mayor who had been trying to do us honour.

The next day was Sunday, and the village full of peasants. Stiff-legged
and groaning a little within ourselves we walked about the town making
observations: Turkish soldiers, Turkish policemen, Turkish recruits, but
all the peasants Serb. The country costume is different from that of the
north, the perpendicular stripe on the skirt has here given way to
horizontal bands of colour, and some women wear a sort of exaggerated
ham frill about the waist. The men's waistcoats were very ornate, and
much embroidery was upon their coats.

An English nurse came into the town in the afternoon. She, a Russian
girl, and an English orderly had driven from Plevlie, en route to
Uzhitze. Half-way along the wheel of their carriage had broken in
pieces, so they finished the road on foot. Curiously enough we had
travelled from England to Malta with this lady, Sister Rawlins, on the
same transport. The Russian girl had been married only the day before to
a Montenegrin officer, nephew of the Sirdar Voukotitch,
Commander-in-Chief of the North, and she was flying back to Russia to
collect her goods and furniture.

Next day as we were sketching in the picturesque main street, from the
distance came the sounds of a weird wailing, drawing slowly closer and
closer.

"Hurra," thought we--two minds with but a single, etc.,--"a
funeral--magnificent. Just the thing to complete the scene."

A string of donkeys came round the corner, on either flank each animal
bore a case marked with a large red cross. Amongst the animals were