re may henceforth assume, it is undoubtedly true that much
that has issued within the last few years from the Hungarian press is
worth translating; and I believe that the present volume, presented in
a faithful and easy translation, and likely to be soon followed by
several others of a similar class, will be found to introduce the
English reader to scenes hitherto undescribed, and to characters as
interesting as unusual.

EMERIC SZABAD.

HUNGARIAN SKETCHES.

DEAR RELATIONS.

One evening, towards the end of summer, my uncle, Lorincz Kassay, the
sub-sheriff of the county, was seated on a bench before his
_porte-cochere_, which stood wide open, without bar or gate, as
beseemed the entrance to the house of an hospitable Hungarian
gentleman.

True, half a dozen dogs, nearly as large as bears, were lying lazily
about the court, and might have rendered the entrance embarrassing to
persons of hostile intention; but as for strangers in general, these
honest guards were too well accustomed to see them treated as the
angels were by Abraham, to take any further notice than by a friendly
bark, and a slow shake of the tail.

Uncle Lorincz Kassay sat enjoying his pipe, and calling across the
road to his assistant, who was likewise seated at the door of his
house, enveloped in the same comfortable fumes. The conversation might
have been carried on with more facility had one of these worthy
gentlemen crossed to the other side--the road being wide, and a
stentorian voice necessary to make one's-self understood--but the mud
lay so deep between the two houses, that it was severe work for carts
and carriages to get through; and when it was absolutely necessary to
cross the road, the passenger was obliged to make a considerable
circuit, by the garden and meadow, holding on by the rail, besides
returning the same way: consequently Uncle Lorincz and his ally found
it less troublesome, and more convenient on the whole, to exert their
lungs in the manner above mentioned.

Meanwhile my readers may be curious to learn how I am related to this
worthy gentleman; but this indeed I cannot tell. I only know that he
is called by all who know him Lorincz Kassay, bacsi;[1] and I would
advise my friends likewise to adopt him as such, for he is a
thoroughly honest and honourable country gentleman, and will never
give them cause to blush at his name. Let us keep up the good old
Magyar custom of calling our elders by the familiar title