Ragusa

“We had reached (…) the still harbour of Gravosa, there to pass the remainder of the night, ready to advance upon Ragusa the following morning (p. 95). There was nothing of any interest on the shore at Gravosa, but a Customs chamber and a cabaret. At the former I deposited all my dispensable luggage, to remain there until I should return to reclaim it on the road home. To the latter I went for a guide, or rather to inquire without a guide it were possible for a person to lose his way to Ragusa? It was not possible; so I set off to the town, half an hour distant. […] The fields on either side, though after so dry in autumn, were quite green, and not only the vine and olive, but, near the town, the pomegranate was flourishing in full blow with its rich scarlet flowers. Somewhere I passed a Greek chapel on the road-side; and, on the top of the ascent, got a full view of the whole green oasis amongst rocks, in which “Dubrownik” (…) stands, studded with white villas in gardens, not unlike English cottages at Deal or Dover or Broadstairs, but all detached, and four out of five untenanted, and apparently dismantled by fire! (p. 98) […] Crossing the drawbridge along a winding road, between massive walls, one comes into a neat Italian city, “petite”, but all in right proportions. (p. 99) […] It was Sunday, and in many of the churches mass going on. The men wore the national constume (with some exceptions), which looked picturesque, and almost oriental with their blue jerkins, bag breeches, scarlet caps, and bright daggers in red belts. Both sexes had on the bright scarlet slippers, or “paputze”, with their sharp-pointed toes turned upwards. In other  costume, or at least wore nothing to attract one’s eye in Dalmatia. The ladies of the upper classes are rarely seen abroad. They go to mass in sedan chairs, and occupy retired spots in church, apart from public observation, - so, at least, Appendini assures us. (p. 101) At the opposite end of the central street to that by which I entered from Gravosa, in a handsome little piazza, paved, liked the rest of the town, stands the palace of the Rectors. […] A little further stands the cathedral, a handsome, white, Italian church, built after 1667. (p. 102) […] The town is neat and clean, strongly reminding one of Venice, and evidently the offspring of the same age and chain of ideas. The spot on which it stands has at least the merit of great picturesque beauty. A multitude of olives planted around give it their peculiar verdure, and the outlying villas, many of which have been restored, a look of cheerfulness. The roads are excellent near the town, and I was assured there were beautiful views within the reach of enterprising pedestrians.” (p. 110)