]
CHAPTER XI.
Kaimak.--History of a Renegade.--A Bishop's house.--Progress of
Education.--Portrait of Milosh.--Bosnia and the Bosniacs.--Moslem
Fanaticism.--Death of the Collector.
The fatigues of travelling procured me a sound sleep. I rose
refreshed, and proceeded into the divan. The hostess then came
forward, and before I could perceive, or prevent her object, she
kissed my hand. "Kako se spavali; Dobro?"--"How have you slept? I hope
you are refreshed," and other kindly inquiries followed on, while she
took from the hand of an attendant a silver salver, on which was a
glass of slivovitsa, a plate of rose marmalade, and a large Bohemian
cut crystal globular goblet of water, the contents of which, along
with a chibouque, were the prelude to breakfast, which consisted of
coffee and toast, and instead of milk we had rich boiled kaimak, as
Turkish clotted cream is called.
I have always been surprised to find that this undoubted luxury, which
is to be found in every town in Turkey, should be unknown throughout
the greater part of Europe. After comfortably smoking another
chibouque, and chatting about Shabatz and the Shabatzians, the
collector informed me that the time was come for returning the visit
of the Natchalnik, and paying that of the Bishop.
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