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Eothen - A. W. Kinglake

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AT Semlin I still was encompassed by the scenes and the
sounds of familiar life; the din of a busy world still vexed
and cheered me; the unveiled faces of women still shone in
the light of day.  Yet, whenever I chose to look southward, I
saw the Ottoman's fortress - austere, and darkly impending
high over the vale of the Danube - historic Belgrade.  I had
come, as it were, to the end of this wheel-going Europe, and
now my eyes would see the splendour and havoc of the East.

The two frontier towns are less than a cannon-shot distant,
and yet their people hold no communion.  The Hungarian on the
north, and the Turk and Servian on the southern side of the
Save are as much asunder as though there were fifty broad
provinces that lay in the path between them.  Of the men that
bustled around me in the streets of Semlin there was not,
perhaps, one who had ever gone down to look upon the stranger
race dwelling under the walls of that opposite castle.  It is
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