There was a great joke against Richard, who wanted to inspect a place for scientific reasons which were above the comprehension of the rest of the party. It was one of those mysterious grounds in the Karso where rivers, and even small lakes, disappear and rise up in some other place, changing their ground as the swallows change air, at certain seasons; but he did not tell them this, and they thought they were going to see something wonderful. We drove and drove all day, in carts without springs, over hill and dale and stones, until we were half dead, and across a sort of jolting common, and then we came to a little building that might have been a protection for cattle in bad weather. We all got out and went anxiously into this building, and saw nothing but the objectionable signs of cattle having been there, and Richard (who was our guide) looked round in a profound meditation, and then he nodded his head, and muttered these few words, "I see, I see; I am perfectly satisfied;" and then he turned round, and we all mounted our wretched carts again to the next possible roadside "tap," where our horses were fed and rested, and we got some eggs and rice and beer, and then we all laughed immensely and chaffed him about having brought us all that way to see--what? I joined the others for fun; but then I knew, because he had told me. The place had a very long Slav name, Zerknick-something, but they all christened it "Shirkins," and it has remained so ever since. From this we went on to Graz, a beautiful place halfway between Trieste and Vienna, which is the paradise of the younger and poorer branches of the aristocracy, and retired officers, military and naval. Some wag christened it Pensionville. ON RETURN. One of the papers on May 16th, and I think it was the _Daily News_, wrote as follows:--