tional nineteenth and twentieth century point of view in
America and western Europe. But even in those parts of the world we are
accustomed to colour in the uniforms of army and navy, the crimson
"hood" of the university doctor, and red sash of the French Legion of
Honour. We accept colour as a dignified attribute of man's attire in the
cases cited, and we do not forget that our early nineteenth century
American masculine forebears wore bright blue or vivid green coats,
silver and brass buttons and red or yellow waistcoats. The gentleman
sportsman of the early nineteenth century hunted in bright blue tailed
coats with brass buttons, scarlet waistcoat, tight breeches and top
hat! We refer to the same class of man who to-day wears rough, natural
coloured tweeds, leather coat and close cap that his prey may not see
him.

In a sense, colour is a sign of virility when used by man. We have the
North American Indian with his gay feathers, blankets and war paint, and
the European peasant in his gala costume. In many cases colour is as
much his as his woman's. Some years ago, when collecting data concerning
national characteristics as expressed in the art of the Slavs, Magyars
and Czechs, the writer studied these peoples in their native settings.
We went first to Hungary and were disappointed to find Buda Pest far too
cosmopolitan to be of value for the study of national costume, music or
drama. The dominating and most artistic element in Hungary is the
Magyar, and we were there to study him. But even the Gypsies who played
the Magyar music in our hotel orchestra, wore the black evening dress of
western Europe and patent leather shoes, and the music they played was
from the most modern operettas. It was not until a world-famous
Hungarian violinist arrived to give concerts in Buda Pest that the
national spirit of the Gypsies was stirred to play the Magyar airs in
his honour. (Gypsies take on the spirit of any adopted land). We then
realised what they could make of the Recockzy march and other folk
music.

The experience of that evening spurred us to penetrate into southern
Hungary, the heart of Magyar land, armed with letters of introduction,
from one of the ministers of education, to mayors of the peasant
villages.

It was impossible to get on without an interpreter, as usually even the
mayors knew only the Magyar language--not a word of German. That was the
perfect region for getting at Magyar character expressed in the colo