Paton, Andrew Archibald, 1811-1874 / 2008-06-27 00:00:00
After sunset we arrived at Dreucova, and next morning went on board
the steamer, which conveyed me up the Danube to Semlin. The lower town
of Semlin is, from the exhalations on the banks of the river,
frightfully insalubrious, but the cemetery enjoys a high and airy
situation. The people in the town die off with great rapidity; but, to
compensate for this, the dead are said to be in a highly satisfactory
state of preservation. The inns here, once so bad, have greatly
improved; but mine host, zum Golden Lowen, on my recent visits, always
managed to give a very good dinner, including two sorts of savoury
game. I recollect on a former visit, going to another inn, and found
in the dining-room an individual, whose ruddy nose, and good-humoured
nerveless smile, denoted a fondness for the juice of the grape, and
seitel after seitel disappeared with rapidity. By-the-bye, old father
Danube is as well entitled to be represented with a perriwig of grapes
as his brother the Rhine. Hungary in general, has a right merry
bacchanalian climate. Schiller or Symian wine is in the same parallel
of latitude as Claret, Oedenburger as Burgundy, and a line run
westwards from Tokay would almost touch the vineyards of Champagne.
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