This morning our Consul kindly secured us an interview with the Vali, and deputed his Cavass to guide us to his Excellency’s Konak. We approached the official residence through a yard in which there were cannons and other warlike material, and making our way up a flight of rickety wooden steps, and thence along a carpeted corridor, were finally ushered by a gorgeous official into the hall of state—an airy chamber, about which the swallows were darting to and fro—in the extreme corner of which sat the Pashà, who graciously rose to receive us and shook hands. We were next treated to the usual coffee, while his Excellency conversed with us by means of a French interpreter. Our conversation was naturally of a personal and not a political character, so that I may confine myself to recording the amusement evinced by the Vali on our praising the scenery of the Narenta Valley. The beauty of mountain scenery was an aspect of the outside world which had evidently never even suggested itself to his mind, and it tickled his fancy immensely. Our conversation was every now and then interrupted by the appearance of couriers with despatches. The Pashà glanced at them rapidly, and signified his will about them to an attendant secretary; but we were much struck with the nice distinctions of rank observed, the officers who bore the despatches advancing so many paces from the door according to their official position, and the officers in attendance on the Pashà being seated, with due reference to their social espacement, at unequal distances from the arm-chair which served as his Excellency’s throne. The Pashà, in spite of his gracious smiles, looked worn and preoccupied, so that we hastened to cut short our interview, his Excellency rising and shaking hands again in the most polite way at our departure.