Next morning, on awaking, I looked out at my window, and found myself
in a species of kiosk, which hung over the Morava, now no longer a
mountain stream, but a broad and almost navigable river. The lands on
the opposite side were flat, but well cultivated, and two bridges, an
old and a new one, spanned the river. Hence the name Tiupria, from the
Turkish _keupri_ (bridge,) for here the high road from Belgrade to
Constantinople crosses the Morava.
The Natchalnik, a tall, muscular, broad-shouldered man, now entered,
and, saluting me like an old friend, asked me how I slept.
_Author_. "I thank you, never better in my life. My yesterday's ride
gave me a sharp exercise, without excessive fatigue. I need not ask
you how you are, for you are the picture of health and herculean
strength."
_Natchalnik_. "I was strong in my day, but now and then nature tells
me that I am considerably on the wrong side of my climacteric."
_Author_. "Pray tell me what is the reason of this accumulation of
arms. I never slept with such ample means of defence within my
reach,--quite an arsenal.
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