and is a fair sample of the manner in which conversation is carried on between us.  It is quite astonishing how readily two persons constantly together will come to understand each other through the medium of a few words which they know the meaning of in common.  Scores of ladies and gentlemen, the latter chiefly military officers, are enjoying a promenade in the rain-cooled atmosphere, and there is no mistaking the glances of interest with which many of them favor-Igali.  His pronounced sportsmanlike make-up attracts universal attention and causes everybody to mistake him for myself — a kindly office which I devoutly wish he would fill until the whole journey is accomplished.  In the Casino garden a dozen bearded musicians are playing Slavonian airs, and, by request of the assistant editor, they play and sing the Slavonian national anthem and a popular air or two besides.  The national musical instrument of Slavonia is the “tamborica"-a small steel-stringed instrument that is twanged with a chip-like piece of wood.  Their singing is excellent in its way, but to the writer’s taste there is no comparison between their tamboricas and the gypsy music of Hungary.  There are no bicycles in all Eszek save ours — though Mr. Freund, who has lately returned from Paris, has ordered one, with which he expects to win the admiration of all his countrymen — and Igali and myself are lionized to our hearts’ content; but this evening we are quite startled and taken aback by the reappearance of the assistant editor, excitedly announcing the arrival of a tricycle in town.  Upon going down, in breathless anticipation of summarily losing the universal admiration of Eszek, we find an itinerant cobbler, who has constructed a machine that would make the rudest bone-shaker of ancient memory seem like the most elegant product of Hartford or Coventry in comparison.  The backbone and axle-tree are roughly hewn sticks of wood, ironed equally rough at the village blacksmith’s; and as, for a twenty-kreuzer piece, the rider mounts and wobbles all over the sidewalk for a short distance, the spectacle would make a stoic roar with laughter, and the good people of the Lower Danubian provinces are anything but stoical.  Six o’clock next morning finds us travelling southward into the interior of Slavonia; but we are not mounted, for the road presents an unridable surface of mud, stones, and ruts, that causes my companion’s favorite ejaculatory expletive to occur with more than its usual frequency.  For a portion of the way there is a narrow sidepath that is fairly ridable, but an uninvitingly deep ditch runs unpleasantly near, and no amount of persuasion can induce my companion to attempt wheeling along it.  Igali’s bump of cautiousness is fully developed, and day by day, as we journey together, I am becoming more and more convinced that he would be an invaluable companion to have accompany one around the world; true, the journey would occupy a decade, or thereabout, but one would