ajevo. I took the phonograph to collect
songs, and wished specially to collect tattoo patterns and see the
Bogumil and all other local historical remains, but was badly
hampered, nor is it my purpose here to describe things anthropological.
Had I been left to my own devices I should doubtless have made
larger collections and seen less of the political situation. But the
Austrian police, like the Serbian in 1902, insisted on rubbing my
nose in it.

Travel in the interior was forbidden without a special pass. The
British Consul was absent, and had referred me to his Italian
colleague who muddled the business badly, whether because he was
stupid or for reasons of his own, I did not find out. A little of
both, I think. I was asked to call at a certain hour on the Governor
of Serajevo. He was a Croat, spoke German to me and told me it was
the wrong time of year to travel in Bosnia. Much surprised, I said I
had wintered in Macedonia and could stand anything. He then spoke
Serb, and I foolishly replied in the same tongue. I told him all I
wanted was the permit, and that I could shift for myself. He
objected that the food was bad; native houses dirty; winter near
--such a journey as I proposed among the people in short impossible.
I replied I was used to bugs, lice and fleas, could sleep on the
ground and eat anything. All I wanted was a pony and a respectable
guide. He stated that unfortunately there were no guides in Bosnia,
so I said if I could have a pony I would find the way myself by map.
Remembering my trump card at the Serb Legation, I asked if the
country were in too dangerous a state. He hastened to say it was
not. At last, countered at every point, he offered to lend me his
man-servant for a fortnight; could not spare him longer. I should
then have seen enough and could return to England. I said I could
not so inconvenience him; that I could not get any work done in the
time and that I thought of staying months not weeks. He said he
would think it over and I was to call again. Next time he was all
smiles and had a map ready. "Here," he said, "is your route. Here is
a letter"--he pointed to a large pile--"for the Bezirksvorsteher of
every place. You will present it on your arrival and do nothing till
the authorities have arranged for you. The tour will take three
weeks, and then you will go back to England." It was a great
disappointment to me. You cannot get a native to tell you folk-tales
while you draw the interi