After a while, the village musician was discovered, a short little fellow who played a quaint kind of two-stringed violin, and almost as soon as he sounded the weird, plaintive music, young girls with flowers entwined in their long plaited tresses, and others, slightly older, with the white handkerchiefs on their heads—the badge of matrimony—came trooping forth to perform for us the national dance—the _horo_.
Forming in a line, the youths and maidens crossed arms, linked their hands in each other’s belts, and then began a curious kind of dance, keeping step with the music and ever advancing and retreating, keeping it up for a full half-hour. Now and then the tune was changed, and with the tune the dance.
In the clear Eastern afterglow of evening, with the thin crescent moon slowly rising, it was a quaint and curious scene. The weird music, the strange costumes, the cries of the dancers, and the merry laughter of the girls, will long live within my memory as a picture worthy the brush of a great painter.
And as we drove back to Sofia through the silent, starlit night, I wondered what impression those simple-minded folk, so far removed from Western civilisation, would receive of our fairy-lamps, pasteboard, tinsel, imitation mountains, brass bands, and water-chute at Earl’s Court!
What would be the stories of their adventures in West Kensington and the wonders of London when they returned to remote Vladaja?
I had, like every other Englishman, always regarded Bulgaria as a _terra incognita_, where local manufactures were absent and where most goods were imported. Therefore a surprise awaited me one day when Monsieur M. V. Lascoff, Director of the Bulgarian Commercial and Industrial Museum at Sofia, took me round that institution, and showed me specimens of the various goods produced in the country. In the museum was a most wonderful collection of articles representing the manufactures of Bulgaria, ranging from violins to soap, and from table-covers manufactured from beautifully embroidered jacket sleeves to writing-ink and tinned fruits.
One of the prominent industries is the distillation of otto-of-roses in the Shipka district, where in summer the whole country is covered with blossom, an industry to which I will devote a chapter. Carpets, very similar to the dark crimson-and-blue Persian varieties, and goat-hair floor-coverings are made largely by the peasantry, who also weave by hand wonderfully fine gauzes, tissues, and dress-stuffs. Felt hats, blankets, pottery, and copies of antique filigree jewellery are also of peasant manufacture, and are really wonderfully done. The stranger has no idea, until shown this museum, of the rapid progress the country is making commercially.