Arrived at the summit, from the embattled platform near the cathedral, a great view repays the climber. Far over the brown-roofed houses of the whole city, with the dark smoke rising from the shipbuilding yards, out to the Mole and lighthouse, and far out to the open Mediterranean beyond. The bay is sheltered from the east and north by the dark hills and jutting headlands. Then when one has drunk in the view one can turn aside and enter the cathedral, some parts of which have stood since the days of Rome's dominance. In the tower, at the entrance, may be seen a pillar of the Roman Temple that stood upon this site; and in the Lapidarium, a tree-shaded space with a museum near by, some most beautiful relics of Roman sculpture and architecture, and also a fine monument to Winckelmann, who was killed here in 1768. The interior of the cathedral is at first a great puzzle to the archaeologist. It is really two early churches of the fifth and sixth centuries, linked by a fourteenth-century nave. The inlaid marbles and mosaics are of exceptional value. The cathedral is dedicated to St Giusto, our St Just, and the frescoes illustrating his life are remarkable. The church is unfortunately very dark, and it requires good eyesight to be able to examine the really interesting details of this strange and impressive building.

To obtain even a wider view of the landscape around, if permission is obtained, the castle height can be climbed, and the grey ridges of the Earst mountains [145] can be seen, as well as the distant Alps. It is hoped in Triest that even the dreaded Bora will be tamed, as the afforestation of the Earst goes on; and certainly the fresh vigour of the young trees we saw in some of the rocky districts promised thorough success to this bold movement, that should be a tremendous lesson to some British, or especially Irish, grumblers at home difficulties of cultivation, because of indifferent soil.

Triest, like Pilsen, is noted for its beer, for here is located the great brewery of Dreher, producing yearly something like a million and a half hectolitres of the well-known light beer.

It is a most interesting study to stroll along the harbour and quays of Triest, and watch the arrival of the Ocean liners, or still more, the small local steamers from the near ports and islands of the Adriatic; and numerous are the excursions one can arrange. In the town there are pleasant walks in the Giardino Publico, where the band plays, and the people are in light-hearted crowds, all orderly, but jovial. One sees but little quaint costume; now and then a grey-coloured head-dress, but most of the girls are bareheaded. Another popular place is the Boschetto, a lovely wooded hill with oaks, ash, and many trees, with shady little paths and water-courses, and peeps down to the city below and the hills beyond. Here, in the groves in spring, one can hear the music and laughter of the crowds, and in the retired paths the song of the nightingales.

Of the numerous excursions near Triest the one that all take is to Miramar that lies just across the bay. The pleasant way to reach this is by boat; one can get [146] there by rail or tramway, but the approach to this stately chateau and its beautiful gardens by water is by far the most impressive. On landing at the marble steps we ascend into the beautiful gardens, with their bowers and seats in shady avenues looking out on to glorious flowers. Perhaps between tall dark cypress trees, on the blue waters of the bay there floats a tiny boat with deep orange sails, under the paler blue of the sky. All is beauty, colour, and soft, contented peace; and then one looks away to the white marble palace, and remembers that it was the home of Maximilian and his wife—he, executed in Mexico, and she lingering on in Laachen as a demented widow. The rooms within the castle are very lovely and hold many art treasures; but their greatest beauty is the superb views from the windows upon the beauteous bay, and the charm of landscape around it. A day that gives very much to remember is one spent in a trip to Capo d'Istria. A call at the offices of the Austrian Lloyd's will secure much useful information upon the possibilities of short or long tours on the Adriatic, and also interesting local booklets that give valuable notes.

Capo d'Istria can be reached in various ways; its name implies it is a headland of Istria, formerly an island, and as one sails around the great point the whole bay opens out, and soon a great building, that we were told was the Carceria, is seen.

The little town is very quiet now, but on entering the Piazza one halts almost with a shock of surprise. Here is a miniature Venice. The Campanile, the lion of St Mark, and farther on the great cathedral, and the Palazzo communale, with its Venetian windows, [147] and estrade for public announcements. A veritable bit of Venice.

Once when visiting here, Il Brolo, the three old churches and a monastery, with the rich old cloisters had been utilised for an Istrian exhibition, and some remarkable historic pictures and relics of the province had been collected. Among their special art treasures were Carpaccio's Virgin and Child, and a rich collection of Pyxs and Chalices. In one of the churches a Gewerbeschule (Trade-school) has been established.

The whole little town is full of rich corners and quaint bits, and many of the houses of the former patrician families still speak of their former state. But Istria must not too long detain us, although in our tour down the Dalmatian coast we shall halt at a couple of points at the extreme south of the Istrian promontory. [148]

The myriad islands and islets break all force to influence a good-sized ship, and the beauty and interest is continuous. The only thing is, one wants to remain on deck all night, the afterglow and mysterious [152] weirdness of the gloaming is so enticing, and then very frequently one feels compelled to be up before sunrise to see some famous spot.

I once entered Zara at 8 a.m. and went ashore in the darkness, just as the first faint gleams of dawn gave glimpses of towers and buildings. It was one of the most impressive walks I have ever taken. All was so silent. I met no one, but I passed through narrow streets and under archways, and suddenly came into the square before the cathedral. The grey gloaming was increasing. I could trace the Romanesque arches, and the tall towers, and all seemed to breathe of the dead past in the darkness and silence, the life of the centuries seemed present. Far, far back, even to a thousand years b.c., legend says Zara was an important town, and the Romans have left many a monument here, and on through the troublous ages Zara has always been of importance. The curiously varied races that have fought for and occupied Dalmatia we shall have space to refer to in more detail when sailing up the Bocche de Cattare As I wandered on in the increasing light I came to another open space, and here rose a tall Corinthian column, certainly of Roman origin; a stray passer-by told me I was in the Piazza de l'Erbe, and snowed me that the ancient column used to be a pillory, for there were still the irons hanging by a chain. At its summit was a strange beast, said to be the lion of St Mark. As I was standing before this column the light seemed suddenly to increase, there passed over the square a curious cold shiver, it was the shiver of the dawn heralding another day that was breaking. I [153] passed on in my walk round through narrow streets, past churches that promised much of interest» again through that archway that I learnt was the Porta Marina. Now I could see the Lion of Venice upon it, and the inscription that tells of the battle of Lepanto.

To show that Zara is by no means to-day given wholly up to antiquity, we once met a party of [154] British tourists, who, at the short halt o! the steamers, entered the town solely to find the Maraschino factory, for which the place has a great renown. As a fact, there are several factories that make this liquor from the fruit and leaves of the local cherry or small plum that here has a peculiar flavour which will not survive the transplantation of the trees. All around Zara are spots of historic charm, and perhaps one of the best routes whereby to explore the interior of Dalmatia and the hill district is to take the route to Benkovac, and on to Kistanje, and then on to Knin. Vineyards and wild barren lands are passed, and there is plenty of work for geologist and historian, and for the lover of picturesque peasantry. Of course the best hotels must not be expected in this district, but the strangeness and freshness of the experience well repays all trouble and inconvenience, and between the towns Kistanje and Knin, is the Roman Arch that tells of a town referred to by Pliny as a fortress, that became a most important commercial town of the Romans in the fourth century, where many gold and silver coins, inscriptions, and fibulae, rings, weapons, statues, etc., have been found.