Surrendering our horses to the care of the khan keeper, I proceeded to
the konak, or government house, to present my letters. This proved to
be a large building, in the style of Constantinople, which, with its
line of bow windows, and kiosk-fashioned rooms, surmounted with
projecting roofs, might have passed muster on the Bosphorus.
On entering, I was ushered into the office of the collector, to await
his arrival, and, at a first glance, might have supposed myself in a
formal Austrian kanzley.
There were the flat desks, the strong boxes, and the shelves of coarse
foolscap; but a pile of long chibouques, and a young man, with a
slight Northumbrian burr, and Servian dress, showed that I was on the
right bank of the Save.
The collector now made his appearance, a roundly-built, serious,
burgomaster-looking personage, who appeared as if one of Vander
Helst's portraits had stepped out of the canvass, so closely does the
present Servian dress resemble that of Holland, in the seventeenth
century, in all but the hat.
Having read the letter, he cleared his throat with a loud hem, and
then said with great deliberation, "Gospody Ilia Garashanin informs me
that having seen many countries, you also wish to see Servia, and that
I am to show you whatever you desire to see, and obey whatever you
choose to command; and now you are my guest while you remain here.
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