My way was now through an interminable pine-forest, the road stretching
in a perfectly straight line and at a perceptible rise. Indeed it was
uphill work altogether. The ceaseless dripping of the rain made the
whole scene as cheerless as it well could be. The snow had turned to
cold dull rain, which was far more depressing. I wished the mineral
springs at Borsek had never been discovered. It was too late to turn
back to St Miklos, where I devoutly wished myself, so I had nothing to
do but plod on with my waterproof tight round me. It was impossible to
go fast, for in places the mud was very deep and the road was beset
with big stones.
It was dark when I reached Borsek, and again I wished I had never come.
The inn was very uncomfortable; there was no fireplace in any of the
rooms. The baths are only used in the height of summer, and if it turns
cold, as it does sometimes at this elevation, people I suppose must
freeze till it gets warm again. I had come a fortnight too late; the
world of fashion departs from Borsek at the end of August. Ten or twelve
springs rise within a short area, and vary curiously in quality and
temperature. The source which is principally used for exportation is
remarkable for the quantity of carbonic acid it contains. About 12,000
bottles are filled every day; some 1500 on an average break soon after
corking, owing partly to the bad quality of the bottles. There is a
glass manufactory in the place, and though they have good material they
turn out the work badly.
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