Just as characteristic of a narrow-minded bourgeoisie is the way in which they set their faces against any attempts to better their education. A few years ago a Serb of Serajevo, who had amassed what for a Bosniac was a fortune, as a merchant at Trieste, left a considerable sum of money to be applied in erecting a good school for the Pravoslave community here, on condition of a certain additional sum being subscribed by the Serajevan merchants. The Pravoslave community at large seem to have received the tidings of this generous bequest with sublime contempt; but one or two individuals, who hoped to profit by it as teachers, took the matter up and sent a circular to the European Consuls in the name of the whole Serb community, stating that that body ‘feeling the want of a good education for their sons, and wishing to carry out the design of their benefactor, solicited the aid and patronage of the representatives of enlightened Christendom.’ This sounded very fine. The Consuls took the matter up. Mr. Holmes represented it to the English Government, and though nothing could be given officially, Lord Clarendon very kindly forwarded 30_l._ on his own behalf. Then the bubble burst. The Pravoslave community held an indignation meeting, in which they disavowed the circular of these interested enthusiasts for education: protesting that their children were well enough taught at home, and that a new school they did not want, and a new school they would not have! Two other most prominent classes of Serajevan society call for mention. One is the Board of Health, whose business it is to keep the streets comparatively clean. The members of this sanitary staff exercise their unclean office at night, when they patrol the streets in troops—and the offal which they then pick up is their only food! At this season these scavengers, who are perpetually falling out among themselves, raise such a terrible hubbub as murders sleep to those unused to their rowdiness. Moreover, it is hardly safe to walk across the street after dark, for these gentry will patch up their own quarrels and unite to assault the unwary foot-passenger; and, though they have no other weapons than those wherewith nature has endowed them, such is the ferocity of their onset that I have myself seen a Turkish soldier forced to keep these guardians of the public health at bay with his sword. They do not wear either fez or turban (so far as we were able to observe), and in this they differ from the generality of Turkish officials; but they are uniformed in a coarse hide of a muddy buff-colour, disfigured with mangy patches, usually out at elbows, and tattered by reason of their nocturnal brawls, in which they show themselves so transported with passion as to tear off each other’s ears. By day they are very _lazzaroni_, and are to be seen in the streets (their only home), lying across the path or roadway on their stomachs—truly a disgusting spectacle. It is a custom not to be