and at which the holy men acquitted themselves a merveille.  Excepting a young priest of delicate appearance and good education, the brethren appeared a surly and ill-conditioned set.  So ill-disguised was the discontent conveyed in the ungracious ‘sicuro’ vouchsafed in reply to my petition for a bed, that I ordered my traps to be conveyed forthwith to the best khan in the town, and, having failed to find favour with the Christians, sought the aid of the Mussulman Kaimakan, from whom at any rate my English blood and Omer Pacha’s Buruhltee insured me advice and assistance.

The Austrian Consul also received me with much civility, and most obligingly placed his house at my disposal, although compelled to start for Spolatro on business.  For some reason best known to himself, he begged of me to return to Mostar, insisting on the impracticability of travelling in Bosnia in the present state of political feeling.  This, coupled with the specimen of priestly civility which I had experienced in the convent of Goritza, inclined me to alter the route which I had proposed to myself by Foinitza to Bosna Serai.  In lieu of this route, I resolved upon visiting Travnik, the former capital of Bosnia, before proceeding to Bosna Serai (or Serayevo, as it is called in the vernacular), the present capital of the province.  In fulfillment of this plan, I started on the morning of the 21st, though suffering from fever and headache, which I attributed to a cold caught in the damp vaults of the Franciscan convent.  With each successive day my illness became more serious, and it was with difficulty that I could sit my horse during the last day’s journey before reaching Travnik.  At one of the khans en route, I put myself into the hands of the Khanjee, who with his female helpmate prescribed the following remedies:—­He directed me to place my feet in a basin of almost boiling tea, made out of some medicinal herbs peculiar to the country, the aroma from which was most objectionable.  He then covered me with a waterproof sheet which I carried with me, and, when sufficiently cooked, lifted me into bed.  Though slightly relieved by this treatment, the cure was anything but final; and on my arrival at Travnik I was far more dead than alive.  There an Hungarian doctor, to whom I had letters of introduction, came to visit me, and prescribed a few simple remedies.  One day I hazarded the remark that stimulants were what I most required; upon which the learned doctor observed, with proper gravity, that brandy would probably be the most efficacious remedy, as he had often heard that English soldiers lived entirely on exciting drinks.  Ill as I was, I could scarcely refrain from laughing at the drollery of the idea.