As Cecil approached this edifice, important though his mission, some delay occurred in his presentation, as a Circassian Prince with six hundred horsemen--all wild-looking and picturesque Tcherkesses, had just come in to join the standard of King Milano. He was a very handsome young fellow, wearing a busby of black Astracan fur, with a coat of the same material (worn over a shirt of the finest linked mail), with a row of cartridge tubes across the breast of it; his sabre blazed with precious stones, and he wore a pair of white kid gloves that would have done credit to Regent Street. Then came Cecil's turn, and by officers of the staff, wearing blue coats and red trousers, and French kepis with waving plumes, he was ushered into a stately apartment, and was graciously received by Milano, who gave him his hand to kiss, and read the despatches aloud to the group around him, with considerable emphasis and the most intense satisfaction. Photographs have made all so familiar with pictures of the Servian King, that no description of him is necessary. Suffice it, that he was all the more warm in his reception of Cecil on discovering that he was a Briton, and learning the services he had performed in the recent battle. Milano was then in his twenty-second year, having been born at Jassy in 1854. He spoke French with fluency, having been educated at Paris, where his studies were interrupted by the assassination of Michail Obrenovitch in 1868, after which he was proclaimed Prince of Servia by the Council of Regency. Replies to the despatches would be given Cecil forthwith, and meantime an aide-de-camp was desired to conduct him to the Krone Hotel. There, weak and weary with his long and rapid journey, Cecil gladly flung himself upon a divan, and after a repast, made terrible by the inordinate seasoning of red pepper and red capsicums, or _paprikas_, with a bottle of Negotin claret, made from grapes that always grow on stony soil, he began to enjoy himself at an open window which faced the Gardens of Belgrade, which are certainly very beautiful. Servian officers and Servian ladies were promenading there, or eating sweetmeats at marble tables, and reading the Servian _Istok_, while the band of the Royal Guard played in the gardens, and now and then the national air of 'La Belle Serbe' was called for and greeted with applause. To Cecil, the people seemed pleasing in aspect; their eyes were blue or hazel, with chestnut hair and oval faces that were generally smiling. The men, tall, robust, and handsome; the women, slender, delicate, and all wearing graceful head-dresses.