The road, as we approached Shabatz, proved to be macadamized in a
certain fashion: a deep trench was dug on each side; stakes about a
foot and a half high, interlaced with wicker-work, were stuck into the
ground within the trench, and the road was then filled up with gravel.
CHAPTER X.
Shabatz.--A Provincial Chancery.--Servian Collector.--Description of
his House.--Country Barber.--Turkish Quarter.--Self-taught Priest.--A
Provincial Dinner.--Native Soiree.
I entered Shabatz by a wide street, paved in some places with wood.
The bazaars are all open, and Shabatz looks like a good town in
Bulgaria. I saw very few shops with glazed fronts and counters in the
European manner.
I alighted at the principal khan, which had attached to it just such a
cafe and billiard table as one sees in country towns in Hungary. How
odd! to see the Servians, who here all wear the old Turkish costume,
except the turban--immersed in the tactics of _carambolage_, skipping
most gaily and un-orientally around the table, then balancing
themselves on one leg, enveloped in enormous inexpressibles, bending
low, and cocking the eye to catch the choicest bits.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93