Sometimes we rode through a jungle of reeds, at least eight feet high;
then we had to scramble up a sandy bank. The horses were like cats, and
did their scrambling well; and at rare intervals we found ourselves on a
fair stretch of open lawn which fringes the dense forest. There were
bits here and there which reminded one of Devonshire, where the
luxuriant ferns dipped their waving plumes into the cool waters of the
rocky stream. In the forest, too, there were exquisite fairy-spots,
where, as Spenser says, is found "beauty enregistered in every nook."
After a time the way grew more wild in the character of the scenery, and
at length the route we took was so rough that we had to dismount and
lead our horses up the side of a steep hill. It was tiresome work, for
the heat was intense; but gaining the top, we were rewarded by a grand
view of the Balkan Mountains rising directly south. We ought to have
made out Widdin and a stretch of the Danube at Palanka; but the middle
of the day is the worst time for the details of a distant view.
Shortly after this we arrived at a small uncivilised-looking village.
The men were powerfully built in point of figure, and the women rather
handsome. Both sexes wear picturesque garments. This village, like many
others of the same kind, we found encircled by plum-orchards. Thousands
of barrels of dried plums are sent from Servia every year, not only to
Western Europe, but to America.
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