sufficiently exceptional to be a novelty, and so it is until one gets
south of Peterwardein, when the national costumes of Slavonia and Croatia
are gradually merged into the tasselled fez, the many-folded waistband,
and the loose, flowing pantaloons of Eastern lands. Here at Batainitz
the feet are encased in rude raw-hide moccasins, bound on with leathern
thongs, and the ankle and calf are bandaged with many folds of heavy red
material, also similarly bound. The scene around our gasthaus, after our
arrival, resembles a popular meeting; for, although a few of the villagers
have been to Belgrade and seen a bicycle, it is only within the last six
months that Belgrade itself has boasted one, and the great majority of
the Batainitz people have simply heard enough about them to whet their
curiosity for a closer acquaintance. More-over, from the interest taken
in my tour at Belgrade on account of the bicycle's recent introduction
in that capital, these villagers, but a dozen kilometres away, have heard
more of my journey than people in villages farther north, and their
curiosity is roused in proportion.

We are astir by five o'clock next morning; but the same curious crowd
is making the stone corridors of the rambling old gasthaus impassable,
and filling the space in front, gazing curiously at us, and commenting
on our appearance whenever we happen to become visible, while waiting
with commendable patience to obtain a glimpse of our wonderful machines.
They are a motley, and withal a ragged assembly; old women devoutly cross
themselves as, after a slight repast of bread and milk, we sally forth
with our wheels, prepared to start; and the spontaneous murmur of
admiration which breaks forth as we mount becomes louder and more
pronounced as I turn in the saddle and doff my helmet in deference to
the homage paid us by hearts which are none the less warm because hidden
beneath the rags of honest poverty and semi-civilization. It takes but
little to win the hearts of these rude, unsophisticated people. A two