I think we paid about fifty cents a day each for this room, but in the Balkans you get a great deal more for your money at the hotels than you would dare to expect in America. The floor was scrupulously polished; clean bed-clothes were on the beds; fresh water had been brought up for both drinking and toilet purposes; spotless white candles projected from each candlestick; hair-combs and brushes (for your application if you cared not to doubt the cleanliness of the previous user) adorned the bureau; and a gaudy pair of bed-room slippers reposed beneath each bed, awaiting only the insertion of your tired toes. Our meals we ate on the pavement in front of the hotel, “without restraint or finger bowls,” surrounded by the army, sniffed at by the dogs and stared at by the multitude, while a pet sheep nibbled playfully at our coat buttons. In Nisch the soldier element ever predominates over the civilian, for here is located a Servian garrison of some 2,500 men. Evidently they consider themselves proficient in military tactics, for they are always on the streets, and the pavements in front of the hotels are constantly crowded with officers, smoking and drinking. And every soldier wears a different uniform. There are blue coats with white trimmings, white coats with blue trimmings; there are black trousers with green stripes and green trousers with black stripes, not to mention the brown trousers with red stripes; there are gray caps with black visors and black caps without visors. Every private stops on the street to salute his officer and every officer stops to salute his superior officer; the place reminds one of a health resort for the treatment of St. Vitus’ dance. The moment you unlimber your camera, the peasants and townspeople, who are none too familiar with the habits, customs or pastimes of English-speaking visitors, crowd around in veritable droves, until you have to give up in disgust and resign yourself to the good luck you may hope to have with your snapshots. Only a week after we left Nisch an Englishman was arrested for taking photographs in and about the city, and he had a very great deal of trouble in finally convincing the authorities that his object in making pictures was entirely inoffensive and _not_ with a view of better explaining to his home War Department the position of the Servian fort. As it was, he was held in Nisch for some days until the British Minister to Servia demanded his release. To say the least, the people of Nisch are primitive and their looks belie not their methods. Here, for the first time, I saw put into practice a process which was in vogue centuries ago; the proprietor of the hotel, after making out his bill, _sanded_ the wet ink instead of using a blotter.