TWELFTH DAY. 191 
The whole surroundings of this village are of the true 
Hungarian type, for wide plains stretch towards the north, 
and the monotony of the scene is only slightly varied by a 
number of small islands covered with copses. 
To the south we saw the chain of the Kalahaé hills floating 
indistinctly before us, with their tops swathed in grey rain- 
clouds. These low ugly heights extend nearly as far as 
Slankamen, and are really the eastern spurs of the Fruska- 
Gora. 
The immediate neighbourhood of our anchorage had a 
rather cheerless look, for an island, most of which was flooded, 
and across which we had to construct a very primitive bridge, 
separated us from the village, where the low houses were 
swimming in mire and muck, and the only high buildings 
which gave the place a slight varnish of civilization were 
its two churches, and the Greek monastery close to our 
vessel. Behind the village there was also a little wood of 
very fine trees. 
On our arrival we at once left the steamer, and getting 
into wretched country carts drove off to the Kovil forest, so 
renowned for its wealth of raptorial birds. 
While we were away shooting, our vessel was to go down 
the river to coal at Tittel, and we were to find it at its present 
anchorage when we returned in the evening. 
My brother-in-law and I decided to pursue the birds of 
prey in the same wood, the two Savants preferring to look for 
marsh and water-fowl in the swamps running along the 
river near our landing-place, while Bombelles, having special 
work to do, remained on board. 
We were most warmly greeted by the inhabitants, and 
drove off, followed by patriotic cheers. The vehicle in which 
Leopold and I had established ourselves was so peculiar that 
I must honour it with a short description. It was horsed by 
a couple of small, lean, and thoroughly miserable ponies. 
