We were in a wretched plight, crowded together in the corner of the ruined hut, and snow as well as “light” came in “through the chinks that time had made.”  Owing to a change in the wind, the smoke of the fire outside drifted in; and there was evidence of a worse drift—­that of the snow, which before nightfall I daresay may have buried the cottage out of sight.

I now gave orders for returning, and just as I stepped out of the hut, or was in the act of leaving, one of the heavy beams from the roof fell upon me; it caught me on the back of my head—­a pretty close shave!  The ride back, with the consciousness of having failed to attain the object I had in view, was depressing.  Nothing could be more unlovely than these once glorious forests.  In parts we had to pass through a mere morass, into which my horse kept sinking.

At last we got back to Toplicza.  The forester and the Wallack thought themselves amply compensated by a few paper florins.  I daresay they kept off the rheumatism by extra potations of slivovitz.  As for myself, having been dipped, yea, having even undergone total immersion in the morass, I felt like those extinct animals who have left their interesting bones nice and dry in the blue lias, but who in daily life must have been “mud all over.”  I presented such a spectacle on my return, that I consider it was an instance of the greatest kindness—­indeed it must have been a severe strain on the hospitality of my friends to give me house-room.

As my garments had not the durability of those of the Israelites in the wilderness, it became a very desirable object to effect a junction with my portmanteau, which was sitting all this time at Maros Vasarhely.  The weather, too, had calmed my ardour for the mountains, and I resolved to strike into the interior of Transylvania, and see something of the towns.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Visits at Transylvanian chateaux—­Society—­Dogs—­Amusements at Klausenburg—­Magyar poets—­Count Istvan Szechenyi—­Baron Eoetvos—­’The Village Notary’—­Hungarian self-criticism—­Literary taste.

I must now drop the itinerary of my journey and speak more in generalities; for after leaving the wilder districts of the Szeklerland, I took the opportunity of presenting some of the letters of introduction that I brought with me from England.

For the succeeding six weeks or more I spent my time most agreeably in the chateaux of some of the well-known Transylvanian nobles.  For the time my wild rovings were over.  The bivouac in the glorious forest and robber-steak cooked by the camp fire—­the pleasures of “roughing it”—­were exchanged for the charms of society.

And society is very charming in Transylvania.  Nearly all the ladies speak English well, and are extremely well read in our literature.  To speak French is a matter of course everywhere; but they infinitely prefer our literature, and speak our language always in preference when they can.