Arrived at Belo-breska, our object was to get across the Danube, and
luckily we found a large flat-bottomed boat used for cattle. The owner
demanded a ducat (about nine shillings) for taking us across. I thought
it a monstrous charge, but the fellow had us in his power. I do not
think the Servians are much liked by those who have to do business with
them. From all I heard, Canning's lines about the sharp practice of some
nearer neighbours would apply very well to the Servians:--

"In matters of commerce the fault of the Dutch
Is giving too little, and asking too much."

No sooner had we landed on the Hungarian side of the river than up came
a customhouse official, who informed me that I must pay duty for my
horse. Of course, as a law-respecting Briton, I was ready enough to
comply; but the fellow could not tell me what the charge was, saying his
chief was absent, and might not be back for some hours.

This was exasperating to the last degree; the more so that it seemed so
stupid that the man left in charge could not consult a tariff of taxes,
or elicit from the villagers some information. He was stolidly
obstinate, and refused to let my horse go at any price, though I offered
him what H---- and I both thought a reasonable number of florins for the
horse-duty. In less than ten minutes I had worked myself into a rage--a
foolish thing to do with the thermometer at 96° in the shade; but H----
was provokingly calm, which irritated me still more. There is an old
French verse which, rendered into English, says--

"Some of your griefs you have cured,
And the sharpest you still have survived;