We next passed a caravan of pack-horses heavily laden with bales, and proceeding, like everything else in Bosnia, at a snail’s pace, and then caught a glimpse of the Roman Catholic church of Foca, a long straggling village lying in a valley to the right. The village seemed to shrink away from the high road, but one cottage was nearer, and into the small yard of this our Zaptieh led us, to see if we could procure any food. Here we found a Christian woman with a small child, who, bringing out two ragged pieces of carpet for us to lie on outside her hut, did her best to prepare us a meal, and presently set before us a couple of toasted maize-stalks, five eggs poached in sour milk, some unripe plums, and unleavened maize and rye bread. For all this she only charged us a single ‘grosch,’ or about twopence, and seemed surprised when we trebled that amount.
I can hardly describe the misery of the hovel and its surroundings, the haggard mother and poor squalid brat, scarcely better clad than when it entered the world,—the all-wretchedest of homes—with earth for flooring, a few stones in the middle to support the fire, above which hung a piece of hooked wood to support a caldron,—a small hole opening in the roof to let out the smoke, which had covered the wooden walls with soot like the inside of a chimney; a low partition shutting off the lair. There was no light but what came in at the door, and the few tatters she had strewn outside for us were the only furniture. There was besides, a shed, in which we imagined a cow, a small hen-roost, and a little patch of maize; but how little of this ever went to the rayah who tilled it was shown by the size of the garner, which was a mere wicker-work basket. But the most indescribable tokens of destitution were some clothes, or what once had been such, hung to the fence,—they were mere shapeless bundles of rags! We could not wonder much after this that the rest of the Christian village shunned the neighbourhood of the road.
Leaving this abode of misery we began to descend into the valley of the Bosna, and pursuing a lane whose hedges were brilliant with the scarlet sprays of wild vines—they can take the gorgeous hues of Virginia creepers—we arrived about five at a small Han called Radanka, about an hour from Doboj, where we were glad to turn in, and obtained much the same accommodation as the night before. We were much amused at our Zaptieh, who showed religious scruples against taking the sour wine of the country, obtainable here, but drank copious draughts of Arrack (Raki), and showed no objection to Rum. At Doboj, however, where we got good red Slavonian wine, these scruples vanished.
Next morning we had a difficulty with mine host, a German-speaking Slavonian, who charged us a ducat—a monstrous sum for a night’s entertainment in Bosnia, and over three times as much as we had paid at Dervent. Our Zaptieh assessed us at half the amount, and we were preparing to pay that much and be off; but the Hanjia had the wit to lock up L⸺’s knapsack, so we had nothing for it but to offer our host the choice of accepting our terms, or the ducat he demanded, with the prospect of being complained of to the Mudìr of Doboj. He chose the latter alternative, and we left, our Zaptieh shouting ‘Hajduk Hanjia!’ (Brigand innkeeper!)
Our Zaptieh was, in his way, a very good fellow, and we were pleased at the friendly manner in which he treated the rayahs. His demonstrations of affection towards ourselves and Englishmen in general were perhaps a little too hilarious; for he kept shouting for miles at a time that the Turks and English were brothers. He accompanied us presently in a swim in the blue waters of the Bosna, which is here so rapid that we had to choose out a sheltered bay in which to disport ourselves. About half an hour after, resuming our trudge, on passing a turn in the road, the old castle of Doboj rose before us, finely seated on a conical hill.
We found a Han in the lower part of the town, and then visited the Mudìr, whom we found seated on a small but neat and brilliant divan, and to whom our Zaptieh poured forth the story of our Hanjia’s extortion. We have some reason to believe that two Zaptiehs were dispatched to enquire into the matter.
We now ascended the hill to explore the upper part of the town and the castle. The main street is an undulating and snaky mud-path, along each side of which are ranged the usual unglazed shops, in which English cottons, knives and scissors, and European-labelled bottles containing various spirits, are mixed with gold-embroidered Turkish apparel, and a variety of tinned-copper salvers, and water vessels of coffee-pot shape. In one shop were for sale rude hand-mills of this shape for grinding salt.
