As another example of this clandestine knowledge of the English language throughout the Balkan Peninsula, I was standing one evening on the molo at Ragusa, watching two fishermen load their small boats with nets and other implements of the catch. At the stern of their craft was displayed a large and cumbersome lantern having a powerful reflector. I questioned the rower in German, such as it was, as to the use of this paraphernalia, and, as I had not heard a word of my mother-tongue in the town—in fact, all along the Dalmatian coast—my auricular nerves suffered a profound but agreeable shock when the man replied, “The sardines follow the light while we lead ’em into the nets.” He had been a sailor and had visited almost every port in the United States as well as in England.
And, why not the Balkans?
In place of the mountain-trails and muddy cart-roads of a few years ago there are now railway lines that form a network through the most interesting sections, and travel is facilitated proportionately. The scenery is as picturesque as any in Europe, while the touch of colour, in the garb of the peasants mingling with the variegated uniforms of the always conspicuous army, adds an unalloyed charm seldom enjoyed along the time-honoured travel routes of the Continent. Good hotels, at which the food is excellent and well prepared, may be found in the cities, and the accommodations, if not luxurious, cleanly and comfortable.
THE HOTEL PROPRIETOR, SOPHIA.
As late as 1853-54 not a single telegraphic line existed beyond the Austrian frontier. Along the highway from Belgrade to Constantinople, through Nisch and Sophia, messages from the Western courts to the Sublime Porte were carried by dare-devil riders at a speed which sacrificed horse-flesh regardlessly. A notable achievement was the ride along this route of one Colonel Townley, who covered eight hundred miles in the incredibly short time of five days and ten hours. To-day the “Orient Express” eats its tortuous way tri-weekly from Calais to Constantinople, crossing Europe from edge to edge, in a fraction over four days.
Hardships of travel through the near East have vanished, although, in countries so backward and so seldom visited by the sightseer, it would be highly improbable that inconveniences would not be encountered. But these inconveniences are doubly cancelled by the pleasures and sensations of vibrating between the beauty-spots of pugnacious little principalities, whose histories have been written so indelibly with blood upon the pages of the world’s progress.