prospect of water, which the Adriatic presents both to the S. and the E. Towards the N. the view is terminated by high and irregular mountains situated at a proper distance, and in many places covered with villages, woods, and vineyards.’[B] Like most other relics of antiquity, the time-honoured walls of Spalatro have been witnesses of those varied emotions to which the human heart is subject.  Thither Glycerius the prelate retired, when driven by Julius Nepos from the imperial throne.  There, too, in a spirit of true Christian charity, he heaped coals of fire on the head of his enemy, by affording him a sanctuary when dethroned in his turn by Orestes, the father of Augustulus.  Again, a little while, and within the same walls, where he had deemed himself secure, Julius Nepos fell a victim to the assassin’s knife, and subsequently we find the houseless Salonites sheltering themselves within its subterraneous passages, when driven from their homes by the fury of the invading Avars.  The memory of all these is passed away, but the stones still remain an undying testimony of a happy king.

Having passed some hours in the town and palace, I adjourned to one of the few small cafes in the principal street.  While sipping my chocolate, I was accosted by an elderly priest, who most civilly enquired whether he could help me in any way during my stay at Spalatro.  He proved to be a person of much intelligence, and, notwithstanding that his knowledge of English extended only to a few conversational words, he had read Sir Gardner Wilkinson’s work on Dalmatia, and, as his remarks showed, not without profiting thereby.  At 4.30 the same afternoon we arrived at Lissa, the military port of Austria in this part of the Adriatic.  It is interesting to English travellers, its waters having been the scene of a naval action in which an English squadron, commanded by Captain Hoste, defeated a French squadron carrying nearly double as many guns.  During the great war the island belonged to England, and indeed a portion of it is called to this day the Citta Inglese.  It at one time acquired a certain importance in a mercantile point of view, sardines being the staple article of commerce.

The same night we touched at Curzola, and at 4 A.M. on September 3 anchored at Gravosa, the port of debarcation for Ragusa.  Taking leave of my friends on board, I landed at about 5 A.M., and, having committed my luggage, a small bullock trunk, saddle-bags, and a saddle, to the shoulders of a sturdy facchino, and myself to a very rickety and diminutive cart, I proceeded on my way to Ragusa.  The drive, about a mile and a half in distance, abounds with pretty views, while the town of Ragusa itself is as picturesque in its interior detail as it is interesting from its early history.  The grass-grown streets, the half-ruined palaces, and the far niente manners of the people, give little indication of the high position which the Republic once achieved.  Yet, despite all these emblems of decay, there are no signs of abject poverty, but rather a spirit of frugal contentment is everywhere apparent.