Sofia is a city of quaint contrasts. Fine modern shops, where one can obtain the latest Parisian perfumes, the latest French _modes_, or expensive table delicacies, are hopelessly mixed up with the Turkish stalls where sallow-faced men are squatting at work, or sitting pensively at the seat of custom. The Sofia tradesman likes to expose his wares, whatever they may be, in the street, for in that he still retains the trace of the trade manners of the Turk. The pavements of the main streets are heaped with wares—fish in barrels, meat, groceries, live fowls, live pigs tied to lamp-posts, and among it all jostle the passers-by. The broad Maria Luisa Ulitza, the Dondukoff Boulevard, or the Pirotska Ulitza are, on a Friday, the market-day, crowded with peasants in the most picturesque costume of all the Balkans. Until a year or two ago the skirts and head-dresses were of white linen embroidered, but in these modern times the women dye all their white clothes a pale blue. Therefore they all seem to wear the same delicate shade. The married women have their heads covered with a pale blue handkerchief, and wear a heavy silver girdle; but the village maidens all have their hair parted in the middle and hanging in a hundred small plaits with sequins down their backs, while over the left ear they wear a bunch of fresh flowers, which gives them a most coquettish appearance. The skirt is short, always hand-embroidered, and sometimes studded with gold sequins, while over all is worn a short jacket of sheepskin with the wool inside, rendering them somewhat podgy. The men from the country, a fine tall race, wear embroidered costumes, the jackets of dark stuff flowered in pale blue and ornamented with hundreds of pearl buttons, tight white trousers embroidered at the knees, and the inevitable round cap, without which no Bulgar is complete. I spent one amusing morning with Mr. James Bourchier, the well-known Balkan correspondent of the _Times_, who is six months each year resident in Sofia. He was on the local committee of the Balkan Exhibition at Earl’s Court while I was on the London committee, and our mission was to discover in the market some good-looking peasant girls to go to the wilds of West Kensington. He had already been to several villages, but the girls, he said, were rather chary of going so far from home, even though assured by their local Mayor of their well-being and safe return. On the particular day of our visit to the market my journalistic friend had arranged to meet the Mayor of one of the neighbouring villages—a peasant—and with his aid try induce some of the best-looking girls to grace the Bulgarian Section of the Exhibition. The village Mayor being prevented from joining us, we determined to start upon a voyage of discovery ourselves.