faithful Moslem to his spiritual duties; a watchman now warns his Christian brethren of danger to their worldly goods.

The Balaton lake, or Platten Sea, is about fifty miles long, and from one to eight broad, and abounds in excellent fish. There is not a single trading barge, nor a sailing boat on the lake. Never was there a people who had less natural disposition to navigation than the Hungarians.

One has a fine opportunity of seeing Hungarian fashionables at Fured. The Hungarian ladies are decidedly handsome; their characteristics are large, full eyes, very dark hair, with fair complexions; features of little regularity, but delicately formed, especially the mouth and chin. Dancing is a favorite amusement with the Hungarians, and one sees abundance of it at Fured. At the balls no introduction to the ladies is required; the first partner who offers is accepted. They whirl two or three times around the room, and then the gentlemen sit their ladies down, and away with others. Scarce a word seems to be exchanged; dancing is the object, and they never seem to lose sight of it. Except the dancers, the gentlemen stand in the middle of the room, while the ladies sit in a row all around the wall; the sexes, except for the purpose of dancing, seem to be as rigidly separated as in a Methodist meeting.

The Hungarian national dance is full of expression, and requires skill to perform it well. A lady and gentleman stand up, and dance opposite each other. The gentleman commences a variety of contortions, gradually increasing from calm to wild, jumping about in all manner of forms, and making innumerable steps; while the lady seems to keep up a sort of running accompaniment, very modest in its gestures, and always retiring as her partner advances. The dance becomes quicker and quicker as it goes on, till at last the gentleman seizes his partner in his arms, whirls her round and round, quits her, again seizes her, and again whirling round, at last conducts her to a seat, quite exhausted with fatigue. It is a complete pantomime: it shows the courtship of the lover, the coy reserve of the maiden, the gradual yielding of her reserve, the final triumph of love, and the wild joy it excites, in the various movements of the dance.

One of the most popular pilgrimages in the environs of Fured, is to the romantic Tihany, a fairy-like island, situated in the Balaton lake, containing a pretty village, and a monastery belonging to a community of monks. The whole of their little territory, about three leagues in circumference, is completely surrounded by a chain of rocks, where they have their own forests, pastures, corn-fields, and vineyards. It was formerly strongly fortified, and the remains of the walls, castle, and watch-tower, still exist; but the most interesting objects are the caverns, which the monks of the middle ages ingeniously constructed, for the purpose of protecting themselves, and their property against the frequent devastations of their predatory neighbors, the Turks.

CHAPTER II.

THE Puszta-Villages on the Puszta-Shepherds-the Bunda-Debreczin-Brace, the American Traveler-Singular Law-Polite Manners of the People-National Airs-Peasant Life-Attachment of the Peasantry to Kossuth-Religious Character of the HungariansVoyage down the Danube-Mohacs-Peter wardein-the Military Frontier-Life of the Military Peasants-Semlin and the Crusaders-Horrid Fate of Dosa-Wild Scenery of the Lower Danube--Tablet of Trajan-Entrance into Turkey--Interview with a Turkish Pacha.

MR. SPENCER, on his return to Pesth, embarked on board of a small steamer, for Galitz, a Turkish town on the Danube. But few passengers were on the boat, and these were principally Hungarian noblemen, on their way to the fashionable bath Mehadia, in the Banate.

The scenery, after leaving Pesth, was neither interesting nor striking. Water-mills, islands covered with foliage, a few straggling villages of the peasants, together with the primitive vessels of the Danube boatmen, lent their aid in giving some variety to the landscape; while numerous flocks of wild fowl rent the air with their piercing cries, and the very eagles, unaccustomed to being disturbed by man, in this half deserted country, approached the steamer within half pistol shot.

On their left, extended the vast plain, or "the Puszta" of Hungary, which occupies nearly the whole country from the Danube to the borders of Transylvania, being an area equal to half of Ohio. As this is an interesting part of Hungary, and out of the line of Mr. Spencer's observations, we derive the following description of the Puszta, and the character of its inhabitants, from

other sources:

Most of the Puszta is of a rich soil, and in places, covered with a rich black loam, of almost incredible fertility. In any other part of the civilized world we should see it teeming with habitations, and alive with agricultural industry-the envy of the surrounding province, the granary of nations. But it is very thinly settled, and poorly cultivated. Most of its inhabitants are Magyars, whose warlike propensities, continually indulged, until the middle of the last century, has checked the increase of population. The ease too, with which land is obtained, its richness, and the few wants of the people, have also been additional causes, tending to the same result. It has, however, cities, towns, and villages, generally large and populous. In some parts, the traveler meets them every three or four hours; in others, for a whole day, no such welcome sight comes to gladden his weary eye. It is generally a flat plain, and in places, the only inanimate objects which break the uniformity of the scene, is an occasional shepherd's hut, or the tall beam. of a well. Of animated nature, however, there is no lack; the constant hum of insects, the scream of birds of prey, and the lowing of cattle, evince that the Puszta is no desert. The phenomena of the mirage is oftened witnessed. Picturesque villages, beautiful lakes of water, and other like visions, rise before the traveler, only to vanish as he approaches them.

The feeling of solitude which a vast plain impresses on the imagination, is as solemn as that produced by the boundless ocean. This impression is more

strongly felt during the short moments of twilight, which follow the setting of the sun. It is just as the bright orb has disappeared below the level of the horizon, while yet some red tints, like glow-worm traces, mark the pathway he has followed; just when the busy hum of insects is hushed as by a charm, and stillness fills the air; when the cold chills of night creep over the earth; when comparative darkness has suddenly followed the bright glare of day; it is then the stranger feels how lone he is, and how awful such loneliness is, where the eye sees no boundary, and the ear detects no sign of living thing.

The Puszta villages are large; sometimes containing thousands of inhabitants. Nothing can be more simple or uniform than the plan on which they are built. One long, straight, and most preposterously wide street, generally forms the whole village; or it may be that this street is traversed at right angles by another equally long, wide, and straight. Smaller streets seldom occur; but when they do they are all parallel, or at right angles to each other. All the cottages are built on the same plan; a gable end, with two small windows, shaded by acacias or walnuts, faces the street. The houses are beautifully thatched with reeds, and the fences of the court-yard are often formed of the same material. The long one-storied house, roofed with wooden tiles, the best in the village-unless the Seigneur's château happens to be there, and behind which towers the odd, half-eastern steeple, is the dwelling of the priest; and should the traveler find himself benighted in the neighborhood, its rich and hospitable occupant would welcome the chanee which bestowed on him a guest. A little further, perhaps, stands another house, whose pretensions, if below the priest's, are above those of its neighbors. On the shutters is pasted up some official notice, and before the door stands the stocks. It is the dwelling of the "biro," or judge of the village. The town-house, the modest school-house, and the little inn, are the only other exceptions to the peasants' cottages. Beside the avenues of trees on each side, and in wet weather, sundry pools of water, or rather small lakes, the street is often interrupted by the tall pole of a well, or the shed of a horse-mill. neighborhood of the villages, a certain portion of the land is cultivated, perhaps a tenth of the whole; and produces rich crops of corn, wheat, hemp, flax, tobacco and wine. The gathering in of these scanty crops occupies the scanty population, without intermission, from the beginning of summer to the end of autumn.

The part of the plains left for pasture is occupied, during the summer months, by immense herds of cattle and flocks of sheep. In the winter, these are either brought up into the villages, or stabled in those solitary farms which form another striking peculiarity of the Puszta. Far from beaten track or village, the traveler observes a collection of buildings inclosed by a thick wall of mud or straw, with an arched gateway, and containing a large court surrounded by stables, barns, sheep-houses, and a shepherd's cottage or two. Here the cattle and sheep are wintered, for the sake of saving the draught of fodder; and here their guardians often remain the whole winter without exchanging a word with any other human beings than those composing their own little domestic community, for the trackles; snow renders communication

extremely difficult. In summer, the shepherd's life is even more monotonous. He often remains out for months together, until winter comes on, and obliges him to seek shelter.

Almost all the inhabitants of the plains, except some few German colonists, are true Magyars; and nothing is so well adapted to their disposition as the half-slothful, half-adventurous life of a Juhász, or Puszta shepherd. His dress is the loose linen drawers, and short shirt, descending scarcely below the breast, and is sometimes surmounted by the gayly embroidered waistcoat or jacket. His feet are protected by long boots or sandals, and his head by a hat of more than quaker proportions, below which hang two broad plaits of hair. The turned-up brim of the hat serves him for a drinking-cup; while the bag, which hangs from a belt round his neck, contains the bread and bacon which form his scanty meal. Over the whole is generally cast the Bunda, or hairy cloak; his shirt and drawers are black. Before he takes the field for the season, he carefully boils those two articles of dress in hog's lard; and, anointing his body and head with the same precious unguent, his toilet is finished for the next six months. The penetration of the reader will never dive into the motive for all this careful preparation, and, will be little inclined to believe it is for cleanliness! Yet so it is; for the lard effectually protects him against a host of little enemies by which he would be otherwise covered. To complete his accouterments, he must have a short pipe stuck in his boottop; and in his belt a tobacco-bag, with a collection of instruments, intended for striking fire, clearing the pipe, stopping the tobacco, pricking the ashes, etc.

But the Bunda deserves a more special notice; for in the whole annals of tailoring no garment ever existed better adapted to its purpose, and therefore more worthy of all eulogy, than the Hungarian Bunda. It is made in the form of a close cloak, without collar, and is composed of the skins of the longwooled Hungarian sheep, which undergo some slight process of cleaning, but by no means sufficient to prevent them retaining an odor not of the most aromatic kind. The wool is left perfectly in its natural state. The leather side is often very prettily ornamented: the seams are sowed with variouscolored leather cords, bouquets of flowers are worked in silk on the sides and borders, and a black lamb's-skin from Transylvania adorns the upper part of the back in the form of a cape. To the Puszta shepherd the Bunda is his house, his bed, his all. Rarely in the hottest day of summer, or the coldest of winter, does he forsake his woolly friend. He needs no change of dress; a turn of his Bunda renders him insensible to either extreme. Should the sun annoy him, as he is lazily watching his dogs hunting the field-mice, or the earless marmots, to supply their hungry stomachs-for, like their masters, they trust chiefly to their own talents for their support-he turns the wool outside, and either from philosophy or experience, knows how safely it protects him from the heat. Should early snow on the Carpathians send him chilling blasts, before the pastures are eaten bare, and before he can return to his village, he a second time turns the Bunda, but now with the wool inside, and again trusts to the non-conducting powers of its shaggy coat. The Guba, woven of coarse wool, presenting much the same appearance, is a cheap but poor imitation of the Bunda.

Debreczin, the capital of the plains, contains fifty thousand inhabitants. It well deserves the name of " the largest village in Europe," for its wide, unpaved streets, its one-storied houses, and the absence of all roads in its neighborhood, render it very unlike what one associates with the name of a town. It is celebrated in Hungary as well for its great fairs as for its manufactures, which, if rude, are well adapted to the wants of the people. This is the great mart for the produce of the north and east of Hungary-cattle, horses, tobacco, bacon, wine, wax, honey, flax, etc.; and a great part of the small traders of Transylvania supply themselves from hence with colonial produce, and the showy fineries of Vienna. The true Hungarian pipe, too, is another produce of Debreczin; and a curious affair it is, with its short stick and long bowl. At one end of the over-wide street-full twice as wide as any street in London—and contrasting ill with the one-storied houses, which stand on either side, towers the Reformed Church and College of Debreczin ; for Debreczin is not only the capital of Magyarism, but the capital of Calvinism also in Hungary. The Protestants of Hungary are divided into two classes, the Lutherans and the Calvinists. The former are found principally. in the north and east of Hungary, and include many Germans and Sclavacks; the latter are almost entirely Magyars, and chiefly inhabit the towns and villages of the Puszta.

It is in Debreczin and its neighborhood that the true Magyar character may be most advantageously studied. The language is here spoken in its greatest purity, and those national characteristics which a people always lose by much admixture with others, are there still prominent.

The Magyars are distinguished from all the other races of Hungary by a proud, haughty bearing, and a form finely proportioned, indicating strength and agility, although their height seldom exceeds the middle size. The eye is fiery, and the expression of the countenance extremely animated; this is much improved by the mustachio, which is never parted with from the first dawn of manhood to the extreme verge of life. True to the Nomadic life of his Asiatic ancestors, he is always to be found on the vast and fruitful plains of this extensive country, preferring the rich pastures, where his flocks and herds may roam at pleasure. The Arab of the Desert never practiced the virtue of hospitality with more unbounded liberality than the Magyar. The stranger is ever sure to find a cordial welcome, not only in the château of the magnate, but in the hut of the peasant. Their character is also distinguished for bravery, sincerity and open-heartedness, and their manners for a straightforward bluntness, indicating a greater love of truth than courtesy. Strongly attached to liberty, they are impatient of control, and submit with a bad grace to any new laws which may tend to encroach, even in the slightest degree, upon their national independence; consequently the well-ordered Austria, with all its complicated machinery, has never been enabled to impose upon them the yoke of passports, and a hundred other vexatious ordinances: hence, the traveler who has passed the frontier, may journey throughout the whole of Hungary without the slightest interruption. The Magyar is also so patriotic that he firmly believes his country to be the greatest in the world.