After leaving Mörül we got really into the wilds. A very bad road led
up through a magnificent valley, the scenery most romantic; indeed every
turn brought to view some new aspect, calling forth admiration. On our
right was a fine trout-stream of that delicious brown tint welcome to
the eye of the fisherman. At times the water was seen breaking over a
rocky bed with much foam and fret, and then would find for itself a
tranquil pool beneath the shadow of some mighty beech-tree.

The foliage of the forest, which closed down upon the valley, was simply
magnificent. The trees in the Southern Carpathians are far finer than
those of the Austrian Alps; they attain a greater average height. The
variety, too, was very striking in many places. The strip of green
pasturage that bordered our road was fringed with weeping birch-trees,
which gave a singular charm to the woodland scene.

A turn in the direction of the valley brought us within sight of the
high range of mountains forming the frontier between Hungary and
Roumania. Some of the higher summits were ominously covered with dirty
clouds. It was observed that they were lifting, at least some of the
most sanguine thought so. However, judging from my former experiences in
Upper Austria and Styria, I could not say that I thought it was a good
sign, supposing even they were lifting. I think myself there is better
chance of fine weather in high regions when the clouds descend and
disappear in the valleys.

Coming shortly to the foot of the mountain, the Sarka, which is upwards
of 6000 feet in height, we made a temporary halt. We had now to change
our _leiterwagen_ for horses. All signs of a road had long ceased. On
the green knoll in front were a herd of shaggy mountain horses with