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"The Luck of Thirteen Wanderings and Flight through Montenegro and Serbia"

He
was a stout, sweet-mannered little man, who shook his head woefully over
the war.
Somehow Pavlovitch discovered that he and the bishop were the same age,
forty-eight. We contrasted Pavlovitch's spare athletic frame with the
well-fed shape of the bishop, and felt instinctively which was the
better Christian. Coffee and slatka were brought in. This slatka is
always handed to callers in well-regulated Serbian households. It is jam
accompanied by many little spoons and glasses of water. Each guest dips
out a spoonful, licks the spoon, drinks the water, and places his spoon
in the glass. There is also a curious custom with regard to the coffee.
If a guest outstays his welcome, a second cup is brought in and
ceremoniously placed before him--but, of course, this hint depends upon
how it is done.
"It is Friday," remarked Pavlovitch, regretfully. "Odder days we gits
mighty good meal." He was very anxious for us to stay the night so that
we should fit in a first-class breakfast, but the morrow was the Ipek
fair, and we could not miss that.


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