Author.  “These recent affairs are trifles, and you are too young to recollect the revolution of Kara Georg.”

Captain.  “Yes, I am; but do you see that Bolouk Bashi who accompanied you hither; his history is a droll illustration of past times.  Simo Slivovats is a brave soldier, but, although a Servian, has two wives.”

Author.  “Is he a Moslem?”

Captain.  “Not at all.  In the time of Kara Georg he was an active guerilla fighter, and took prisoner a Turk called Sidi Mengia, whose life he spared.  In the year 1813, when Servia was temporarily re-conquered by the Turks, the same Sidi Mengia returned to Zhupa, and said, ‘Where is the brave Servian who saved my life?’ The Bolouk Bashi being found, he said to him, ’My friend, you deserve another wife for your generosity.’  ‘I cannot marry two wives,’ said Simo; ’my religion forbids it.’  But the handsomest woman in the country being sought out, Sidi Mengia sent a message to the priest of the place, ordering him to marry Simo to the young woman.  The priest refused; but Sidi Mengia sent a second threatening message; so the priest married the couple.  The two wives live together to this day in the house of Simo at Zhupa.  The archbishop, since the departure of the Turks, has repeatedly called on Simo to repudiate his second wife; but the principal obstacle is the first wife, who looks upon the second as a sort of sister:  under these anomalous circumstances, Simo was under a sort of excommunication, until he made a fashion of repudiating the second wife, by the first adopting her as a sister.”

The captain, who was an intelligent modest man, would fain have kept me till next day; but I felt anxious to get to Alexinatz; and on arrival at a hill called Vrbnitzkobrdo, the vale of the Morava again opened upon us in all its beauty and fertility, in the midst of which lay Krushevatz, which was the last metropolis of the Servian empire; and even now scarce can fancy picture to itself a nobler site for an internal capital.  Situated half-way between the source and the mouth of the Morava, the plain has breadth enough for swelling zones of suburbs, suburban villas, gardens, fields, and villages.

It was far in the night when we arrived at Krushevatz.  The Natchalnik was waiting with lanterns, and gave us a hearty welcome.  As I went upstairs his wife kissed my hand, and I in sport wished to kiss her’s; but the Natchalnik said, “We still hold to the old national custom, that the wife kisses the hand of a stranger.”  Our host was a fair-haired man, with small features and person, a brisk manner and sharp intelligence, but tempered by a slight spice of vanity.  The tout ensemble reminded me of the Berlin character.

Natchalnik.  “I am afraid that, happy as we are to receive such strangers as you, we are not sufficiently acquainted with the proper ceremonies to be used on the occasion.”

Author.  “The stranger must conform to the usage of the country, not the country to the standard of the stranger.  I came here to see the Servians as they are in their own nature, and not in their imitations of Europe.  In the East there is more ceremony than in the West; and if you go to Europe you will be surprised at the absence of ceremonious compliments there.”