After the steamer rounds Punta d’Ostro, with her mediæval castle and modern fortifications which keep watch for Austria over this part of her territory, an hour’s ride through some of the most beautiful scenery is in store for the traveller, for this promontory marks the entrance of the famous Bocche di Cattaro, the most wonderful and best naturally protected harbour in the world. I should not say that at this point is the “entrance” to the Bocche, for the word “Bocche” itself is the plural of “Boca” and means, literally, “entrances” or “mouths,” but the term “Bocche di Cattaro” has been so generally applied to the basins themselves which, together, make up the harbour, that it enjoys almost universal usage. Of these basins there are three which are of considerable expanse, resembling small inland seas: the basins of Castelnuovo, Teodo and Cattaro. The remaining two, for there are five in all, are not so extensive and might be considered as bays leading off from the larger bodies of water. These latter are joined by narrow straits or channels, which is not the case with the smaller bays, like that of Risano. The narrowest Boca is at the entrance of the sea of Perasto and is familiarly known as “La Catene,” because of the fact that at the time when Lewis of Hungary was defending Cattaro against the Venetians he sealed up the entrance to this particular body of water by stretching a “chain” across the mouth so that it would be impossible for the caravels of the enemy to enter. Lofty, barren peaks rise on every side from the very shore line, while the water of the harbour is peacefully calm, translucent and, in colour, a deep blue, rendered deeper by the dark shadows of the overhanging mountains. Constantine Porphyrogenitus, the ancient historian of the country, probably stretched the time limit an hour or two when he said that the sun never penetrated the Bocche di Cattaro except in summer, but, nevertheless, it has been proven a fact that in the course of a winter’s day Cattaro enjoys but five hours of sunlight, so hemmed in is it between the tall mountain peaks and ranges. The picturesque little town of Castelnuovo lies directly across the bay from the Punto d’Ostro. In front of the town the steamer stops long enough for a few fussy Dalmatian women to climb down the ship’s accommodation ladder to the boats, which have put out from shore to take off any passengers or freight the steamer may be carrying consigned to Castelnuovo. [Illustration: A GENERAL VIEW OF CASTELNUOVO.]