where each vine showed careful culture and was just putting forth its tender leaves--along a road bordered on the left by hillsides under full cultivation, where countless white cottages in the midst of blossoming orchards betokened a numerous population, I could hardly fancy that I was in the midst of the ill-reputed desolate Karst range, in a corner of the world of which scarce a hint was to be found in the guide books. The bald rocky mass of Mt. Nanos alone, clothed at its feet only with a forest of oaks, and the bare peaks of the high range that seemed to close in the valley in the distant west, showed that vegetation was not as luxuriant everywhere in the Karst range as I found it on the hills to the left and in the valley itself.

"Luttava!" my driver called out, nodding to me and pointing with his whip towards a little town near at hand, nestling at the very foot of Nanos, its white houses seeming to cling to the rocks. In a few minutes we had reached it, and after driving along a street too narrow for more than one vehicle, turned into the gateway of a large building, before which a tall pole supported a sign whereon a golden grape vine declared it to be the inn recommended to me before I left Adelsberg.

The carriage stopped beneath the dim gateway before a door opening directly into a spacious kitchen, where in the huge chimney-piece a bright fire was blazing. Through the door I could see several men, some standing, some seated upon low benches, about the fire, all of whom regarded the newcomer with curiosity. A plainly clad but spotlessly clean dame busied herself on the hearth, moved a steaming pot to one side, and hurried out to receive me, opening the carriage door to help me to alight.

"Can I have a room!"

"Certainly! If the gentleman will kindly go upstairs," was the reply, delivered in excellent German, although with a strong accent. "Mizka, show the gentleman up to Number Two."

Mizka, a pretty slender girl, tripped lightly before me up the stairs leading up two flights directly from the kitchen to a wide entry, where she threw open the door of Number Two, and courteously held it open for me to precede her.

The room was large, low, and square, with two small windows, looking out upon the street. It probably looked larger than it really was from the absence of much furniture along its walls. Between the two windows there was an old-fashioned sofa covered with gay chintz, and above its high back hung an oval mirror in a black varnished frame, while before it stood an extension table, which if pulled out to its fullest capacity would have accommodated twenty-four persons. A tall cedar clothes press, a washstand, six chintz-covered cushioned chairs, and a huge bed which had to be clambered into by the help of a chair, completed the furniture of the room. The walls, painted light green, were adorned with four gaily colored prints, each portraying a quarter of the earth in the guise of a very ugly and scantily clothed dame, whose distorted limbs reclined upon a fantastically shaped couch.

This was Number Two, my room. It certainly did not look inviting for a long stay; it was too bare, but it as certainly possessed the unexpected attraction of perfect cleanliness. Not a speck of dust lay upon the few articles of furniture, the bare floor was spotless, and the creases in the white bed linen bore testimony to its freshness.

"Will the gentleman take his supper here, or below in the dining-room?" Mizka asked me in very good German.

"I will come down as soon as I have washed," was my reply.

"I will bring fresh water immediately;" and she hurried away, returning presently with a can of crystal-clear water, and a supply of fresh towels, and followed closely by two gigantic porters, each of whom bore upon his shoulders one of my heavy trunks. Assuredly thus far I could not complain of lack of promptitude in the service of a Slav inn.

When I had freed myself from the dust of travel, and had changed my coat, I went down to the dining-room; the way led through the kitchen, where several men were sitting or standing around the hearth, talking familiarly with the hostess, who was busy meanwhile with her cooking. All greeted me politely as I passed through the room.

When Mizka showed me into the spacious dining-room, I took it all in with a rapid glance. Its arrangement could not be called elegant, but the cleanliness of the scoured tables atoned for its simplicity. There were but a few persons present. At a table near a window a young man sat alone, apparently absorbed in a newspaper. He looked up for a moment as I entered, disclosing a singularly handsome face, which was immediately hidden behind his paper. The face was thoroughly German. Such deep blue eyes, such fair, close curls are to be found nowhere save in Germany. He was certainly handsome, but his expression was too grave, perhaps even too stern and hard to allow of his being thoroughly attractive.

As far from this young man as the size of the room would permit, at a large round table near the tall stove, sat six or eight men, smoking long cigars, with glasses of wine before them. They evidently saw me enter and look about for a seat, and one of them instantly rose and motioned courteously with his hand, placing a chair at the table, while the others moved aside to give it room.

I was amazed at so polite a reception in this notoriously hostile Slav country, and I was not quite pleased. I should have liked to observe the magnates of Luttach, who were apparently here assembled, from a distance, at my leisure, before making their acquaintance, whereas now, when I accepted their invitation, and introduced myself as a German, a Prussian, and worse than all, from Berlin, whose citizens are never popular, their amiability might decrease. "Permit me to present myself to you, gentlemen," I said, "as Professor Dollnitz from Berlin, who hopes to spend some weeks with you here in your beautiful country, collecting plants and butterflies, beetles and chrysalids. I am an old naturalist who looks forward to much gratification here in your richly endowed Southern Ukraine."

I observed a fleeting smile pass around the circle upon hearing that I, so old a man, was running after butterflies and beetles, but I am used to that; all sensible men regard us old entomologists as cranks, and sometimes jest rather rudely at our expense; but this was not the case here; the gentlemen, as I could see, suppressed their smiles at my butterfly mania; they rose very politely and formally introduced themselves as the District Judge Foligno, his Assistant Herr Einern, Burgomaster Pollenz, a retired Captain Pollenz, a landed proprietor, Gunther by name, Herr Weber, a merchant, and Herr Dietrich, a notary. Strange! All German names save that of the district judge.

Chance had surely brought me among Germans. I was strengthened in this belief by finding that they all spoke excellent German, not merely with me, but among themselves; only now and then was there heard a brief remark in Slavonic. I soon found out my mistake, however, when in the course of conversation I mentioned that I had been warned in Vienna and in Görz not to visit the Ukraine on account of the hostility of the Slavs to Germans. The Burgomaster Pollenz, a reverend old man, made reply, speaking with emphasis, and so loudly that even the young man sitting by the window at the other end of the room could hear every word distinctly: "That is unfortunately a widespread error which has brought our good Ukraine into ill-repute. We are all Slavs, and are proud of being so. Our ancestors were Germans, but we are not. The Ukraine is our home. Whoever is born here and lives here must feel himself a genuine Slav. Those only do we hate among us who are disloyal sons of their native land, who would rob us of our