Identifier: hungary00stok (find matches)
Title: Hungary
Year: 1909 (1900s)
Authors: Stokes, Adrian, 1854-1935 Stokes, Marianne
Subjects:
Publisher: London : A. and C. Black
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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efuse they had to dispose of. When his little barefeet touched the water, an expression of joy spreadover his face, and then he suddenly sat down in it.How enchanting were his next discoveries ! Herecame a cork bobbing up and down in the ripples;there gleamed a bit of tin through the semi-opaquewater. Next he found half a broken bottle, and,clutching it with his tender fingers, played longwith the dangerous toy, without cutting himself.Then, losing interest in it, he dropped it, struggledout of the water, and made for home as best hecould. Was it a feeling of relief on passing safelythrough so many strange adventures that made himcry, or was it the cold discomfort of his wet shirt ?On meeting his mother, he flung his arms roundher knees and sobbed aloud, as though a prodigalhad returned. Sometimes we saw babies playing in the dust,quite naked save for gorgeous caps, which glitteredwith silver and gold and ribbons of many colours. Before leaving Vazsecz, I will add that no MENGUSZFALVA
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VAZSECZ AND LUCSIVNA-FURDO 85 Magyars lived there, except the Notary, his familyand his clerk, and perhaps the three ladies to whomwe went on the first day; but they lived in suchcomplete retirement that we saw no more of them.The Slovaks appeared to us to be finely grown andnaturally intelligent people, sadly damaged in someinstances by the execrable spirits they bought fromthe Jews. The costume they all wore was peculiarto their village, and one of the most remarkable,and at the same time becoming, that we have everseen. The remaining inhabitants were a few untidyJews, entirely devoted to money-making, and a fewGipsies, who also did little honest work, but lived inpoverty and squalor. These last w^ould disappointanyone inclined to associate romance with theirrace. From Vazsecz—or Vagfalva, as the station iscalled in Hungarian—to Lucsivna-fiirdo is but ashort journey by rail, but how different were thetwo places ! The one, a dusty village, lying bare tothe sun, with hardly a tree

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