Post-office at Karansebes-Good headquarters for a sportsman-Preparations for a week in the mountain-The party starting for the hunt-Adventures by the way-Fine trees-Game-Hut in the forest-Beauty of the scenery in the Southern Carpathians.

We put up at the Grünen Baum, the principal inn at Karansebes. My first business was to worry everybody about my guns, which I had telegraphed should be sent from Buda Pest to this place. I am afraid the postmaster will never hear the name of an Englishman without associating the idea of a fussy, irritable, impatient being, such as I was, about my guns. Of course it was very provoking that they had not arrived. This postmaster was a pattern official, an honour to his calling; he not only bore with me, but he offered to lend me a gun if mine did not come. In Germany there is a saying, "So grob wie ein postbeamter." The postmaster of Karansebes was a glorious exception to the rule.

On one occasion, while I was waiting in the office for an answer to one of the many telegrams that I had despatched, a peasant woman came in with a letter without an address. The postmaster seeing this, and thinking she could not write, asked her to whom he should address the letter. She was dreadfully indignant with him for his well-meant offer, and said, "My son knows all about it-it is no business of yours."

"But I can't forward it without an address," objected the postmaster.

"Yes, you must," she rejoined, getting more and more angry-"you must; that's what you are paid for doing."

Here some other people came to the rescue, and by dint of all talking at once for full twenty minutes, they induced her to give her son's address; but it was a clear case of "convinced against her will," for as she quitted the office she turned round and said, with a shake of the head, "It's all very well to put that; but my son will know who it is from."

Karansebes is not at all a bad place as headquarters for the sportsman. In the neighbourhood there is very good snipe-shooting in spring and autumn. The fishing too is excellent for trout and grayling. The bear, the wolf, and the chamois are to be met with on the heights, which form this portion of the great horseshoe of the Carpathians.

The day before our expedition we were occupied with a few necessary preparations. When these matters were settled to our satisfaction, we went off in good time to secure a few hours' sleep, as we were to start at four a.m.

F-- and I were up in capital time, eager for the day's work, and anxious, moreover, not to keep the rest of the party waiting. There was an Austrian general, however, amongst the number, and therefore we might safely have slept another hour. The morning was very unpromising, the rain descended in a dull persistent downpour. We tried to hope it was the pride of the morning. The prospect was dreary enough to damp the spirits of some of our party. One man found that urgent private affairs called him hence; another averred he had an inflammatory sore throat. I expected a third would say he had married a wife and could not come. Happily, however, the weather cleared a little as the morning advanced, and further desertions were arrested.

At length the whole party got off in sundry leiterwagen, a vehicle which has no counterpart in England, and the literal rendering of a ladder-waggon hardly conveys the proper notion of the thing itself. This long cart, it is needless to say, is without springs; but it has the faculty of accommodating itself to the inequalities of the road in a marvellous manner. It has, moreover, a snake-like vertebr?, and even twists itself when necessary.

My guns never came after all, and I was obliged to borrow. The one lent me had one barrel smooth-bore, the other rifled.

We drove for some distance along the Hatszeg highroad, then turned off to the right. Continuing our course for some time, we came to the pretty little village of M?rül, where we breakfasted. It was quite the cleanest and neatest Wallack settlement that I had seen at all. It is celebrated for the beauty of its women. Several very pretty girls in their picturesque costume were gathered round the village well, engaged in filling their classical-shaped pitchers. Every movement of their arms was grace itself. The action was not from the elbow, but from the shoulder, whereby one sees the arm extended in the curved line of beauty, instead of sticking out at a sharp angle, as with us Western races.

The weather had improved considerably. Our breakfast, for which we halted on the further outskirts of the village, was very agreeably discussed amidst much general good-humour. The peasants regarded us with frank undisguised curiosity, coming round to watch our proceedings.

After leaving M?rül we got really into the wilds. A very bad road led up through a magnificent valley, the scenery most romantic; indeed every turn brought to view some new aspect, calling forth admiration. On our right was a fine trout-stream of that delicious brown tint welcome to the eye of the fisherman. At times the water was seen breaking over a rocky bed with much foam and fret, and then would find for itself a tranquil pool beneath the shadow of some mighty beech-tree.

The foliage of the forest, which closed down upon the valley, was simply magnificent. The trees in the Southern Carpathians are far finer than those of the Austrian Alps; they attain a greater average height. The variety, too, was very striking in many places. The strip of green pasturage that bordered our road was fringed with weeping birch-trees, which gave a singular charm to the woodland scene.

A turn in the direction of the valley brought us within sight of the high range of mountains forming the frontier between Hungary and Roumania. Some of the higher summits were ominously covered with dirty clouds. It was observed that they were lifting, at least some of the most sanguine thought so. However, judging from my former experiences in Upper Austria and Styria, I could not say that I thought it was a good sign, supposing even they were lifting. I think myself there is better chance of fine weather in high regions when the clouds descend and disappear in the valleys.

Coming shortly to the foot of the mountain, the Sarka, which is upwards of 6000 feet in height, we made a temporary halt. We had now to change our leiterwagen for horses. All signs of a road had long ceased. On the green knoll in front were a herd of shaggy mountain horses with their Wallack drivers-as wild a scene as could well be imagined. Here we unpacked our various stores of provisions, fortified ourselves with a good dinner, and made necessary arrangements for the change of locomotion. There was some trouble in properly distributing the things for the pack-horses. Care had to be taken to give each horse his proper weight and no more. It was also very important to see that the packages were rightly balanced to avoid shifting.

I had left my own horse at Karansebes, because he was in need of rest; so F-- and I had to select horses from amongst the promiscuous lot brought up by the "hunt." We chose out a couple of decent-looking animals-indeed I rather prided myself on my selection, drew attention to his good points, and rallied F-- on his less successful choice.

At length everything was ready. Judging from the amount of baggage, the commissariat department was all right. The order of march was this: ten gentlemen, like so many knights on horseback with lances in rest, rode on in front, in Indian file: our long alpen-stocks really somewhat resembled lances. Each man had his gun slung behind. In the rear of these gallant knights came a dozen pack-horses heavily laden, each with his burden well covered up with sheepskins; behind again followed a lot of Wallacks-these irregulars were to act as beaters.

On we went in this order for seven hours. The pace was so slow that I confess it made me impatient, but our path through the forest was too narrow and too steep to do more than walk our horses in single file. The character of the vegetation visibly changed as we ascended. We left the oak and beech, and came upon a forest of pine-trees, and I thought of the lines-

"This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,

Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight."

The grey moss which hangs in such abundant festoons from the fir-trees has a most singular effect, almost weird at times. These ancients of the forest, with their long grey beards and hoary tresses, look very solemn indeed in the gloaming.

What unheeded wealth in these majestic trees, which grow but to decay! Enormous trunks lay on every side: some had passed into the rottenness which gives new life; and here fungi of bright and varied hues, grey lichen, and green moss preserved together the contour of the gigantic stem, which, prostrate and decayed now, had once held its head high amongst the lordlings of the forest.

In the last century these woods were tenanted by wild aurochs and the ibex, but both are extinct now in Hungary. Red-deer and the roe are still common enough. "The wild-cat, fox, badger, otter, marten, and other smaller carnivora are pretty numerous." Mr Danford[11] goes on to say that "feathered game is certainly not abundant. There are a good many capercailzie in the quiet pine-woods, pretty high up, but they are only to be got at during the pairing season. Hazel-grouse too are common in the lower woods, but are not easily found unless the call-system be adopted. Black game are scarcely worth mentioning as far as sport is concerned. Partridges scarce, not preserved, and the hooded crows and birds of prey making life rather hard for them." Mr Danford further speaks of the chamois-eagle as "not rare in the higher mountains." The fisher-eagle "generally distributed." The king-eagle also "not rare." The carrion-vulture "common throughout the country," also the red-footed falcon. At one time and another I have myself seen most of these birds in the Carpathians, which form the frontier between Transylvania and Roumania.

Meanwhile I must resume the description of our march, which was a very slow affair. As we ascended, the trees decreased in size. We had long ago left the deciduous foliage behind us; but the pines themselves were smaller, interspersed with what is called "crooked timber," which grows in grotesque dwarf-like forms. The forest at last diminished into mere sparse shrubs, and finally we reached the treeless region, called in German the Alpen, where there is rich pasturage for cattle and sheep during the summer. We were now on tolerably level ground, and I thought we should get a trot out of our wretched horses, but no, not a step faster would they go. I believe we went at the rate of about two miles and a half an hour. We tried everything-I mean F--and I-to get the animals to stretch out over the turf; but they set to kicking vigorously, backing and rearing, so that to avoid giving annoyance to our companions, we were obliged to give in, and let the brutes go their own pace.

We had gone but a very little way on the Alpen before we found ourselves enveloped in a thick mist, added to which the track itself became uncertain. We went on: if the saying "slow but sure" has any truth in it, we ought to have been sure enough. My horse reminded me of the reply of the Somersetshire farmer, who, when he was asked if his horse was steady, answered, "He be so steady that if he were a bit steadier he would not go at all." Notwithstanding that we moved like hay-stacks, and the cavalcade seemed to be treading on one another's heels, yet, ridiculous to say, we got separated from our baggage. Darkness set in, and with it a cold drizzling rain-not an animated storm that braces your nerves, but a quiet soaking rain, the sort of thing that takes the starch out of one's moral nature.

All at once I was aroused from my apathy by a shout from the front calling out to the cavalcade to halt. I must observe a fellow on foot was leading the way in quality of guide. A pretty sort of a guide he turned out to be. He had led us quite wrong, and in fact found all of a sudden that he was on the verge of a precipice!

There was a good deal of unparliamentary language, expressed in tones both loud and deep. It was an act of unwisdom, however, to stop there in a heap on the grassy slope of a precipice, swearing in chorus at the poor devil of a Wallack. I turned my horse up the incline, resolved to try back, hoping to regain the lost track. It was next to impossible to halt, for we had not even got our plaids with us-everything was with the baggage-horses. Of course "some one had blundered." We all knew that! The guide stuck to it to the last that "he had not exactly lost his way." The fellow was incapable of a suggestion, and would have stood there arguing till doomsday if we had not sent him off with a sharp injunction to find some shepherds, and that quickly, who could take us to the rendezvous. Being summer time, there would be many shepherds about in different places on the Alpen, and the Wallack could hardly fail to encounter some herdkeeper before long.

We waited, as agreed, on the same spot nearly an hour, and then we heard a great shouting to the right of us. This was the guide, who I believe must have been born utterly without the organ of locality. He had found some shepherds, he told us subsequently, not long after he had left us, but then the fool of a fellow could not find his way back to us, to the spot where we agreed to wait for him. There was a great deal of shouting before we could bring him to our bearings: the fog muffled the sound, adding to the perplexity.

The shepherds now took us in tow. We had to go back some distance, and then make a sharp descent to the right, which brought us to the rendezvous, and we effected at last a junction with our lost luggage. Arriving at the hut, which had been previously built for us, we were delighted to find a meal already prepared; it was in fact a very elaborate supper, but I think we were all too exhausted to appreciate the details. I know I was very glad to wrap my plaid round me and stretch myself on the floor.

The next morning we were up with the first streak of dawn. It was with some curiosity that I looked round at our impromptu dwelling and its surroundings, upon which we had descended in total obscurity the night before. The position of our camping-place was not badly chosen; we were just within the girdle of forest above which rises the grassy Alpen. About forty yards to the left or north-east of us was a small stream, the boundary, it seems, between the Banat and Transylvania. We were provided with two necessaries of life, wood and water, close at hand.

The hut, however, was more picturesque than practical, as subsequent events proved. The Wallacks had constructed it by driving two strong posts into the ground about ten yards apart. A tree was placed across, with a couple of smaller supports, and on this was made on a rough framework a sloping roof to the windward side. The roofing consisted entirely of leaves: it is called in German laubhütte, but is in fact more of a parasol than an umbrella. I should have preferred a hut made of bark, such as I have seen used by shepherds and sportsmen in Styria.

The interior of the hut had a droll appearance. Bacon, sausages, meal-bags, and various other things were hanging from pegs fastened into the supports of the roof; and the gear belonging to ten sportsmen were stowed away somehow. The place might have passed for the head-centre of a band of brigands.

The mountain on which we were encamped forms part of the western side of a long valley, at the bottom of which, quite 2000 feet below us, is a magnificent trout-stream. The sides of this valley are clothed with dense forests, with broken cliffs obtruding in places. The height of the Carpathians in this part of the range must not be taken as a gauge of the scenery, which quite equals in grandeur the higher Alps in many parts of Switzerland and the Tyrol. Comparisons are dangerous, for the lovers of Switzerland will silence me with glaciers and eternal snow; these advantages I must concede, still contending, however, for the extreme beauty and wildness of the Southern Carpathians. The characteristics of the scenery are due to the broken forms of the crystalline rocks, the singular occurrence of sharp limestone ridges, and the deep forest-clad valleys, traversed by mountain torrents, which everywhere diversify the scene.

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