ling about the country.

I rode over to Tusnad the following day, and found it, as I had been led
to expect, a very picturesque little place, a number of Swiss cottages
dropped down in the clearing of the forest, with a good "restauration,"
built by Count M---- himself. When I was there the season was over; but
I am told that it is full of fashionables in June and July, and that the
waters have an increasing reputation. My attention was drawn to the
singular fact of two springs bubbling up within six feet of each other,
which are proved by chemical analysis to be distinctly different in
composition. I fancy Count M---- was much amused at the fact of an
English gentleman travelling about alone on horseback, without any
servants or other impedimenta. I remember a friend of mine telling me
that once in Italy, when he declined to hire a carriage from a peasant
at a perfectly exorbitant price, and said he preferred walking, the
fellow called after him, saying, "We all know you English are mad enough
for anything!"

I don't know whether the Hungarian Count drew the same conclusion in my
case, but I could see he was very much amused; I don't think any other
people understand the Englishman's love of adventure.

CHAPTER XXII.

The baths of Tusnad--The state of affairs before 1848--Inequality
of taxation--Reform--The existing land laws--Communal
property--Complete registration of titles to estates--Question of
entail.

I mixed exclusively in Hungarian society during my stay at the baths of
Tusnad. With Baron ---- and Herr von ---- I talked politics by the hour.
The Hungarians have the natural gift of eloquence. They pour forth their
words like the waters of a mill-race, no matter in what language. My
principal companion at Tusnad spoke French. The true Magyar will always
employ that language in preference to German when speaking with a
foreigner; but as often as not the Hungarians of good society speak
English perfectly well. The younger generation, almost without
exception, understand our language, and are extremely well read in
English literature.

I had so recently left Saxonland, where public opinion is opposed to
everything that has the faintest shade of Magyarism, that I felt in the
state of Victor Hugo's hero, of whom he said, "Son orientation etait
changee, ce qui avait ete le couchant etait le levant. Il s'etait
retourne." The transition was certainly curious, but I confess to
getting