d is the main world,
and that the rest of Europe is an unnecessary and troublesome fringe
around the edges of it. There is a story of a gentleman in Pesth who
went to a dealer in maps and inquired for a _globus_ of Hungary,
showing that he imagined it to be the whole round earth.

[Illustration: THE DANUBE AT TRAJAN'S BRIDGE.]

So fair were the land and the stream after the storm that I lingered
until sunset gazing out over river and on Servian hills, and did not
accept Josef's invitation to visit the chapel of the Hungarian crown
that evening. But next morning, before the sun was high, I wandered
alone in the direction of the Roumanian frontier, and by accident came
upon the chapel. It is a modest structure in a nook surrounded by tall
poplars, and within is a simple chapel with Latin inscriptions. Here
the historic crown reposes, now that there is no longer any use for it
at Presburg, the ancient capital. Here it was brought by pious hands
after the troubles between Austria and Hungary were settled. During
the revolution the sacred bauble was hidden by the command of noblemen
to whom it had been confided, and the servitors who concealed it at
the behest of their masters were slain, lest in an indiscreet moment
they might betray the secret. For thousands of enthusiasts this tiny
chapel is the holiest of shrines, and should trouble come anew upon
Hungary in the present perturbed times, the crown would perhaps
journey once more.

It seems pitiful that the railway should ever invade this
out-of-the-way corner of Europe. But it is already crawling through
the mountains: hundreds of Italian laborers are putting down the
shining rails in woods and glens where no sounds save the song of
birds or the carol of the infrequent passer-by have heretofore been
heard. For the present, however, the old-fashioned, comfortless
diligence keeps the roads: the beribboned postilion winds his merry
horn, and as the afternoon sun is getting low the dusty, antique
vehicle rattles up to the court of the inn, the guard gets down, dusts
the leather casing of the gun which now-a-days he is never compelled
to use: then he touches his square hat, ornamented with a feather, to
the maids and men of the hostelry. When the mails are claimed, the
horses refreshed and the stage is covered with its leathern hood,
postilion and guard sit down together in a cool corner under the
gallery in the courtyard and crack various small flasks of wine. They
smoke