f human nature"
everywhere, especially in Hungary, otherwise they would have a bad time
of it, where the legal expenses of "transfer" are a few florins, whether
it be for an acre of vineyard or for half a _comitat_. I must observe,
however, that in the sale of lands or houses, Government intervenes with
a heavy tax on the transaction.

Leaving my hospitable entertainers at Csik Szent Marton, I went on to
Csik Szereda, where I was kindly taken in by the postmaster. In this
case I was provided with a letter; but a stranger would naturally go to
the postmaster or the clergyman to ask for a night's lodging. At first I
felt diffident on this score; but I soon got over my shyness, for in
Szeklerland they make a stranger so heartily welcome that he ceases to
regard himself as an intruder. In out-of-the-way places one is looked
upon as a sort of heaven-sent "special correspondent." There is a story
told of Baron ----, one of the nearly extinct old-fashioned people, who
regularly, an hour or so before the dinner-hour, rides along the nearest
highroad to try and catch a guest. It has even been whispered that on
one occasion a couple of intelligent-looking travellers, who declined to
be "retained" for dinner, were severely beaten for their recalcitrant
behaviour, by order of the hospitable Baron. The story is well founded,
and I daresay took place before '48, when anything might have happened.

I can bear witness that I have never myself been ill-treated for
declining Hungarian hospitality, but when in Saxonland something very
much the reverse occurred to me. I once entered a village at the end of
a long day's ride, and stopping at the first house, asked for a night's
lodging, whereupon I was told to ask at the next house. They said they
could not take me in, excusing themselves on the score of an important
domestic event being expected. I went on a little farther, though the
"shades of night were falling fast," and repeated my request at the next
house. I give you my word, there were _more_ domestic events--always
the same excuse. I began to calculate that the population must be
rapidly on the increase in that place. It was too much. I entered the
last house of that straggling village with a stern resolve that not even
new-born twins should bar my claim to hospitality!

I found the postmaster at Csik Szereda a very intelligent man, with a
fund of anecdotes and recollections, which generally centred in the
troubles of '48. As I