At Drenkova itself there is nothing to be seen but the inn just mentioned and a barrack for soldiers.  We were here shewn the vessel which was wrecked, with passengers on board, in 1839, in a journey up the Danube.  Eight persons who happened to be in the cabin lost their lives, and those only who were on deck were saved.

March 28th.

Early in the morning we embarked on board the Tunte, a vessel furnished with a cabin.  The bed of the Danube is here more and more hemmed in by mountains and rocks, so that in some places it is not above eighty fathoms broad, and glides with redoubled swiftness towards its goal, the Pontus Euxinus or Black Sea.

On account of the falls which it is necessary to pass, between Drenkova and Fetislav, the steamer must be changed for a small sailing vessel.  The voyage down the stream could indeed be accomplished without danger, but the return would be attended with many difficulties.  The steamers, therefore, remain behind at Drenkova, and passengers are conveyed down the river in barks, and upwards (since the accident of 1839) in good commodious carriages.

To-day the cold was quite as severe as it had been yesterday so that but for the politeness of a fellow-passenger, who lent me his bunda (great Hungarian fur), I should have been compelled to remain in the little cabin, and should thus have missed the most interesting points of the Danube.  As it was, however, I wrapped myself from head to foot in the fur cloak, took my seat on a bench outside the cabin, and had full leisure to store my memory with a succession of lovely scenery, presenting almost the appearance of a series of lake views, which continued equally picturesque until we had almost reached Alt-Orsova.

A couple of miles below Drenkova, near Islas, the sailors suddenly cried, “The first fall!” I looked up in a fever of expectation.  The water was rising in small waves, the stream ran somewhat faster, and a slight rushing sound was to be heard.  If I had not been told that the Danube forms a waterfall here, I should certainly never have suspected it to be the case.  Between Lenz and Krems I did not find either the rocks or the power of the stream much more formidable.  We had, however, a high tide, a circumstance which diminishes both the danger of the journey and the sublimity of the view.  The numerous rocky points, peering threateningly forth at low tide, among which the steersman must pick his way with great care, were all hidden from our sight.  We glided safely over them, and in about twenty minutes had left the first fall behind us.  The two succeeding falls are less considerable.

On the Austro-Wallachian side a road extends over a distance of fourteen to sixteen miles, frequently strengthened with masonry, and at some points hewn out of the solid rock.  In the midst of this road, on a high wall of rock, we see the celebrated “Veteran Cave,” one of the most impregnable points on the banks of the Danube.  It is surrounded by redoubts, and is admirably calculated to command the passage of the river.  This cave is said to be sufficiently spacious to contain 500 men.  So far back as the time of the Romans it was already used as a point of defence for the Danube.  Some five miles below it we notice the “Trajan’s Tablet,” hewn out of a protruding rock.