Finally, and suddenly, his horses stop literally on a ten-cent piece in front of the hotel; you feel around to ascertain if your frame is intact and the tempo of your heart-beats once more assumes a natural rhythm. Bowing peasants with bared heads (the reason for the ceremony is known only to themselves, but I have a suspicion that they all hope to receive from you some gratuity for living) line the sidewalk, while the hotel proprietor graciously assists you to alight and escorts you to your rooms, at the same time making profuse apologies for the style and period of their appointments. For the Bulgarian equivalent of one dollar and a quarter a day each, you may lodge and feast at this hotel. You will find the food of great variety and the cooking excellent; the Turkish coffee, which is always to be had in these Eastern provinces, and to learn the making of which you must attempt an excursion into the culinary department, is the best you have ever tasted; and delicious wine or refreshing beer, the latter served temptingly in tall, thin, frosted glasses, is included in the price paid. Perhaps your apartments consist of a suit of rooms on the second floor, overlooking a thickly wooded park, which occupies the whole of the block opposite. The floors are hard wood parquetry and the sitting-room is furnished like a throne chamber with plush-covered, handsomely carved, high-backed chairs and divans. In one corner stands an immense tile stove, a replica of those to be seen in Vienna, resembling more a sarcophagus than a heater. The bed-room contains two beautifully-carved beds, burdened with thick, soft feather comforters, while at the side of each is placed a small stand bearing an attractive electric reading lamp. The only complaint I had to make was that the thousands of jackdaws, which held daily conclave in the park during the early hours of the morning, kept up such an incessant squawking and screeching that, had our sleeping apartment not been the more remote from the street, I should have begged the proprietor to give us a back room. As it was, we were compelled to bury our heads, ostrich-like, under the feather comforters to deaden the racket, although the season was mid-summer. Your comfort during your stay having been assured, you will hurry to the street to mingle with the people of Bulgaria and to get acquainted with their capital, this noisy little city of Sophia, situated snugly at the foot of the snow-capped Balkans, the majestic Mount Vitosch to the south. The streets of the new town, each named after some local celebrity of the era of liberation, radiate like the spokes of a wheel from the royal palace as a hub. They are well-paved, wide and well-lighted with electricity, but within the precincts of the old town, now fast disappearing, you may still find many narrow cross streets and courts, lined on either side with picturesque Turkish bazaars which continually invite your patronage.