276 BIRD-HUNTING 



velvet lounges we are used to at home. A restau- 

 rant in these regions is a rough wine-shop used by 

 fishermen. The tables and wooden stools are of the 

 plainest and roughest description, and the whole 

 place has a dirty and unkempt appearance. Inside 

 there are perhaps a dozen Russian fishermen drink- 

 ing vodka, or tea, singing and shouting and making 

 an inconceivable din. The wooden stools are some- 

 times used as missiles and weapons when the vodka 

 has been indulged in too freely. 



As a rule I must say I found the Russian a 

 peaceable individual, except when exhilarated with 

 vodka ; but I saw one who had been drinking all 

 day seize a Tartar by the throat and fling him on to 

 the floor merely for presuming to sit at the same 

 table. The waiter, quite a boy, came up as they 

 were struggling and felt the Tartar to make sure he 

 carried no knife, as if he was used to such incidents. 



But on another occasion, while I was engaged in 

 blowing eggs under a tree, a drunken Russian who 

 approached, as he said, to talk English to the 

 Englishman, was seized and thrown into the Danube 

 by the inspector, who always seemed to consider 

 himself responsible for my safety. There he stood, 

 complaining in a whimpering tone like a whipped 

 baby. There would have been bloodshed in less 

 than no time if such a thing had happened in 

 Albania or Montenegro. Here, however, it is not 



