The selamlik of the Natchalnik was comfortably carpeted and fitted up, but no trace of European furniture was to be seen.  The rooms of the collector at Shabatz still smacked of the vicinity to Austria; but here we were with the natives.  Dinner was preceded by cheese, onions, and slivovitsa as a rinfresco, and our beds were improvised in the Turkish manner by mattresses, sheets, and coverlets, laid on the divans.  May I never have a worse bed![6]

Next morning, on waking, I went into the kiosk to enjoy the cool fresh air, the incipient sunshine, and the noble prospect; the banat of Matchva which we had yesterday traversed, stretched away to the westward, an ocean of verdure and ripe yellow fruits.

“Where is the Drina?” said I to our host.

“Look downwards,” said he; “you see that line of poplars and willows; there flows the Drina, hid from view:  the steep gardens and wooded hills that abruptly rise from the other bank are in Bosnia.”

The town doctor now entered, a middle-aged man, who had been partly educated in Dalmatia, and consequently spoke Italian; he told us that his salary was L40 a year; and that in consequence of the extreme cheapness of provisions he managed to live as well in this place as he could on the Adriatic for treble the sum.

Other persons, mostly employes, now came to see us, and we descended to the town.  The bazaar was open and paved with stone; but except its extreme cleanliness, it was not in the least different from those one sees in Bulgaria and other parts of Turkey in Europe.  Up to 1835 many Turks lived in Losnitza; but at that time they all removed to Bosnia; the mosque still remains, and is used as a grain magazine.  A mud fort crowns the eminence, having been thrown up during the wars of Kara Georg, and might still be serviceable in case of hostile operations.

Before going to Sokol the Natchalnik persuaded me to take a Highland ramble into the Gutchevo range, and first visit Tronosha, a large convent three hours off in the woods, which was to be on the following day the rendezvous of all the surrounding peasantry, in their holyday dresses, in order to celebrate the festival of consecration.

At the appointed hour our host appeared, having donned his best clothes, which were covered with gold embroidery.  His sabre and pistols were no less rich and curious, and he mounted a horse worth at least sixty or seventy pounds sterling.  Several other notables of Losnitza, similarly broidered and accoutred, and mounted on caracoling horses, accompanied us; and we formed a cavalcade that would have astonished even Mr. Batty.