And now uprose from every tongue, and every heart, a hymn for the
longevity of Wucics and Petronievitch. "The solemn song for many days"
is the expressive title of this sublime chant. This hymn is so old
that its origin is lost in the obscure dawn of Christianity in the
East, and so massive, so nobly simple, as to be beyond the ravages of
time, and the caprices of convention.

The procession then returned, the band playing the Wucics march, to
the houses of the two heroes of the day.

We dined; and just as dessert appeared the whiz of a rocket announced
the commencement of fire-works. As most of us had seen the splendid
bouquet of rockets, which, during the fetes of July, amuse the
Parisians, we entertained slender expectations of being pleased with
an illumination at Belgrade. On going out, however, the scene proved
highly interesting. In the grand square were two columns _a la
Vicentina_, covered with lamps. One side of the square was illuminated
with the word Wucics, and the other with the word Avram in colossal
letters. At a later period of the evening the downs were covered with
fires roasting innumerable sheep and oxen, a custom which seems in all
countries to accompany popular rejoicing.

I had never seen a Servian full-dress ball, but the arrival of Wucics
and Petronievitch procured me the opportunity of witnessing an
entertainment of this description. The principal apartment in the new
Konak, built by prince Michael, was the ball-room, which, by eight
o'clock, was filled, as the phrase goes, by all "the rank and fashion"
of Belgrade. Senators of the old school, in their benishes and
shalwars, and senators of the new school in pantaloons and stiff
cravats. As Servia has become, morally speaking, Europe's youngest