“This whip has a stout handle from one and a half to two feet long, and a cord which measures not less than from eighteen to twenty-four feet in length.  The cord is attached to a short iron chain, fixed to the top of the handle by an iron ring.  A large leaden button is fastened to the end of the cord, and similar smaller buttons are distributed along it at distances, according to certain rules derived from experience, of which we are ignorant.  Armed with this weapon, which the Csikos carries in his belt, together with a short grappling-iron or hook, he sets out on his horse-chase.  Thus mounted and equipped without saddle or stirrup, he flies like the storm-wind over the heath, with such velocity that the grass scarcely bends under the horse’s hoof; the step of his horse is not heard, and the whirling cloud of dust above his head alone marks his approach and disappearance.  Although familiar with the use of a bridle, he despises such a troublesome article of luxury, and guides his horse with his voice, hands, and feet—­nay, it almost seems as if he directed it by the mere exercise of the will, as we move our feet to the right or left, backward or forward, without its ever coming into our head to regulate our movements by a leather strap.

“In this manner for hours he chases the flying herd, until at length he succeeds in approaching the animal which he is bent on catching.  He then swings his whip round in immense circles, and throws the cord with such dexterity and precision that it twines around the neck of his victim.  The leaden button at the end, and the knots along the cord, form a noose, which draws closer and tighter the faster the horse hastens on.

“See how he flies along with outstretched legs, his mane whistling in the wind, his eye darting fire, his mouth covered with foam, and the dust whirling aloft on all sides!  But the noble animal breathes shorter, his eye grows wild and staring, his nostrils are reddened with blood, the veins of his neck are distended like cords, his legs refuse longer service—­he sinks exhausted and powerless, a picture of death.  But at the same instant the pursuing steed likewise stands still and fixed as if turned to stone.  An instant, and the Csikos has flung himself off his horse upon the ground, and inclining his body backward, to keep the noose tight, he seizes the cord alternately with the right and left hand, shorter and shorter, drawing himself by it nearer and nearer to the panting and prostrate animal, till at last coming up to it he flings his legs across its back.  He now begins to slacken the noose gently, allowing the creature to recover breath:  but hardly does the horse feel this relief, before he leaps up, and darts off again in a wild course, as if still able to escape from his enemy.  But the man is already bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh; he sits fixed upon his neck as if grown to it, and makes the horse feel his power at will, by tightening or slackening the cord.  A second time the hunted animal sinks upon the ground; again he rises, and again breaks down, until at length, overpowered with exhaustion, he can no longer stir a limb....