through Szeklerland--Warnings about robbers--Bueksad--A look
at the sulphur deposits on Mount Buedos--A lonely lake--An
invitation to Tusnad.

Feeling curious not only about the geology of the Szeklerland, but
interested also in the inhabitants, I resolved to pursue my journey by
going through what is called the Csik. I made all my arrangements to
start, but wet weather set in, and I remained against my inclination at
Kronstadt, for I was impatient now to be moving onwards.

When I was in Hungary Proper they told me that travelling in
Transylvania was very dangerous, and that it was a mad notion to think
of going about there alone. Now that I was in Transylvania, I was amused
at finding myself most seriously warned against the risk of riding alone
through the Szeklerland. Every one told some fresh story of the
insecurity of the roads. Curiously enough, foreigners get off better
than the natives themselves; people of indifferent honesty have been
known to say, "One would not rob a stranger." It happened to me that
one day when riding along--in this very Szeklerland of ill-repute--I
dropped my Scotch plaid, and did not discover my loss till I arrived at
the next village, where I was going to sleep. I was much vexed, not
thinking for a moment that I should ever see my useful plaid again.
However, before the evening was over, a peasant brought it into the inn,
saying he had found it on the road, and it must belong to the Englishman
who was travelling about the country. The finder would not accept any
reward!

There was a fair in the town the day I left Kronstadt. The field where
it is held is right opposite Hotel "No. 1," and the whole place was
crowded with country-folks in quaint costumes--spruce, gaily-dressed
people mixed up with Wallack cattle-drivers and other picturesque
rascals, such as gipsies and Jews, and here and there a Turk, and, more
ragged than all, a sprinkling of refugee Bulgarians. Though it was a
scene of strange incongruities--a very jumble of races--yet it was by no
means a crowd of roughs; on the contrary, the well-dressed, well-to-do
element prevailed. The thrifty Saxon was very much there, intent on
making a good bargain; the neatly-dressed Szekler walked about holding
his head on his shoulders with an air of resolute self-respect--they
are unmistakable, are these proud rustics. Many a fair-haired Saxon
maiden too tripped along, eyeing askance the peculiar "get-up" of the
Englishman