Dodge City times. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1876-1892, 1882-06-22
THE CHMDREN's JOURNEY.

A "Reminiscences of southern Austria.
There are few stranger places in the
world than the hilly region around the
head of the Gulf of Venice. and few
stranger people than the Slovaks who
inhabit it. Almost within sight of busy,
busting, populous Trieste. with its
bri>tling masts, and crowded quays.
and rafting carriages, and smart
modern hotels, you come sud-
denly upon a district dotted with
quaint little antique villages that
seem to have been dropped by Santa
Claus out OF his basket of villages
which might well have Rip Van Wrinkle
for chief magistrate, and the Seven
Sleepers Of Ephesus for tenants.
Up here on these warm dreary hill
sides, far from the busy world below,
no one seems to be in hurry, to get
angry, or to excite himself in any way.
The heavy wagons that creep along the
broad white dusty road seem to 30 or
not as they please, their drivers"
being usually fast asleep inside them.
These four or five sallow, bearded. low
browed peasants in gray frocks and
high boots, who are munching their
black bread and garlic in the shade of
Wonder tree, instead of chattering and
laughing like their Italian neighbors of
the valley. are silent as statutes. This
meek little church of crumblnp stone
was built before the Turks entered Con-
stantinople, and the language of its
builders is spoken here still
So completely, indeed. does the whole
OF this strange region reproduce what
the world was centuries ago that feel
quite out of place as | look out at it
through the window of a modern rail-
way ear, and hear call for tickets
in the midst of the enchanted ground.
But even the railway seems to have bor-
rowed something of the character of
its surroundings. For whole hour we
zig-zag at creeping pace up SEEM
lngly endless succession of terraced
ridges crowned with dark clumps of
thicket. Suddenly two or three beauti-
full little patches of green, sunny vine
yard peep out at us from between two !
huge black cliffs, down one of which. |
like Il fly walking on wall, comes a
sturdy peasant, brown and shapely as a
bronze statue. showing all his splendid
teeth in grin of indulgent contempt at
sight of the crawling train. The faint
tinkle Of bell makes me look up to see
a herd of goats feeding high above nv
head. while the next moment | catch
sight of a little red-tiled cottage tucked
away in the cleft of rock as If PLAYING
hide-and-seek.
AT length our train struggles up to
the summit of the mountain with
shrlll whistle of triumph. We thrust
our heads out of the window to see
where we have got to, when, 10! right
under our feet lie the clustering white
houses. and shining church domcs. and
countless masts, and bright blue waters .
Of Trieste which we left behind more ,
than an hour ago, as if bound by the
same spell which kept poor Christoval .
lramping round and round the church
all night, thinking he was going ,
straight home ,
But at this point a new turn is given :
10 my thoughts by the entrance of a !
group as picturesque as any painter
Gould wish; three children-a bright q
Eyed little fairy of eight, with checks as s
'ound and rosy as the apple which she I
$ eating. sturdy boy Of eleven, whose n
face is brOwner than his fiat e
Gather cap, and tall. slim, golden '
JARED girl .abOut2- wear older, taking ! :