From what I heard about politics, or rather about the Parliament, it seems to me that their House of Commons, like our own, suffers from too many talkers.  The Hungarian is at all times a great talker, and when politics open the sluices of his mind, his speech is a perfect avalanche of words.  His conversation is never of that kind that puts you in a state of antagonism, as a North German has so eminently the power of doing; on the contrary, the listener sympathises whether he will or no, but on calmer reflection one’s judgment is apt to veer round again.

The members of the House of Commons number 441, and of these 39 are Croats, who are allowed to use their own language by special privilege.  The members are paid five florins a-day when the House is sitting, and a grant of four hundred florins a-year is made for lodgings.  There is this peculiarity about the Hungarian Parliament:  hereditary members of the Upper House can if they choose offer themselves for election in the Lower House.  Many of the hereditary peers do so, meanwhile resigning as a matter of course their seat in the Upper Chamber.

The reform of 1848 extended the franchise so far that in point of fact it only stops short of manhood suffrage.  The property qualification of a voter is in some cases as low as a hundred florins yearly income.  Religious and political liberty was granted to all denominations.  The disabilities of the Jews were suffered to remain a few years later; but in 1867 they were entirely removed, and at the present moment several of the most active members of Parliament are of the Jewish persuasion.  Elections are triennial, an arrangement not approved by many true patriots, who complain that members think more of what will be popular with the constituents, whom they must so soon meet again, than of the effect of their votes on measures that concern the larger interests of the State.

Oravicza was so seductive—­with its pleasant society; its “land parties,” as they call picnics; its evening dances, enlivened by gipsy music—­that I remained on and on from want of moral courage to tear myself away.  I had thoughts of changing my plans altogether, and of devoting myself to a serious study of the minerals of the Banat, making gay little Oravicza my head-centre.  Looking back after the lapse of sober time, I doubt if science would have gained much.  Well, well, I made up my mind to go.  “The world was all before me,” but I—­left my paradise alone.  I had no fair Eve “hand in hand” to help my wandering steps.

I do think that packing one’s portmanteau is the most prosaic thing in life.  Shirts and coats must be folded, and one’s possessions have a way of increasing which makes packing a progressive difficulty.  However, at last I did persuade my portmanteau to shut, and forthwith despatched it, with some other heavy things, to Hatszeg, a small town in Transylvania, where I intended to be in the course of ten days.