on him who has the experience for the first time.

[Illustration: FISHERMEN'S HUTS ON THE DANUBE.]

Peaceable as the upper Danube shores look, Arcadian as seems the
simplicity of their populations, the people are torn by contending
passions, and are watched by the lynx-eyed authorities of two or three
governments. The agents of the _Omladina_, the mysterious society which
interests itself in the propagation of Pan-slavism, have numerous
powerful stations in the Austrian towns, and do much to discontent the
Slavic subjects of Francis Joseph with the rule of the Hapsburgs. There
have also been instances of conspiracy against the Obrenovich dynasty,
now in power in Servia, and these have frequently resulted in armed
incursions from the Hungarian side of the stream to the other bank,
where a warm reception was not long awaited. In the humblest hamlet
there are brains hot with ambitious dreams daringly planning some scheme
which is too audacious to be realized.

The traveller can scarcely believe this when, as the boat stops at some
little pier which is half buried under vines and blossoms, he sees the
population indulging in an innocent festival with the aid of red and
white wine, a few glasses of beer, and bread and cheese. Families
mounted in huge yellow chariots drawn by horses ornamented with
gayly-decorated harnesses, come rattling into town and get down before a
weatherbeaten inn, the signboard above which testifies to respect and
love for some emperor of long ago. Youths and maidens wander arm in arm
by the foaming tide or sit in the little arbors crooning songs and
clinking glasses. Officers strut about, calling each other loudly by
their titles or responding to the sallies of those of their comrades who
fill the after-deck of the steamer. The village mayor in a braided
jacket, the wharfmaster in semi-military uniform, and the agent of the
steamboat company, who appears to have a remarkable penchant for gold
lace and buttons, render the throng still more motley. There is also, in
nine cases out of ten, a band of tooting musicians, and as the boat
moves away national Hungarian and Austrian airs are played. He would be
indeed a surly fellow who should not lift his cap on these occasions,
and he would be repaid for his obstinacy by the very blackest of looks.

Carlowitz and Slankamen are two historic spots which an Hungarian, if he
feels kindly disposed toward a stranger, will point out to him. The
former is known