he dogs of Orsova and of all the neighboring country have many of the
characteristics of their fellow-creatures in Turkey. Orsova is divided
into "beats," which are thoroughly and carefully patrolled night and
day by bands of dogs who recognize the limits of their domain and
severely resent intrusion. In front of the Hungarian Crown a large
dog, aided by a small yellow cur and a black spaniel mainly made up
of ears and tail, maintained order. The afternoon quiet was generally
disturbed about four o'clock by the advent of a strange canine, who,
with that expression of extreme innocence which always characterizes
the animal that knows he is doing wrong, would venture on to the
forbidden ground. A low growl in chorus from the three guardians was
the inevitable preliminary warning. The new-comer usually seemed much
surprised at this, and gave an astonished glance: then, wagging
his tail merrily, as much as to say, "Nonsense! I must have been
mistaken," he approached anew. One of the trio of guardians thereupon
sallied forth to meet him, followed by the others a little distance
behind. If the strange dog showed his teeth, assumed a defiant
attitude and seemed inclined to make his way through any number of
enemies, the trio held a consultation, which, I am bound to say,
almost invariably resulted in a fight. The intruder would either fly
yelping, or would work his way across the interdicted territory by
means of a series of encounters, accompanied by the most terrific
barking, snapping and shrieking, and by a very considerable effusion
of blood. The person who should interfere to prevent a dog-fight in
Orsova would be regarded as a lunatic. Sometimes a large white dog,
accompanied by two shaggy animals resembling wolves so closely that it
was almost impossible to believe them guardians of flocks of sheep,
passed by the Hungarian Crown unchallenged, but these were probably
tried warriors whose valor was so well known that they were no longer
questioned anywhere.

The gypsies have in their wagons or following in their train small
black dogs of temper unparalleled for ugliness. It is impossible to
approach a Tsigane tent or wagon without encountering a swarm of these
diminutive creatures, whose rage is not only amusing, but sometimes
rather appalling to contemplate. Driving rapidly by a camp one morning
in a farmer's cart drawn by two stout horses adorned with jingling
bells, I was followed by a pack of these dark-skinned animal