extremity of the plain stands the town of Niksich, a small, dirty, and irregular collection of buildings, all huddled together in the closest possible vicinity to the ruined fort, as though seeking the protection of its mouldering walls. Of the origin of the fort I could learn little, save from an inscription over the arched entrance, from which it appears to have been built by the son of an old and influential Albanian chieftain about 200 years ago. Two square towers, containing five pieces of ordnance, form the principal feature in the defensive works; but the whole place is in so ricketty a condition that, were a cannonade to be opened from its walls, they would inevitably come down about the ears of their defenders. From the easternmost of these towers the town runs out some few hundred yards towards the Montenegrin frontier; but all egress upon that side is out of the question, as there is ever a bullet in readiness for anyone who may be so rash as to cross a certain green patch of grass, which appears to be accepted as the legitimate boundary of the two provinces, although not precisely specified as such. At this point the Turkish sentries are withdrawn, but farther to the south a small white building serves as a guard-house, whence sentries are supplied to form a cordon round that portion of the frontier. On arriving at Niksich, we--that is, Osman Pacha's principal staff officer and myself--paid a visit to the Mudir, whom we found sitting in dignified conclave with his whole Medjlis. The Mudir, a magnificent Albanian, standing about six feet four inches, and of proportionate girth, welcomed us most cordially, and appeared a person of far greater intelligence than most of his class. He bitterly lamented the increase of suffering, resulting from the change in the line of frontier. 'Attacks by the Montenegrins and their friends,' said he, 'are now of daily occurrence, and there seems to be no chance of any improvement in our condition.' He expressed great confidence, however, in the advantages to be derived from Omer Pacha's arrival, and took a clear and sound view of things generally. He argued, correctly enough, that the rebels would stand a good chance of being literally starved into submission during the ensuing winter and spring, since the occupation of the country by the Turkish troops had prevented them from getting in their harvest, while the benighted frenzy which they had themselves displayed in the wanton destruction of the crops had deterred the neighbouring landowners from cultivating their fields. But the open intelligent face of our friend, the Mudir, lit up, more especially when telling us of some of the dours which he had made against the rebels; and in good sooth he looked better fitted for such employment, judging from his great length and breadth, than for sitting hour after hour on his haunches, emitting clouds of tobacco-smoke, and reflecting upon the