Next morning betimes we bade farewell to Siszek, and took a passage on the Save steamer for Brood, from which place we were to begin our foot journey through Bosnia. During the early part of the voyage there was little to see. Mud banks lined with willows, now and then villages of dark timber, where, within the palings of the large house-communities, were clustered together several dwelling-houses of tea-caddy shape and somewhat pagoda-like appearance, due to their having eaves projecting over the ground-floor as well as the upper storey. The Save, as we enter it, takes a muddier hue than the Kulpa, which at Siszek possessed something of the emerald purity of a limestone stream. Opposite the confluence of the Save and Unna was Jassenovac, taken and held for awhile by the Pashà of Bosnia in 1536, after the battle of Mohacz; it is a small town of about 1,100 inhabitants, and, being built on piles, is sometimes called New Amsterdam. It might also recall the Swiss lake-dwellings, to restorations of which many Granitza villages bear a certain family likeness; but I doubt if the boats that float off Jassenovac are not even more primitive than those of the old lake-dwellers, for they are simply great oak-trunks hollowed out in a Crusoe-like fashion. Further on we passed floating mills, paddle-boats of Noah’s Ark-like construction anchored in the current, or left behind us large flat barges which looked like giant cockchafers turned over on their backs. We are now on the watery boundary-line between Christendom and Islâm, and the contrast between the two shores is one of the most striking that can be imagined, recalling that between the Bulgarian and Wallachian banks of the Lower Danube. On one side Croat men, white tunicked and white breeked, with blue vests, and fringes of homely lace to their trowsers; bare-legged women, with the shortest of apron-skirts, washing their linen in the shallows, coifed in the rosy Rubatz. Now and then a town, white houses and bulbous church-spires, and citizens in the mourning hues of Western civilisation. On the other bank minarets and narrow wooden streets, gorgeous Turkish officials, brilliant maidens and mummied dames, cheerful fezzes and red Bosnian turbans; and it is to be remarked that the men on the Turkish bank, owing to their wearing such comparatively shadeless head-gear, are distinctly more sunburnt than the Slavonians of the Austrian side in their broad, black, felt wideawakes. The one side was cold and dull, if comparatively clean; the other dirty but magnificent.