he habitations of the peasants
are made of reed and straw; the hay-ricks are mere slovenly heaps,
partially thatched; the fences are made up of odds and ends. As for
order, the whole place might have been strewn with the _debris_ of a
whirlwind and not have looked worse. As a natural consequence of all
this slatternly disorder, fire is no uncommon occurrence; and when a
fire begins, it seldom stops till it has licked the whole place clean--a
condition not attainable by any other process.

Fishing was a very favourite amusement with us, and Herr von B----
several times organised some pleasant excursions with that object. One
day we went up the Lepusnik, a magnificent trout-stream.

We drove across the valley, and then followed a narrow gorge near the
village of Klopotiva. The scenery was enchanting, but our fishing was
only moderately successful; for the trout were very much larger than in
the valley nearer home, and they bothered us sadly by carrying away our
lines.

Some way up the valley we came upon a little colony of gipsies, who were
settled there. Their dwellings were more primitive than the Wallacks
even. The huts are formed of plaited sticks, with mud plastered into the
interstices; this earth in time becomes overgrown with grass, and as the
erection is only some seven feet high, it has very much the appearance
of an exaggerated mound or anthill, and would never suggest a human
habitation.

A fire was burning in the open, with a tripod to support the iron
pot--just as we see in England in a gipsy's camp; and the people had a
remarkable resemblance in complexion and feature, only that here they
were far less civilised than with us.

I entered one of the huts, in which by the way I could scarcely stand
upright, and found there a man employed in making a variety of simple
wooden articles for household use. The gipsies are remarkably clever
with their hands; many of these wooden utensils are fashioned very
dexterously, and even display some taste. The gipsy, moreover, is always
the best blacksmith in all the country round; and as for their music, I
have before spoken of the strange power these people possess of stirring
the hearts of their hearers with their pathetic strains. It has often
seemed to me that this marvellous gift of music is, as it were, a
language brought with them in their exile from another and a higher
state of existence.

That these poor outcasts are capable of noble self-sacrifice, the sto