To-day we noticed a certain amount of positive manifestations, and those directed against ourselves. Many of the believers scowled as we passed, and one old fellow did me the distinguished honour of coming up and cursing me in the middle of the street. Once a Mahometan store-keeper positively refused to sell any of his wares to the Giaour—the Kaur, as the Bosniacs call him—and I should have been unable to procure the ‘lumps of delight’ which I affected, had not a Serb merchant, whose acquaintance I had made, come up and explained that I was neither a Russian, nor an Austrian, but an Englishman, on which the Turk relented at once. We were, however, more seriously annoyed by being followed wheresoever we went by a Zaptieh; and at last, unable to stand such persecution any longer, betook ourselves to the telegraph office to demand an explanation from our French-speaking friend. ‘You see,’ said he, ‘he has orders from the prefect of police to follow you.’ ‘To follow us! So he still takes us for spies, then?’ ‘Oh, that is not the reason! It is simply for your safety. You see we are in a very critical state: the Mahometans here are very fanatical—they may rise against the Christians at any moment.’ Had he said, as indeed was the case, that they were actually rising in the neighbouring town of Banjaluka—that the Christians of Bosnia had risen against the Turks—that the Turkish burghers had in places flown to arms in self-defence—that massacres were being perpetrated all along the Save—he would have put us more on our guard. As it was, by subsequently admitting that we were still suspected to be insurgent emissaries, he destroyed the effect of his previous warning, and left us as averse to having a Zaptieh clattering at our heels as we had been before. Perhaps, too, we were rather obtuse in not reading the signs of the times more clearly. During the whole day raw levies, not regulars, not redìf or reserve, but the old Bashi Bazouks, Mahometan volunteers dressed in the ordinary country costumes—the red turban and sash, loaded with antiquated pistols and _handshars_ or short sword-knives—had been streaming into the town. Some of them were beating a diabolical tattoo on drums shaped like the bowls of spoons—quite in harmony with the savage aspect of the warriors. During the night we were frequently woke up by bugle-calls, and next morning the uproar had rather increased. We, however, knowing with what brotherly feelings the Bosniac Turks regarded Englishmen, felt no uneasiness on our own account. So that leaving L⸺ at the Han, I hesitated not to sally forth alone, unencumbered either with escort or a revolver, to sketch the old castle.