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 Kalahac 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. 



