“My guest,” said the captain, “you must be fatigued with your ride.  This house is your’s.  Suppose yourself at home in the country beyond the sea.”

“What,” said I, looking to the handmaidens, “supper already!  You have divined my arrival to a minute.”

“Oh, no; we must put you at your ease before supper time; it is warm water.”

“Nothing can be more welcome to a traveller.”  So the handmaidens advanced, and while one pulled off my socks, I lolling luxuriously on the divan, and smoking my pipe, the other washed my feet with water, tepid to a degree, and then dried them.  With these agreeable sensations still soothing me, coffee was brought by the lady of the house, on a very pretty service; and I could not help admitting that there was less roughing in Servian travel than I expected.

After supper, the pariah priest came in, a middle-aged man.

Author.  “Do you remember the Turkish period at Karanovatz?”

Priest.  “No; I came here only lately.  My native place is Wuchitern, on the borders of a large lake in the High Balkan; but, in common with many of the Christian inhabitants, I was obliged to emigrate last year.”

Author.  “For what reason?”

Priest.  “A horde of Albanians, from fifteen to twenty thousand in number, burst from the Pashalic of Scodra upon the peaceful inhabitants of the Pashalic of Vrania, committing the greatest horrors, burning down villages, and putting the inhabitants to the torture, in order to get money, and dishonouring all the handsomest women.  The Porte sent a large force, disarmed the rascals, and sent the leaders to the galleys; but I and my people find ourselves so well here that we feel little temptation to return.”

The grand exploit in the life of our host was a caravan journey to Saloniki, where he had the satisfaction of seeing the sea, a circumstance which distinguished him, not only from the good folks of Karanovatz, but from most of his countrymen in general.

“People that live near the sea,” said he, “get their salt cheap enough; but that is not the case in Servia.  When Baron Herder made his exploration of the stones and mountains of Servia, he discovered salt in abundance somewhere near the Kopaunik; but Milosh, who at that time had the monopoly of the importation of Wallachian salt in his own hands, begged him to keep the place secret, for fear his own profits would suffer a diminution.  Thus we must pay a large price for foreign salt, when we have plenty of it at our own doors."[10]

Next day, we walked about Caranovatz.  It is symmetrically built like Csatsak, but better paved and cleaner.

FOOTNOTES: 

[Footnote 10:  I have since heard that the Servian salt is to be worked.]

CHAPTER XVII.

Coronation Church of the ancient Kings of Servia.—­Enter the Highlands.—­Valley of the Ybar.—­First view of the High Balkan.—­Convent of Studenitza.—­Byzantine Architecture.—­Phlegmatic Monk.—­Servian Frontier.—­New Quarantine.—­Russian Major.