Author.  “Are you a Chingany (gipsy)?”

Gipsy.  “Yes.”

Author.  “Now I recollect most of the gipsies here are Moslems; how do you show your adherence to Islamism?”

Gipsy.  “I go regularly to mosque, and say my prayers.”

Author.  “What language do you speak?”

Gipsy.  “In business Turkish or Servian; but with my family Chingany.”

I now asked the Cahwagi the cause of the guards being posted in the streets; and he told me of the attempt at Shabatz, by disguised hussars, in which the worthy collector met his death.  Paul not returning, I felt impatient, and wondered what had become of him.  At length he returned, and told me that he had been taken in the streets as a suspicious character, without a lantern, carried to the guard-house, and then to the house of the Natchalnik, to whom he presented the letter, and from whom he now returned, with a pandour, and a message to come immediately.

The Natchalnik met us half-way with the lanterns, and reproached me for not at once descending at his house.  Being now fatigued, I soon went to bed in an apartment hung round with all sorts of arms.  There were Albanian guns, Bosniac pistols, Vienna fowling-pieces, and all manner of Damascus and Khorassan blades.

Next morning, on awaking, I looked out at my window, and found myself in a species of kiosk, which hung over the Morava, now no longer a mountain stream, but a broad and almost navigable river.  The lands on the opposite side were flat, but well cultivated, and two bridges, an old and a new one, spanned the river.  Hence the name Tiupria, from the Turkish keupri (bridge,) for here the high road from Belgrade to Constantinople crosses the Morava.

The Natchalnik, a tall, muscular, broad-shouldered man, now entered, and, saluting me like an old friend, asked me how I slept.

Author.  “I thank you, never better in my life.  My yesterday’s ride gave me a sharp exercise, without excessive fatigue.  I need not ask you how you are, for you are the picture of health and herculean strength.”

Natchalnik.  “I was strong in my day, but now and then nature tells me that I am considerably on the wrong side of my climacteric.”

Author.  “Pray tell me what is the reason of this accumulation of arms.  I never slept with such ample means of defence within my reach,—­quite an arsenal.”

Natchalnik.  “You have no doubt heard of the attempt of the Obrenovitch faction at Shabatz.  We are under no apprehension of their doing any thing here; for they have no partizans:  but I am an old soldier, and deem it prudent to take precautions, even when appearances do not seem to demand them very imperiously.  I wish the rascals would show face in this quarter, just to prevent our arms from getting rusty.  Our greatest loss is that of Ninitch, the collector.”