, 300, 393 
Prokljan, lake of, 83, 87 
Pronunciation of Serbo-Croatian lan- 
guage, rules for, so 
Proior, 355 
PunU d' Ostro, 168, 178 



Quarco, Castd, 103 

Quamero, islands of the, 68 

Queen of Italy, 303 

Queretaro, field where Emperor Max- 



fanilianfeU, 35 



Rabenstein, castle of, 333 

Radce, 30 

Radman Mills, 136 

Radonja River, 309 

Radua,3i4 

Ragusa, city and Republic of, 134, laS^ 

137-139. i4>iS7, 159. 164-171, 175- 

177, 179, 198, 330, 333, 335, 353, 

366,336 
Rafusa Vecchia, 179 
Railroads, 18, 58, 67, 95, 183, 356, 357, 

366, 370, 374, a9i, 393, ^96, 301^ 

310.3*4 
Rakovac, 309 
Rakovica, to6, 307 
Rakovpolok, 310 
Rama Valley, 355 
Rann,3i3 
Rapallo, 19 
Raada, original home of the MoriacchI, 

68 
Rastelica, 358 
Rattadorf, 330 
Ravenna, 19, 31 
Ravljane, 54 

Rector's Palace, Ragusa, 151, 168, 171 
Red Sea, 364 

Reichselstein, ckdieau of, 313 
Remetinec, 311 
Riaho, Venice, 344 
Rkardo, Arco di, Trieste, 34 
Rfccardi, Palaaao, Florence, 151 
Rkhard Coeur de lion, tiaditkxi coik 

ceming» 34 



337 



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INDEX 



RiBSe River, valley ci, 59 

Rimini, 18, 19, 31 

Risano, 173, 317 

Risano, sta^ from, 190 

Riva Vecchia, Zara, 74, 78 

Riviera of Raguta and the Bocche, 336 

Riviera of the Sette Castelli, 103, 116 

Riviera, the, 19, 30 

Rjeka ^iume), 39, 308 

Roads, condition of, 33, 38, 40, 41, 43> 
47-5i» 54. 57. 58. 60, 63, 64, 79-«i, 87, 
88, 95, 96, 100, 103, 118, 13$, 136, 
138-130, Z38-140, 160, 173, 176, 178, 
193-194, 197, 198, 300, 3X1, 313, 335- 
337, 339, 356, 369, 385, 386, 390-393, 
«95-«97. 3«)» 301. 3<^. 310. 3". 3«3. 
3i5» 316, 317. 320, 3aa-3a4 

Roman antiquities, 76, 315, 319 

Roman place of ejdle, 103 

Roman ruins fTrieste), 34; (Pola), 38; 
(Zara), 74; (of aqueducts), 81 ; (near 
Salona), 104; (Spalato), 109; (Salona), 
116-118; see Diocletian's Palace, Spa- 
lato 

Romanesque art, fine example of, loi, 
no 

Rome, 19-31 

Rttmerbad, 315 

R5thelstein, precipice of, 333 

Route from Paris to Dabnatia, 

Rovigno, 38 

Roviffo, 31 

Royaltv of Montenegro, 300, 303 

Ruigsni River, 189 

Rudolf, Crown Prince, 157 



S. Euphemia, 76 

S. Michele, Ugljan, 76 

S. Stefano de Pinis, church of, iiz 

Sabbioncello, Peninsula of, 139 

Saborski, 306 

Sahara Desert, comparison with, 160 

Salona, 85, 103, Z04, X16-118 

Salonian Gulf, Z19 

Samobor, 313 

Sana River, 393, 394 

San Cosimato, so 

San Domenico, church of, Ragusa, 153 

San Donato, Zara, 76 

San Francesco, SHara, 71, 73 

San Geoigio Maggiore, Library of, 

Venice, 151 
San Giacomo degli OUvi, i$x 
San Giacomo, monastery of, 177, 333 



19-31 



San Gioigio, Benedictine abbey of, 193, 

314 
San Giovanni, fort of, Sebenico, 93 
San Grisogono, Zara, 73, 73 
San Guiseppe, tree growing over door 

of, 163, 163 
San Marco, monastery of, Lacroma, 157 
San Biichele, 165 
Sann River, 314, 315 
San Simeone, Zara, 71 
Santa Savina, monastery of, 186-188, 

318 
Sap jane, 31 
Sarajevo, 353, 355, 359-364, 370, 373, 



Sardme-fishing, 156 

Sasak, 39 

Save River, 311, 313, 314 

Savina, 183 

Scardona, 83-87 

Schlossbeig, Grata, 333 

Schwab, Hotel, Kseljak, 369 

Schwanberg Alps, 319, 330 

Schwareequelle, the, 353 

Sculptured heads in Sebenico, 90^ 91 

Scutari, 300 

Scutari, Lake of, soo, 309 

Season to visit Dalmatia, 18 

Season to visit Rafnisa, 170 

Sebenico, 61, 83, 87-97, in, 145, 151 

Se^ietto, 100 

S^na (Senj or Zengg), 44 

Segni, 30 

Semmering, the, 333, 334 

Senj (Segna or Zengg), 44 

Serbo-Croatian language, so 

Sergio, Mt., 148, 157, 167, 330, 333 

Servia, 48, 304, 353 

Servian-Croatian language, 77 

Servians discard national costumes, 349 

Servians founded Bdontenesro, 304 

Sette Castelli, Riviera of the, 103, xi6 

Sheep shearing, 300 

Shooting on Narenta River, 135 

Shrines, wavside, 319 

Sibenik (Sebenico), 93 

Siena, 19, 30 

Siesta, hour of the, 89 

Signori, Piaaza dei, 2^ra, 78 
" Piazxa dei, Spalato, 113 
" Piazza dei, Trau, loi 

Silk industry, Scardona, 86 

Silversmiths* work. Treasury of the 
Duomo, Ragusa, 153, 153 

Sinj, xz8 

Sisicic; 356 

Slano, 140 



338 



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Slavic names and language, 90, 36, 77, 

Slavonja, 83, 314 

Slavs in ''wandering of the tribes," 30 

Slunji,307 

Smoking by Croatian ladies, 41 

Smokovo, 41 

Sokolac, castle ol, S97 

<*Solta, honey ci,** etc., 104 

Solta, island ol, 100, 119, 123 

South Slavonian Academy of Science, 
Agram, 31a 

Spagnuolo, Fort, 183, 318 

Spahito, 83, 95-97, 103-116, 118-134, 
137. 145. «44. «5a» «83 

Spalato, bay of, 133 

Spaniaids in Castelnuovo, 181, 183 

Spanish attitude toward Ragusa, 170 

Spanish roads, 160 

Spethan Bathory, Khig ci Poland, 331 

Speda, 19, 30 

SpinSd, 31 

Spital-Rettenegg, 334 

''Split*' (SpalataO, 104, 105 

Spfjet (Spalato), lo; 

Squaw-root at Plitvica Lakes, 303 

Stadt-Park, Marburg, 318 

Stafileo, Castel, 103 

Stages between Ragusa and Gravosa, 
146 

Stagno, 168 

Stagpo piccolo, Canale di, 139, 140 

Starigrad, 61 

Steam-lxMit established means ol trans- 
portation in Dalmatia, 28 

Steamer route between Obrovac and 
Zara,6t 

Steinbruck, 314 

Steiner Alps, 315 

Steinhaus, 334 

Stemstein, Castle, 3x6 

St. Francis, church and monastery of, 
Spalato, 108 

Stiepan Sandalj, Duke, 181, 339 

Stjepangrad, castle of, 338, 339 

St. Luke, campanile of, Jajce, 383 

St. Luke's belfry, 133 

St. Marein, 333 

St. Mark, lion of, 70, 100, loa 

St. Mark's church, Agram, 31 1 

Stobie?, 135 

Stobre? River, i3j 

Stolivo, danji^ or lower, 194, 313 

Stolivo, gomji, or upper, 193, 313 

St Peter's belfry, 133 

''StradaMcstra,"i98 



Stradone, Ragusa, 148, 150, 176 

Strichowets, 319 

Struka, native shawl, sos, 306 

St Stephen of Hungary, 153 

Study of ruined city necessary before 

visit, 116 
Stupink, 310 
St. Urban, peak of, 316 
Stvria, 313, 330 
Sueurac, Castel, 103 
Sulphur ^Mrings, Ilidse, 359 
Sulphur springs, Spalato, 133 
Supetar, rock of, 179 
Suriki, 41 
Sut Juraj (S. Giorgio) (Sucurac, Castel), 

103 
Sutonna, river and valley of, 181, 330 
Svilaja Mountains, 61 
Svratiste Lika, Gospic, 56, 57 
Sv. Rok, 59 
Sv. Stipan chapel, 135 
Swiss chalets, houses which resemble, 
« 52, 9sB 
Sycamore trees, of Ragusa, 143 



TaHEhi, sawmills of, 359 

Tartars' defeat on plain of Grobnica, 

80 
Temple of Jupiter, Diocletian's PaUure, 

Spalato, no 
Teodo, Bay of, 189, 191, 196, 317 
Tepanje, 316 
Tergeste, to 

Terni, and Csscsdes of, 19, 31 
Terns, 67 

Terraferma, Porta, Zara, 64 
Terre Firma, PorU de, TraQ, 100 
Theodoric, king of the Ostrogoths, 30 
Therapia Palace Hotel, Crkvenica, 41 
TivoU, 30 
Tjesno, Gorge, 987 

Tomasewitch, last king of Bosnia, 983 
Tomb of Ismail Baba, near Travnik, 



*ombs< 



Tombs of Bosnian viziers, Travnik, 373 
Tommaseo, Nicolo, 90 
Topla, Baja di, 184 
Tradition and history, 34 
Trajan, aqueduct built by, 81 
Traste, Bay of, 313 
Tratt, 83, 95, 100-103 
Travnik, 356, 968, «7i-374, 336 
Travnik. castle of, 371 
TrebinjHca River, 143, 334, 337 



339 



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INDEX 



Ttebinje, 176, 178, 187, 233, aa4» >35> 

227» ^35* 326 
Ttebinje River, 394 
TrebSnjica, or Tribinjcica, River, 143, 

334, 337 
Tree growing over door of San Guiaeppe, 

163, 163 
Treacanica River and valley, 356, 357 
Treviao, 19, ai 
Tribanje, 61 
Trieste, 18, 19, 21-35, 37, 98, 31, 38, 

77» ?7» 136. «44. 3*5 
Trinita, Fort, 196, 197, 313 
Tristeno (Cannosa), 143 
Trogir (Tratt), 100 
Troglav, 330 
Tiplmir, King (837), 103 
Trupina, native boat, 135 
Tuffer's castle, 315 
Turia Pass, 138, 139 
"Turkey, new woman of," 156 
Turkish costume, 137, 156, 157, 334, 

346, 347, 384 
Turkish village house, type of, 359 
Turkish watch-toweis, 333 
Turkish women, 339, 341-343, 377- 

979, 396, 308 
Turks in Balkan history, 48, 71, 74, 79, 

83, 103, 119, 138, 139, 167-170, 181, 

183, 304, 309, 310, 334, 356, 381, 383, 

333 
Tiu-ks object to being photographed, 

338, 349 
Tusilovic, 309 
Tvarko I., Bosnian king, founder of 

Castelnuovo, 181 
Tvertko II., King of Bosnia (fourteenth 

century), 371 

u 

Ubhija, 309 

Udine, 19, 31 

Ugar River, 386 

Ugljan, 73, 76 

Una River, 394-397 

Urbas River, 375-377, 385-388 

Urbino, 19, 31 

Uscocs, the, 48, 86, 169 



Vakanski Vrh, 59 
Vakuf, 356, 374, 375 
Vallone oi Risano, 317 
Vecchk), Castel, 103 



V^lia, island of, 31, 41. 4a. 50 

Velebit Mountains, 56, 63, 335 

Velebit Pass, 59, 63 

Velebit, plateau of the, 51 

Veler, Mt., 337, 351, 359 

"Velika Gubavica'' (Falls of the Ce- 

tina), 137 
Veljun, 307, 308 

Venetian ships in Trieste harbor, 3X 
Venice and the Venetians, in Balkan 

history, 31, 48, 71, 73, 79, 83, 83, 93, 

100, 113, 119, 138, 138, 139, I49t 167, 

170, 183, 191 
Verhovo, 314 
Vidouie, 138 
VidovKf, null of, 1x9 
Village houses, types of, 359 
Vilovac Saddle, 359 
Vinac, 375 
Vinodol Vallev, 43 
VisbSca Planma, Mt., 356 
Vissech, mills of, 136 
Viterbo, 30 

Vitturi or Luksic, Castel, 103 
VlaSic, Mt, 369, 370, 374 
Vrana, 81 
Vrana, Ljtke of, 81 
Vranjic, 104 
Vratnica, Mt, 369 
Vratnica, mountain nmge of, 369 
Vratnik Pass, 47, 50, 51 
Vratniku, 50 
VigoiBC, 131-133 
Vrmac, Fort, 196 
Vrmac, peninsula of, 198 
Vrpolje, 95, 97 

w 

"Wandering of the tribes,*' 30 

Wartbeig, 333 

Watershed b^ween Adriatic and Black 

Seas, 358 
Wedding customs, Mostar, 349 
WeUs, tttt value in the Orient, 44 
"Whoa I" universally understood by 

horses, 58 
Wicker wagons, 33, 389 
Wild animals in Dalmatia, no need to 

fear, 97 
Wildon, 330 

Wilkinson, Sir Gardner, quoted, 170 
Winchester, General, 171 
Windisch-Feistrits, 316 
Winnowing com in Ooatia, manner of, 

399.300 
Wisconsin, comparten with, 391 



340 



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INDEX 



Wochau, 316 

^'Woman's work" in the BaUums, 140 

Women as burden-bearers, 39, 33, 43, 

43. 47. 166, 109, 307 
Woodwork, medic w, xii 



Zadar. j«e Zara 

Zagreb, «M Agiam 

" eb, Hotel, Zengg, see Agiam Hotel, 

Zakmska River, 217, 940 

Zara, 18, 57, 61, 63-79, 81, 83, 89, 93, 

is8, 145. 155. 35<. 335 
Zara Vecchia, 81, 93, 179 



^^^r 



Zavorio, -* , engineer, 139 
Zegar, fortress dF, 399 
Zeienika, 37, 173, 183-189, 317 
Zeljesnica River, 3^9 
Zemonico, 64, 79, 80 
ZengR (Senj or Segna), 44-43 
Zeu^naus, or Arsenal, Grats, 331 
Zitnic, 05 
Zmajevidi, Vincenso, archbishop 

Zara, 77 
Zrmanja River, 63 
Zmovnica, 133 
Zuievina River, 359, 368 
Zukki, 357 
Ziq)a, 196 
Zt4>a valley, 913 
Ziitak>kva,Ji 
Zvinmiak River, 196, 197 
Zwe&hGiad castle, 387 



341 



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