of all the Powers interested. I heard, from several people I met, of the sufferings and difficulties of this much-to-be-pitied expedition. To draw out any frontier-line based on the instructions they had received was hopeless.

At last, about two months before our arrival, a melancholy troop might have been seen descending the rough track that leads from Cettinje to Rieka. The gates of the heavens were opened. The path was converted into a foaming torrent. They reached Rieka wet and miserable. The commissioners then retired to bed and hot beverages, fearful of fever and rheumatism.

At last a happy thought rainy season is commencing. our labours till next spring. wives and families."

struck one.

"The

We must postpone
Let us return to our

The English commissioner alone held out, and urged that they should continue their work now. He told them that the rainy season was a good two months off yet. In vain ; the others had had enough of it; they threw up the sponge. The commission broke up. What excuse was made to the several Powers that had sent it out, I know not, but the real cause was a rain-storm on the Montenegrin hills.

The English commissioner was much admired by the populace, and made himself by far the most popular of the lot. He was a good foot taller

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than any other member of the expedition, and looked like a fine man, as well as a diplomat, for so every one is called here who works for a foreign government. He was attended, as far as I could make out, by two smart non-commissioned officers of the line, also big and imposing. One of these thought it incumbent on him to sport a fez at Scutari, which at once stamped the English branch of the commission as Turcophil.

We were aroused suddenly by a loud barbaric shout, not much resembling the cheers of an English crowd.

The Duke of Wittemburg had arrived, so we walked down the high street to see his reception. The whole of the capital had turned out-a picturesque mob, every man of which bristled with arms. The Albanian or Montenegrin never leaves his doorstep without buckling on a very arsenal of formidable-looking weapons. The women, of whom some were pretty, mixed freely with the throng. These wear the same sleeveless white coats as the men do, but no sash ties it in at the waist. Under this is a many-hued dress or petticoat of thick and rough material, which falls some six inches or more below the coat. Their legs are wrapped in shapeless gaiters. They wear the opunka on their feet. They are fond of stringing small Turkish coins, half-piastres and the like, with which they orna

ment their heads and breasts. Some of the necklaces constructed with the small silver coins are really very pretty.

About 200 men or more were drawn up along the road-side, near the palace, who fired a salute as the cortége arrived. Some Montenegrin nobles, in their extravagantly gorgeous dress, mounted on small wiry horses, rode hither and thither, giving orders to the men. Fine specimens, of guerilla chieftains they were, all of great height, handsome, and sinewy.

Very characteristic of this country was it to see the men fall into their places. A gun was firedthe signal that the duke and his party had been sighted in the pass. Then all down the highstreet you might see tobacconist, leather merchant, and baker, leap from his counter or leave his work, seize his rifle—always at hand, and always loadedand run down to the palace gate, where he would take up his position with his fellows in the line. The discipline seemed rather slack, but the strict discipline of a European army would be useless for these men, trained to fighting from their childhood as they are, and who never or rarely descend to the plain to join battle with regular troops, but fight behind the rocks and stones they know so well.

Montenegro has no regular paid army. Every man is a soldier in time of war. Prince Nikita

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telegraphs his orders to the various Voyades or chieftains, and each of these calls out the fighting men of his district. It requires but little time to mobilize these wild forces.

There is no commissariat to be organized, no heavy transport train.

Each man buckles on his belt of cartridges, throws his plaid over his shoulders, seizes his rifle, and stalks out of his door, ready for the campaign. The women take the place of the commissariat. Each man's wife, or mother, or sister, as the case may be, is his commissariat. The women come and go between home and camp, bearing provisions and ammunition. For the particular nature of the service required of the Montenegrins this system is perfect; for they never carry war beyond their frontiers, and the distance between home and the front is never very great. No less hardy than the men, the women here are surprisingly active and strong, and walk nimbly across these fearful mountains with incredibly heavy burdens on their backs.

We dined at the table-d'hôte of the Prince's hotel to-day, in very aristocratic company.

The highest officers of the little State are regular habitués of the hotel dinner.

We sat down with the court painter-a young Ragusan who had travelled in America and France, and spoke a curious English, with a half foreign,

half American accent, freely larded with Yankee idioms; our landlord; the Secretary of State, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the Prince's adjutant.

The latter is a handsome young fellow, a cousin of the Prince, and with him has been educated at the Lycée St. Louis le Grand, at Paris. All the grandees were in full Montenegrin dress, bristling with pistols and yataghans; for in Montenegro the men do not put by their weapons when in a friendly house, as is the case in Albania.

The conversation turned on politics. Mr. Gladstone, of course, was their hero. They were all well acquainted with his pamphlet, which has been translated into their tongue. The hatred they expressed for Lord Beaconsfield was intense. They were by no means reserved in the terms of their abuse.

There was one thing that excited their astonishment to a great degree. "You Englishmen," said one, "Christians-civilized-a great people! How comes it that you allow a Jew to govern you?"

Seeing that we were not quite of one mind with them, and were not such great admirers of Holy Russia as were they, they politely turned the conversation.

We then got on the subject of the perpetual wars on the Turkish frontier, which in ferocity