, I should have lost the sight of the most
picturesque regions, or been compelled to take my chance of getting
horses, and leaving my baggage behind. To avoid this inconvenience, I
resolved to perform the whole journey on horseback.

The government showed me every attention, and orders were sent by the
minister of the interior to all governors, vice-governors, and
employes, enjoining them to furnish me with every assistance, and
communicate whatever information I might desire; to which, as the
reader will see in the sequel, the fullest effect was given by those
individuals.

On the day of departure, a tap was heard at the door, and enter Holman
to bid me good-bye. Another tap at the door, and enter Milutinovich,
who is the best of the living poets of Servia, and has been sometimes
called the Ossian of the Balkan. As for his other pseudonyme, "the
Homer of a hundred sieges," that must have been invented by Mr. George
Robins, the Demosthenes of "_one_ hundred rostra." The reading public
in Servia is not yet large enough to enable a man of letters to live
solely by his works; so our bard has a situation in the ministry of
public instruction. One of the most remarkable compositions of
Milutinovich is an address to a young surgeon, who, to relieve the
poet from difficulties, expended in the printing of his poems a sum
which he had destined for his own support at a university, in order to
obtain his degree.

Now, it may not be generally known that one of the oldest legends of
Bulgaria is that of "Poor Lasar," which runs somewhat thus:--

"The day departed, and the stranger came, as the moon rose on the
silver snow. 'Welcome,' said the poor Lasar to the stranger;
'Luibitza, light the faggot, and prepare the supper.'

"Luibitza answered: 'The forest is wide, and the lighted faggot burns
bright, but where is the supper? Have we not fasted since yesterday?'

"Shame and confusion smote the heart of poor Lasar.

"'Art thou a Bulgarian,' said the stranger, 'and settest not food
before thy guest?'

"Poor Lasar looked in the cupboard, and looked in the garret, nor
crumb, nor onion, were found in either. Shame and confusion smote the
heart of poor Lasar.

"'Here is fat and fair flesh,' said the stranger, pointing to Janko,
the curly-haired boy. Luibitza shrieked and fell. 'Never,' said Lasar,
'shall it be said that a Bulgarian was wanting to his guest,' He
seized a hatchet, and Janko was slaughtered as a lamb. Ah, who can
d