hurch a stone is built into the wall, having
the fragment of an inscription:--

A V I A. G E N T
I L F L A I I S P R

and various other stones are to be seen, one with a figure sculptured
on it.

Continuing our way down the rich valley of the Morava, which is here
several miles wide, and might contain ten times the present
population, we arrived at Csatsak, which proved to be as symmetrically
laid out as Poshega. Csatsak is old and new, but the old Turkish town
has disappeared, and the new Servian Csatsak is still a foetus. The
plan on which all these new places are constructed, is simple, and
consists of a circular or square market place, with bazaar shops in
the Turkish manner, and straight streets diverging from them. I put up
at the khan, and then went to the Natchalnik's house to deliver my
letter. Going through green lanes, we at length stopped at a high
wooden paling, over-topped with rose and other bushes. Entering, we
found ourselves on a smooth carpet of turf, and opposite a pretty
rural cottage, somewhat in the style of a citizen's villa in the
environs of London. The Natchalnik was not at home, but was gracefully
represented by his young wife, a fair specimen of the beauty of
Csatsak; and presently the Deputy and the Judge came to see us. A dark
complexioned, good-natured looking man, between thirty and forty, now
entered, with an European air, German trowsers and waistcoat, but a
Turkish riding cloak. "There comes the doctor," said the lady, and the
figure with the Turkish riding cloak thus announced himself:--

_Doctor_. "I' bin a' Wiener."

_Author_. "Gratulire: dass iss a' lustige Stadt."

_Doctor_. "Glaub'ns mir, lust'ger als Csatsak."

_Author_. "I' glaub's."

The Judge, a sedate, elderly, and slightly corpulent man, asked me
what route I had pursued, and intended to pursue. I informed him of
the particulars of my journey, and added that I intended to follow the
valley of the Morava to its confluence with the Danube. "The good
folks of Belgrade do not travel for their pleasure, and could give me
little information; therefore, I have chalked out my route from the
study of the map."

"You have gone out of your way to see Sokol," said he; "you may as
well extend your tour to Novibazaar, and the Kopaunik. You are fond of
maps: go to the peak of the Kopaunik, and you will see all Servia
rolled out before you from Bosnia to Bulgaria, and from the Balkan to
the Danube; not a map, or a