of the last undulation of the slope of Bulgaria, and again
greeted the ever-noble valley of the Danube. Roustchouk lay before me
hitherward, and beyond the river, the rich flat lands of Wallachia
stretched away to the north.

As I approached the town, I perceived it to be a fortress of vast
extent; but as it is commanded from the heights from which I was
descending, it appeared to want strength if approached from the south.
The ramparts were built with great solidity, but rusty, old,
dismounted cannon, obliterated embrasures, and palisades rotten from
exposure to the weather, showed that to stand a siege it must undergo
a considerable repair. The aspect of the place did not improve as we
rumbled down the street, lined with houses one story high, and here
and there a little mosque, with a shabby wooden minaret crowned with
conical tin tops like the extinguishers of candles.

I put up at the khan. My room was without furniture; but, being lately
white-washed, and duly swept out under my own superintendence, and laid
with the best mat in the khan, on which I placed my bed and carpets,
the addition of a couple of rush-bottomed chairs and a deal table,
made it habitable, which was all I desired, as I intended to stay only
a few days. I was supplied with a most miserable dinner; and, to my
horror, the stewed meat was sprinkled with cinnamon. The wine was bad,
and the water still worse, for there are no springs at Roustchouk, and
they use Danube water, filtered through a jar of a porous sandstone
found in the neighbourhood. A jar of this kind stands in every house,
but even when filtered in this way it is far from good.

On hearing that the Deftendar spoke English perfectly, and had long
resided in England, I felt a curiosity to see him, and accordingly
presented myself at the Konak, and was shown to the divan of the
Deftendar. I pulled aside a pendent curtain, and entered a room of
large dimensions, faded decorations, and a broad red divan, the
cushions of which were considerably the worse for wear. Such was the
bureau of the Deftendar Effendi, who sat surrounded with papers, and
the implements of writing. He was a man apparently of fifty-five
years of age, slightly inclining to corpulence, with a very short
neck, surmounted by large features, coarsely chiselled; but not devoid
of a certain intelligence in his eye, and dignity in general effect.
He spoke English with a correct accent, but slowly, occasionally
stopping to r