“The cheerful boulevards of Belgrade,” as one author earnestly puts it, may have been in existence at the time the phrase was coined, but I very much doubt it, because of the dearth of evidence of these alleged “boulevards” ever having deserved such flattery. This Kalemagden Park, however, is one of the few beauty spots of the Servian capital. Another is in the vicinity of the _konak_, or palace, of King Peter, in the eastern portion of the city. The street borders one end of the _konak_ and continues past the garden and lawn which the building faces: if it were not for the gates being guarded constantly by soldiers one would hardly imagine the edifice to be the residence of a royal household. The mutinous murder of King Alexander and Queen Draga in 1903 occurred in the old _konak_, later demolished by order of the present ruler, which stood in front of the new palace but facing the gardens and the street. Three miles to the east of the city is located Topchidere Park, the beautiful country-seat of the ill-fated Prince Alexander, who was but one victim of the many infamously successful plots of the Servian regicides. His chalet stands on the opposite side of the roadway from the little chapel, and in the garden his stone tea-table is still preserved. Above it spread the branches of a monstrous tree of some three hundred years of age, famous from the fact that from its massive limbs the invading Turks were wont to hang their Christian victims. Near by is the country estate of the present Crown Prince, with stables and kennels containing his favourite horses and dogs. Topchidere is the improvised country club of the Belgraders, and many are the social functions given in its casino—if I may apologize for the use of the word “casino” in describing the ramshackle frame house of carousal in the Park. But the gardens are really beautiful, and are kept in excellent condition by state prisoners detailed to work in them. CHAPTER III TWENTIETH CENTURY SERVIA The Servians—The Rise of the Nation—The Army—The Race-meets—The Market in Belgrade—National Customs—The National Dance. To the seeker of health and of pleasure, to the lover of the beautiful in art and in nature, to the reveller in gayety and luxurious living, Servia as a travel territory is null and void. It is a country of interest to the public only so long as it continues to bask in the limelight as a disturber of Balkan peace. It is the tool of Russia, the enemy of Austria, the contempt of Bulgaria and the hatred of Turkey. Indeed its only true friend may be said to be its relative—miniature Montenegro. If the Balkan Peninsula is the “Powder Box” of Europe, Servia certainly deserves to be called the “Percussion Cap” of the Balkan Peninsula. [Illustration: THE NATIVE SERVIAN HEAD-DRESS.]