It was well on in the afternoon before we got to Dognacska, a mere mining village, but prettily situated in a narrow valley.  On approaching, we found it to be a more uncivilised place than we had expected, and we had not expected much.  The children ran away screaming at the sight of two horsemen, so travellers, I expect, are unknown in these parts.  We found out a little inn, indicated by a wisp of straw hanging above the door, and here we asked to be accommodated; they were profuse in promises, but as there was no one to look after the horses, we had to attend to them ourselves.  The woman of the house said the men were all out, but would be back presently.  We only took a little bread and cheese, but ordered a substantial supper to be ready for us on our return later in the evening.  The fact was, we were in a hurry to be off to look at the works.  Lead, silver, iron, and copper are found at Dognacska, but the working at present is a dead-alive operation.  The blast-furnaces for making pig-iron are of recent construction, but the smelting-furnaces were very antiquated.

It was the same answer everywhere, “All belongs to the Marquis of Carrabas;” in other words, the States Railway Company owns both mines and forests in all directions throughout the Banat, though at the same time I was told that they do not undertake metallic mining.

From what I gathered it would seem that the mines round here are not really very rich.  You cannot depend on the working as in Cornwall, for they are without regular lodes.  A rich “pocket” occurs here and there, but then is lost, the deposit not holding on to any depth.

We made a considerable round, and returned with appetites very sharp set, and counted on the chicken with paprika that we had ordered to be ready for us.  On arriving at the little inn, great was our disgust to find it utterly silent and deserted; neither man, woman, nor child was to be found in or about the place.  With some difficulty we caught some children, who were peering at us behind the wall of a neighbour’s house, and from these blubbering little animals, who I believe thought we were going to make mince meat of them, we at length extracted the fact that the people of the inn were gone off haymaking.  This was really too bad, for if they had only told us, we could have made our arrangements accordingly, but here we were starving and not the remotest prospect of supper.  There was no use wasting unparliamentary language, so I began foraging in all directions, while H——­ busied himself in cutting up wood to make a fire, a process not too easy with an uncommonly blunt axe.  My researches into the interior of the dwelling were not encouraging; the fowl was not there, neither was the paprika.  At length I discovered some eggs and a chunk of stale bread stowed away in a corner; there were a great many things in that corner, but “they were not of my search”—­ignorance is bliss.