When our eyes had become accustomed to peering out into the darkness, for it is almost as beautiful to ride at night through these channels as it is in the daytime and for that reason we eschewed our berths, those of us who had remained on deck could distinguish, as we passed, the silhouette of the island of Kraglievaz, or King’s Seat, upon which Bela IV secluded himself from the pursuit of the Tartars. Then we plowed through a veritable shoal of islands and passed an isolated rock, formerly crowned by the Benedictine monastery of St. Arcangelo. Farther along, near the famous headland of La Planca (the Promontorium Diomedis of the Romans), we passed a little chapel, built by a thankful mariner who, while sailing up the coast with a cargo of Malvasia wine, suffered shipwreck on the rocks and made ingenious use of his cargo to mix the mortar with which to bind the stones of this little monument of appreciation of his rescue. At this point we also crossed an arm of the open sea, and then sped on between the island of Zlarin and the mainland. Beyond Zlarin lies the town of Sebenico, founded by pirates who, from their caves in the surrounding mountains, scanned the sea for ships. Waxing in boldness they founded a colony on the shore, which they surrounded with a fortification or palisade. From the Croatian name for “palisade” (“Sibne”) is derived the name of the town, Sebenico. At daybreak, had there been in the distance a few scattered palm trees and a stretch of sandy beach, we might easily have imagined ourselves in equatorial latitudes. The rays of the sun tinted the mainland and the islands in hues of saffron; there was scarcely a ripple on the deep turquoise-coloured water. We steamed up through the Canal di Zara, a channel three miles in width, between the mainland and the mountainous island of Ugliano, and at five in the morning the lines of the _Graf Wurmbrand_ were made fast to the _molo_ at Zara. This old town was the ancient Jadera, even then in allegiance with Rome, where a Roman colony was established in 78 B. C. Many years later it was brought under the powerful yoke of the Venetians and numerous fragments of both periods still remain. The Zara of to-day is world famous for being the home of the maraschino industry, the delicious cordial distilled from the juice of the wild cherries which grow in abundance on the slopes of the neighbouring limestone hills, and you have never tasted _real_ maraschino if you haven’t tapped the till in Zara. In the evenings, the esplanade along the stone quay, which skirts the harbour, is alive with promenading Dalmatians of all classes, while one of the best military bands to be heard in a week’s travel plays inimitable music at the shore end of the _molo_. Except for the dearth of tourists and the absence of the incessantly gliding gondolas the water front at Zara almost resembles a scene along the Grand Canal in Venice.