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CHAPTER XII.
ROUMANIA.
LEAVING Constantinople I took the Austrian boat, which started at one in the afternoon and reached Varna at half-past two in the morning. Where the Bosphorus opens into the Black Sea the coasts of Europe and Asia appear equally sad and desolate. I saw nothing but forts and a few fishermen's huts. Cannons and poverty; admirable situations abandoned or laid waste by men; that is the picture of Turkey.
Crossing the Danube I admire the immense, majestic expanse of water, wider than the Bosphorus. Seafaring vessels ascend it with all sails set. Rustchuk was seen to the left on some reddish hills overlooking the river. A small steamer took us to Giurgevo, where the Eastern Express was waiting. Giurgevo consists of low houses of one story, like the Hungarian villages, but they are clean and in good repair, and I see no ruins. It is easy to perceive that we are no longer under Turkish rule. How different from Stamboul!
The Roumanian farms that I went through before Bucharest are better cultivated than those between Varna and the Danube; there was less waste ground, the maize land was better tilled, the corn was freer from weeds. The men working in the fields were dressed in white woollen clothes, with a sheepskin kalpac on their head, and the women wore a long tunic with a bright-coloured apron.