While trying to make my way to the other side of the valley I found myself hemmed in by a variety of fences, which I was forced to surmount, and run the gauntlet through private orchards, with whose owners I happily avoided an encounter, and finally emerged with a whole skin on the Christian quarter, which lies east of the castle. The inhabitants here belonged to the Latin Church; but though the Roman Catholic priesthood in Bosnia leans towards Croatia, and shrinks from Serbia with more horror than from Stamboul, yet these Latin women of Tešanj betrayed, perhaps unconsciously, their sisterhood with the heretics beyond the Drina. They were not coiffed Croat fashion, in a kerchief, like the peasants we had seen in the Bosnian Possávina, but their hair was plaited round a fez, _à la belle Serbe_, with flowers stuck in coquettishly on one side, and drooping gracefully about the ear. They displayed, too, the Serbian partiality for purple, and a maiden with a scarf crossed over the bosom recalled the peasant girls about Belgrade. The rest of their dress—the double girdle, the twin aprons, the tunics with expanding sleeves—may be described as South Sclavonic. The men, though surmounted with turbans, differed usually from the Turks in wearing a white tunic in place of the gorgeous vest and jacket, and short flowing white trowsers instead of indigo bags. Those Christian men, however, who were more well to do, and inhabited the mercantile part of the town, were, like our landlord, in complete Turkish costume. [Illustration: Latin maiden of Tešanj.]