I felt quite interested in Perasto, it looked so picturesque, so noble, so poor! One house especially struck my fancy, but the word house does not convey its appearance, it was what an Italian would call a palazzo. The entrance was evidently from a back street, while the side which faced the water consisted of a _loggia_ of many pilasters and arches, into which opened the rooms of the ground floor, while above it were tiers of large and handsome windows. In front of the _loggia_ was a paved terrace, from which a series of steps, the whole length of the house, led down to the water. It was uninhabited and in fact going rapidly to ruin! I fancied to myself what a little paradise one could make of it; I saw in my mind's eye a row of orange trees growing on that terrace, a yacht moored close into those steps, and life and bustle in those chambers where all was now silence and decay. What can have brought such desolation on Perasto? I asked several people but I could get no satisfactory answer! some blamed Austria, some _il commercio_; I suppose I could have bought the fee simple of that house in Perasto for a £10 note.
In front of Perasto are two small islands—San Giorgio and La Madonna. In the church of La Madonna is to be seen an ancient picture of the Virgin, attributed as usual to the artistic efforts of the Evangelist Luke, who evidently, from what I have seen of his works of art in different places, was not possessed of much talent in that line. Tradition states that the picture was transported in 1452, by an unknown hand, from Negropont to this rock; and being seen amidst lighted candles by some fishermen, it was removed to the church of Perasto. The next night it returned to the island; and the same action having been repeated three times, it was presumed that the picture preferred remaining there; thus they built a church for it, which no doubt turned out a profitable speculation.
CITY OF CATTARO—SIGNOR JACKSCHICH—STREETS AND PIAZZAS—WALKS AND FORTIFICATIONS—PUBLIC WALK—CAFÉ AND GARDENS—SONOROUS STONE—A MONTENEGRIN CHIEF—A HAPPY BEGGAR BOY.
Turning our backs now on that branch of the Fjord which leads to Risano, we steamed due south in the direction of Cattaro. Nothing could exceed the wild grandeur of this portion of the Gulf. The right hand shore was now entirely in the shade, while the crags on the left being exposed to the full glare of the afternoon sun showed a play of colours too beautiful to describe. Had these cliffs been clothed with varied foliage interspersed with the rocks, they would have formed a picture unequalled in any other place on the globe.