stening to the ripple, the plash and the gurgle of the
swollen stream as it rushed impetuously against the banks. A group
of Servians, in canoes light and swift as those of Indians, had made
their way across the river, and were struggling vigorously to prevent
the current from carrying them below a favorable landing-place. These
tall, slender men, with bronzed faces and gleaming eyes, with their
round skull-caps, their gaudy jackets and ornamental leggings, bore
no small resemblance at a distance to certain of our North American
red-skins. Each man had a long knife in his belt, and from experience
I can say that a Servian knife is in itself a complete tool-chest.
With its one tough and keen blade one may skin a sheep, file a saw,
split wood, mend a wagon, defend one's self vigorously if need be,
make a buttonhole and eat one's breakfast. No Servian who adheres to
the ancient costume would consider himself dressed unless the crooked
knife hung from his girdle. Although the country-side along the Danube
is rough, and travellers are said to need protection among the Servian
hills, I could not discover that the inhabitants wore other weapons
than these useful articles of cutlery. Yet they are daring smugglers,
and sometimes openly defy the Hungarian authorities when discovered.
"Ah!" said Master Josef, the head-servant of the Hungarian Crown,
"many a good fight have I seen in mid-stream, the boats grappled
together, knives flashing, and our fellows drawing their pistols. All
that, too, for a few flasks of Negotin, which is a musty red, thick
wine that Heaven would forbid me to recommend to your honorable self
and companions so long as I put in the cellar the pearl dew of yonder
vineyards!" pointing to the vines of Orsova.

While the Servians were anxiously endeavoring to land, and seemed to
be in imminent danger of upsetting, the roll of thunder was heard and
a few drops of rain fell with heavy plash. Master Josef forthwith
began making shutters fast and tying the curtains; "For now we _shall_
have a wind!" quoth he. And it came. As by magic the Servian shore was
blotted out, and before me I could see little save the river, which
seemed transformed into a roaring and foaming ocean. The refugees,
the gypsies, the Jews, the Greeks, scampered in all directions. Then
tremendous echoes awoke among the hills. Peal after peal echoed and
re-echoed, until it seemed as if the cliffs must crack and crumble.
Sheets of rain were blown b