Transylvania, to the united areas of New-| can be raised with equal facility in Hungary, York and Pennsylvania.*

does not float. Over the whole surface | tures of western Hungary is the lake known of the morass lies a bed of moss, usually by the name of the Platten See, or Lake about six but sometimes as much as nine Balaton. Its figure is a parallelogram. It or even twelve feet thick. Beneath this extends fifty miles from N. E. to S. W., with lies almost every where a stratum of bog an average breadth of eight or nine miles, earth, resting on a firm bed of clay, cov- and a medium depth of about six fathoms. ered like the bottom of the lake with The shores are nearly straight, with one stones and gravel. In the spring, when notable exception however on the western the whole Hansag (the Hungarian name) is shore, where a considerable peninsula runs overflowed, this moss covering, and some- so far into the lake, that between its extimes also the stratum of turf, is loosened, and tremity and the opposite side there remains floats on the surface of the water. If the only a channel of two hundred yards in width. growth of the moss has been more than The color of the water is generally a clear usually vigorous, it will sometimes cling white, but when storms are approaching, even closely to the lower soil, and become over- though no clouds have yet appeared in the flowed. Occasionally it happens that large heavens, it assumes a dark hue, and forms tracts thus submerged are suddenly loosened, thus a convenient weather-gauge. so that what the day before was a sheet of water, becomes apparently transformed into dry land. Much the larger part of the Hansag is still marshy and reedy ground, and only a very small portion is arable. The earth shakes under the tread, and it is impossible, in the middle portions of it, to obtain firm footing any where. Kohl, the German traveller, describes it as "stretched out before the eye, a boundless desert of reeds interspersed with marshy meadows, and skirted on the distant horizon by the alder forest which was just visible."

"The whole country between Oedenburg and Raab (the former situated near the S. W. extremity of the Neusiedler and the latter fifty miles to the east, at the junction of the river Raab with the Danube) is as flat as though it had been adjusted by line and level. With the exception of the Hansag, the whole of the little Hungarian plain, containing about four thousand square miles, is exceedingly fertile. This fertility reaches its highest point in the island of Schütt-distinguished for its impregnable fortress of Komorn-which was formerly known by the name of the Golden Gardens."

The Hansag itself, however, is by no means useless, as it affords pasturage to many herds of cattle, reeds which are woven by the shepherds into mats, and large quantities of soda, which in hot summer weather issues from the ground on the eastern margin of the lake, and from the dried-up beds of the little pools that sprinkle over the marsh. In favorable seasons and situations this salt will cover the surface for miles, giving the appearance of snow.

One of the most remarkable natural fea

The following extract from Kohl, from whose book most of the above is taken, will not be uninteresting:

been properly examined, and therefore I believe that the few facts related to me on the spot may offer something of novelty. The evening I speak of, when I looked upon its waters, waves were constantly beating against the shore, although the morning I went down to the ferry at the extremity atmosphere was perfectly still. The following of the peninsula. This ferry unites the comitat of Salader, at the north of the lake, to that of Schomoty, at the south. A road leads through the peninsula, over which the people who wish to go Schomoty side there is a Hungarian, on the Tihany, in's Schomoty,' pass as over a bridge. On the a German ferryman. The walk from the convent to the ferryman's cottage is nearly a mile. His name is Dicker, and he has held the ferry over this lake for nearly eighteen years. He assured me that the water was never still, not even when there had been a calm for fourteen days. He also confirmed what had been told me respecting the changes in the weather to be foretold by the appearance of said he, the lake has got it in its stomach, and the water. 'Even when the storm is in Germany,' foams and grumbles beforehand.' In the little strait at the extremity of the peninsula, where the lake is only two hundred fathoms wide, the motion is the strongest, and in addition to the agitation of strongest in the middle of the strait, where the the waves on the surface, there is a strong current, water is not more than seven fathoms deep at the utmost. The current flows sometimes from west to east, and sometimes in a contrary direction; the people could not say whether there was a double current as in other straits. The monks thought this current was caused by the superfluous waters of either part of the lake, and that if the wind blew long from the east the water was driven into the western part, and vice versa; but the boatman when there had long been no wind to impel the was of opinion that the stream was continual, even waters to one part or the other. After a long continuance of wind the water became troubled, but in

"The whole nature of the Platten See has never

general, even among the reeds, it was as clear asing often quite borne down with it. aqua fortis.'

"The people employ a curious terminology for the different winds. The north wind, which blows from the Bacony forest, is the upper wind; the south, from the Schomotyer plains, the under wind; the west wind is the Saler, because it blows from the Salader comitat; and the east wind the Calvin wind, probably because it comes over the Hungarian steppes, where there are more Calvinists than in any other part of Hungary. The 'Saler wind' from the Alps, sweeping along the whole length of the lake, is the most violent; it raises the waves mountain high, and brings with it the greatest number of storms. As to the story of the rise and fall of the waters with the moon's changes, no one knew any thing about it.

"The foaming of the water may arise from the quantity of carbonic acid gas carried into it by the springs. The Platten See is so strongly impregnated with this gas, that Professor Schuster thinks the whole lake may be looked upon as one great receptacle of a much diluted acid. Yellow paper becomes pretty quickly of a brown red tint in its waters, and red is changed to blue. The taste is strongly astringent, and the skin, after washing in it, becomes rough and breaks. The eyes, after bathing in the lake, become sensible of great irritation, which sometimes even amounts to inflam

mation. Horses driven to swim in the lake would

lose their hoofs if fat were not rubbed into them. The water may be preserved for a long time without becoming putrid, and it will even preserve meat and other substances completely fresh for several days. The fish found in this lake are said to differ greatly from those of the same species in other waters. The flesh is finer, firmer, and better flavored." (Kohl's Travels, pp. 369, 370.)

The Platten See, like the lakes Constance and Geneva, has one high mountainous, and one level shore. Its mountain side, like that of the Neusiedler Lake, boasts an admirable vine culture; while the low and swampy coasts are brought under the plough, and are used for pasturing cattle.

Behind the town of Tapolza the Bacony forest begins, a thick wood covering a hilly tract of country, and extending nearly from the Danube to Croatia. This forest, from the most ancient times, has been a resort for robbers. Within a few years indeed one Sobri has gained himself a reputation which rivals that of Robin Hood. Finer wood scenery than is here presented to the eye of the traveller is probably not to be found in Europe. In many parts

of the forest the axe seems never to have
been used; and even close by the road-side
thousands of fine trees are decaying from
age.
They are mostly oaks, mixed with a
few birches. The mistletoe grows in wonder-
ful luxuriance, the dying tops of the oaks seem-

Where

the surface is clear of trees for a few yards, a fine turf springs up naturally; though the swine, with which this forest is filled in the winter for the sake of the acorns, root it up most unsparingly. The swine-herds of the Bacony forest have never had a reputation for any extraordinary honesty, and to the present day are esteemed a lawless class. Many legends have gathered around this wild Wood, and its name remains, as of old, a name of romance and mystery.

The "great Hungarian plain," lying to the south-east of the Bacony forest and its mountain range, and embracing the whole valley of the Theiss, constitutes the largest and most characteristic portion of the kingdom. It covers an area of nearly or quite 28,000 square miles, stretching from the mountains of Tokay on the north to the Danube, and from the lake Balaton on the west to the borders of Transylvania.

The traveller approaching Tokay along the "Hegyalla" mountain district, which skirts the river Boorog, that at this town pours its waters into the Theiss, journeys by a pleasant route among smiling valleys and by lovely brooks, refreshed by the shade of magnificent woods, and cheered by the prospect of cloud-capped mountains. But the Theiss once crossed, a scene so different lieve himself in the same hemisphere. The opens upon him, that he can scarcely bevast plain of Hungary stretches before him interminable. He launches forth into its wonderful solitudes. Around on every hand, unto the remote horizon, stretches this immense level, sublime as the ocean itself. There is no hill, nor even a considerable undulation, to break the monotony of the view. Scarcely a solitary tree is visible. The only inanimate objects that relieve the oppressive uniformity, are an occasional shepherd's hut, the tall beam of a well, or a small tumulus erected in ages past, for some now-forgotten use. The Puszta, however, is neither without inhabitants nor without cultivation. It has cities, towns, and villages; few and far between it is true, but generally large and populous where they do occur. On the great road, or rather track, between Tokay and Debretzin, a village occurs almost every three or four hours; but in some parts,

*

* i. e. Desert, void; equivalent to steppe, etc.

for a whole day no such welcome sight gladdens the eye of the weary traveller. The scene however presents so much that is new and wonderful, that he never for a moment experiences the weariness of monotony. The constant hum of insects, the screams of birds of prey, and the lowing of cattle, remind him through the whole day that the Puszta is no desert. Flocks of sheep may often be seen standing beneath the hot sun at noon-day, shielding their heads from his burning heat in the shade of each other's bodies; and again, vast herds of cattle, looking in the distance like so many regiments of soldiers; for, whether by accident or design it is impossible to say, they commonly feed in a long loose line of three or four deep. Falcons are wheeling and screaming in the air, sometimes a dozen of them in sight at once. Here and there a solitary heron may be detected wading about in the salt marshes, with which the region abounds, and occasionally a flock of noisy plovers flies up before your path; but of game and of small birds of any kind there are very few. In sandy districts the earless marmot, a pretty little animal about the size and color of a squirrel, is a constant source of amusement, always running at the slightest alarm to the mouth of his hole, and then, at the least movement on the part of the intruder, dropping down and remaining hid till his enemy has gone away.

on the Puszta of Hungary. The close of day found us far from any human habitation, alone in this desert of luxuriance, without a mark that man had established his dominion there, save the wheel tracks which had guided us on our way, and the shepherds' wells which are sparingly scattered over the whole plain. I have seen the sun set behind the mountains of the Rhine, as I lay on the tributary Neckar's banks, and the dark bold towers of Heidelberg stood gloriously out against the deep red sky; as the ripple of the lagoons kissed the prow of the light gondola, I have seen his last rays throw their golden tints over the magnificence of fallen Venice; I have watched the god of day as he sank to rest behind the gorgeous splendors of St. Peter's; yet never with so strong a feeling of his majesty and power as when alone on the Puszta of Hungary."

Occasionally the traveller on these vast plains, when he opens his eyes in the morning upon the landscape which had faded from them with the declining sun on the evening before, finds himself in a wholly different scene. A few miles from him lies, it may be, an extensive lake enveloped in a gray mist. At one end, perhaps, there is a village, and beautiful woods and park-like meadows are spread all around. As he approaches this delightful region, however, new points of view gradually come out, while the objects first observed have vanished away. By-andby the mist rises from the earth, leaving the view clear along the burning plain, while trees and water are still discernible in the air. It is the mirage.

"The feeling of solitude," says the English traveller from whom most of the above has been taken," which a vast plain impresses on the imagination, is to me more solemn than that produced by the boundless ocean, or the trackless forest; nor is this sentiment ever so strongly felt as during the short moments of twilight which follow the setting of the sun. It is just as the bright orb has disappeared below the level of the horizon, while yet some red tints like glowworm traces mark the pathway he has followed; just when the busy hum of insects is hushed as by a charm, and stillness fills the air; when the cold chills of night creep over the earth; when comparative darkness has suddenly followed the bright glare of day; it is then that the stranger feels how alone he is, and how awful such loneliness is, where the eye sees no boundary, and the ear de-court-yard are often formed of the same material. tects no sign of living thing.

"I would not for the world have destroyed the illusion of the first sunset I witnessed

"Such are some of the most striking pictures presented by the plains; but there are others of a more cheerful and social character. I have already said the Puszta villages are large; they sometimes contain several thousand inhabitants. Nothing can be more simple or uniform than the plan on which they are built. One long, straight, and most preposterously wide street generally forms the whole village; or it may be that this street is traversed at right angles by another equally long, straight, and wide. Smaller streets are rare; but, when they do occur, it is pretty certain they are all parallel or at right angles with each other. All the with two small windows, shaded by acacias or cottages are built on the same plan: a gable-end walnuts, faces the street. The houses are beautifully thatched with reeds, and the fences of the

The long one-storied house, roofed with wooden tiles, the best in the village,-unless the Seigneur's chateau happens to be there,-and behind which towers the odd half-eastern steeple, is the dwell

ing of the priest; and, should the traveller find himself benighted in the neighborhood, its rich and hospitable occupant would welcome the chance which bestowed on him a guest. A little further, perhaps, stands another house, whose pretensions, if below the priest's, are above those of its neighbors. On the shutters is pasted up some official notice, and before the door stands the stocks. It is the dwelling of the Biro or judge of the village. The Hejség ház, (town house,) the modest schoolroom,and the little inn, are the only other exceptions to the peasants' cottages. Besides the avenue of trees on each side, and, in wet weather, sundry pools of water, or rather small lakes, the street is often interrupted by the tall pole of a well, or the shed of a horse-mill. These horse-mills are clumsy contrivances: first, a shed is built to cover the heavy horizontal wheel in which the horse works; and then beside it is a small house containing the mill-works. Why they do not use wind-mills instead, it is difficult to say; except that the others are better understood, and require less care. Running water is so scarce on the Puszta, that water-mills are out of the question.

"In the neighborhood of the villages a certain portion of the land is cultivated, perhaps one tenth of the whole; and produces rich crops of Kukurutz, or Indian corn, wheat, hemp, flax, tobacco, and wine. The gathering in of these products occupies the scanty population without intermission from the beginning of summer to the end of autumn. Our route did not lead us through the richest part of the plains; but I do not remember ever to have seen the kukurutz looking better than here. It was just the middle of September, and every hand was occupied in the harvest. Wagonloads of the bright yellow cones, drawn by the large white oxen, were passed at every step. And what a trial of patience it was to pass those wagons! There the peasant sits quite composedly in front of his load, probably fast asleep, and often half drunk: until you are close to him, he will not hear you, shout as you may; and when at last he does condescend to be aware of your presence, and commences vociferating to his four oxen, and plying his whip at the same time to induce them to cede the only part of the road on

which your carriage can pass, the time taken by the beasts to comprehend the full force of their master's argument, and the sort of consultation they seem to hold as to whether they shall obey itor not, is sufficient to exhaust the most patient of men.

"The part of the plain left for pasture is occupied during the summer months, as we have seen, by immense herds of cattle and flocks of sheep. In winter these are either brought up into the villages, or stabled in those solitary farms which form another striking peculiarity of the Puszta. Far from any beaten track or village the traveller observes a collection of buildings inclosed by a thick wall of mud or straw, with an arched gateway, and containing a large court, surrounded by stables, barns, sheep-houses, and a shepherd's cottage or two. Here the sheep and cattle are wintered, for the sake of saving the draught of fodder; and here their guardians often remain a whole winter without exchanging a word with any

other human beings than those composing their own little domestic community, for the trackless snow renders communication extremely difficult. In summer the shepherd's life is even more monotonous. He often remains out for months together, till winter comes on, and obliges him to seek shelter." (Paget's Travels in Hungary and Transylvania, pp. 289-291.)

The soil of this great central plain, formed from the debris of several different kinds of rock, presents a very considerable diversity. A large portion of it is a deep sand, easily worked, and in wet seasons yielding fair crops; a second, found principally in the neighborhood of the rivers, is boggy and much deteriorated in value from the frequent inundations to which it is subject, but capable of the greatest improvement at little cost; and a third is a rich black loam, the fertility of which is almost incredible.

The traveller who sails down the Danube from Pesth finds the river frequently divided by low islands, and the shores on either hand likewise low and flat; that on the left being in great part marshy, and that on the right somewhat higher, and often stretching off in barren patches of sand. In crossing the country from Pesth to Szegedin, a similar contrast is observed, the whole northern and middle portions of the parallelogram between the Danube and Theiss being made up of desert plains and fertile marshes. Near its southern extremity, however, it rises into a low and sterile plateau. Between this and the Danube, still further south, lies a small alluvial plain, watered by This small rivers, and extremely fruitful. is the celebrated Batshka, in the times of the Romans colonized and cultivated with

the greatest care, and now, beneath the diligent and skilful hands of German colonists, taught to bloom and bear fruit once more.

The country between the Danube and Lake Balaton is the same, in its general fea tures, with that between the Danube and the Theiss. Both are capable of becoming vastly more productive than they now are, and would certainly do so under a wise and patriotic government.

It only remains now that we take a bird'seye view of the Banat, and the reader will have obtained, probably, a clear idea of the natural capabilities of what is embraced within the kingdom of Hungary proper.

Between the Maros, the Theiss, the Danube, and the Transylvanian mountains, there