Fiume has 40,000 inhabitants of a curiously mixed blend; the majority, between 17,000 and 18,000, are Italians; there are only about 3000 Hungarians and between 7000 and 8000 Croatians, while Illyrians, Germans and Wends form the surplus. The town is governed by a royal Hungarian governor, and is described as _corpus separatum_ of Hungary. It possesses picturesque, narrow, and irregular streets in the old part and a fine new quarter also. There are relics of Roman occupation, especially well seen in a triumphal arch dating from Roman days; and it has also a cathedral dating from 1377. Millions have been spent on the harbour, which has a breakwater about 4000 feet in length. The chief factories and works in the town are the Whitehead torpedo factory, paper-mills, paraffin-refining works, and shipbuilding yards. Beyond the bridge over the Fiumara, on Croatian territory, adjoining Fiume, is the Croatian town of Susak, well-built and pleasant. In the mountain heights above, through which the train has wound down to the coast there are many tunnels and vast precipices. The terrible wind called the Bora, which rages around here at times, is so violent that trains have had to be protected by the building of a high stone wall along the side of the line. Before this was done they were sometimes actually caught up by the whirling force of the wind, swept from the lines and dashed into the depths below the embankment on which they traversed the mountain side. The western slopes of the tableland, which here drops to the sea, are called the Karst, and differ from the pleasant wooded heights inland already described. The Karst is in three terraces, formed of gigantic blocks of stone heaped on each other in irregular masses, and it is only in the crevices and deep hollows that any sort of vegetation, and then only scraggy and stunted bushes, will grow. Forests used to extend over these heights, but their exposure to the full force of the terrible Bora, and their wanton destruction by man during the Venetian occupation, has stripped the rocks bare, and they stand ugly and ragged, vast and lonely, as a rampart to the ocean.