The Inner History of the Balkan War

0/5 ( ratings)

Nothing can exceed the beauty of the rocky ravine through which the northern road winds as it approaches Tirnova. Here and there the slopes are exquisitely green, dotted with forest trees and fragrant hawthorn in other places tall perpendicular crags obtain the mastery, and frown down upon the traveller to the right and left, while feet the foaming waters of the Jantra dash swiftly along, half hidden by the luxuriant foliage, as they carry the melted snows of the Balkans to the broad bosom of the Danube. A sudden turn of the road brings him to the entrance of the town, and it is not without a pang of disgust that he finds himself in a dirty, ill-paved, malodorous street, the closely built houses of which shut out all View of the lovely valley through which the river winds as it almost encircles the ancient city of kings and priests. The town lies on a rocky peninsula, and it is necessary to descend to the banks of the river, or, if possible, to scale the dizzy heights on the Opposite side, in order to appreciate the extreme beauty of its Situation. The houses cluster on the precipice like sea-birds on some ocean crag, the red-tiled roofs rising one above the other in picturesque confusion, here and there relieved with trees and tiny vineyards, which seem literally to hang over the rapid torrent beneath. On the other side of the river one of those serrated ridges of rock so commonly found in this part of Bulgaria, rises in the form of an amphitheatre, almost completely surrounding the town, and crowning a verdant slope which, on the western Side, is clothed with a forest of lofty trees.