Cattaro is a considerable port, in the hands of the Austrians, and some of its traders were connected with the house of "Popham and Company," for which your uncle was then an agent. He was often away for weeks together, on business. I remained behind, and was much alone, but time never hung heavy on my hands, for it was fully occupied with making sketches from nature. These I carefully finished afterwards, and they found a ready sale at Corfu, through the kindness of a friend. These little gains eked out our slender income, and I remember no moment of purer delight than that in which I welcomed your uncle home one soft autumn morning, and placed my first hoard of fifteen guineas in his hand. "My own industrious Cattie!" he exclaimed, "how very hard you have worked in my absence! You have earned a holiday, my dear. Say, how and where shall we spend the week I have to devote to you?" "O Laurie!" I cried, "on the Black Mountain--sketching on the Black Mountain! You don't know how I long to explore it, and to paint its scenery and its splendid-looking peasants! Do let us start at once!" "My dear, are you crazy?" he answered quietly, "Why, those mountaineers are a set of lawless cut-throats, that regard neither life nor property. They--" "I know, I know!" cried I. "They glory in cutting off as many Turkish heads as they can, and carrying them home on the points of their lances. Yes, it _is_ horrible, Laurie; still, we must make allowance for an oppressed race, and remember how cruelly the Turks have treated them for ages. I don't believe the Black Mountaineers would hurt a hair of our heads, or of any unoffending traveller who threw himself on their honour. Just let us try, Laurie."