at he i

treet runs inland at right angles from the road; you will then have on your right two or three bits of meadowland overshadowed by willow trees, which slope

rded acacias are planted near the door of the inn, above the lintel of which a painted board scribbled over with irregular lettering invites the traveller to enter. A wooden verandah

and river of mud, and in the winter the snow hides the deep, frozen crevasses; but place and street are as God made them, and it is not man's place to interfere. To begin

be looking at it over their shoulders, the front of one house facing the back of its neighbo

elters them from snow and rain in winter. These wooden verandahs are in a greater or lesser state of repair and smart

and the roofs, thatched with maize-stalks, are ornamented along the top with wood

the church. It stands well there, doesn't it?-at one end of this open place, with its flat, whitewashed fa?ade and tower-red-roofed and crowned with a metal c

huttered windows along the front and at the side a low gate which leads to a small garden at th

mmer is made very gay in front with vividly coloured dahl

f the Commune of Marosfalva-a personage of vast consideration in the village-a consideration which he shares wit

r saved a fillér and until lately, when he was stricken down with illness, had to work as a day labourer for wage, instead of owning a bit of land of his own and planting it up for his own enjoyment. Here the houses are much smaller and squalid-looking: they have no verandahs-only a narrow door and tiny, diminutive windows which are not made to open and shut. The

is buried in snow. But in the late summer it is at its best, one or two heavy showers of rain have laid the dust, and the sunflowers and dahlias r

gossip with a neighbour. The brown-legged, black-eyed children, coolly clad in loose white shifts, bare-footed and bare-headed, can play outside now;

ve gone with it: except for the weeping mothers and sweethearts the ordinary village life has resumed its peaceful course. But then, there are every year a few weeping

their three years, and they must be made welcome with dancing and mu

ethearts waiting for them-but only one or two. Three years is a long, long time! Girls cannot afford to wait for husbands while their youth and good looks fly away so quickly. And the lads, too, are fickle; some of them have apparently forgotten amongst th

lace called Bosnia has swallowed them up. There was fighting, it seems, in Bosnia,

ians say so, anyhow, and in order that the Crown of Hungary should have what

ask you?" so th

ty or maimed and crippled. In either case they are welcome. But at times the mistake is the other way: no black report has come; the mothers, the fathers, the sweethearts, expect the young soldier home-he does not come. The

ities at Budapest. In the course of time-not very promptly-the reply comes. A letter of condolence, curtly worded: the name of

pigs and geese, for digging and sowing; he has had a glimpse of life and wants to see some more; the emigration agents at Budapest are

eter him from his purpose: he follows the advice of the emigration agent, expends his last fillér, se

mesickness," they drift back after a few years to their villages, having amassed a little money perhaps, but having lost that vitality, that love of

s Elsa on that warm Sunday afternoon, had t

after Benediction, they had strolled down as f

ot that hung under the verandahs gleam with many-hued and dazzling reflections. It touched the red roof of the little church

ir finery with cotton petticoats swinging out, and high-heeled boots clinking as they walked, the men with round felt ha

ard the stream, shaking their grey and white feathers under the hot kiss of the sun, and behind them, in slow ma

óhér Aladár-who was the village justice of the

the most thrifty housewife in a country where most housewives are th

hutters painted a vivid green, it literally shone with dazzling brightness on these hot summer afternoons. The w

in his only sister, and that he loved to make a display of them

hrough the two small windows, built one on each side of the front door, but even in the dim light the furniture shone with polish, and the wooden floor bore every sign of persistent and vigorous scrubbing. There was a cloth of coloured linen upon the centre table, beautifully woven in a chess-board pattern of red and blue by Ilona's deft

a, then mayhap her own marriage with Er?s Béla need never have come about. She could have mourned for Andor quietly by

she, too, would make her new home orderly and sweet-scented, with beautifully-polished furniture and floors radiant with cleanliness. The thought of what her own best bedroom would be like delighted her fancy. It was a lovely room, for Béla's house was larger by far than his sister's, the rooms were wider and more lofty, and the windows had large, clear pa

r all be quite so black as she sometimes feared, and surely the good God would be kind to her in her mar

of Béla's choice of a wife, and her greetings of Elsa were always of a luke-warm character, and we

ekness; but in her own heart she was thankful that her future home would lie some distance out

from Ilona first, then from Aladár-who was self-important and dictatorial, and finally from Béla,

d said that she need not st

Aladár," he had said pompously, "and tak

eeks, and one on Aladár's bristly face, then the inevitable homily; and as soon as Ilona paused in the latter, in order to draw breath, Elsa gave her ano

n persuading him to have that nice walk with her before the sun went down. But now they were out again

me. You can't do better than model yourself on her. She is a pattern wife and makes Aladár perfectly happy. I wonder," he rei

s she chose to remain silent, rather t

and comfortable you will follo

best, Béla," s

himself could not perhaps have explained

rug of his wide shoulders, "to die just when

k of his being still alive is sheer nonsense. I have done everything that lay in my power to find out if there was

be a bride within the week: she walked with head bent, her eyes fixed upon the ground. She made no immediate reply t

hear what I did o

ly, "it was good of you to worry a

struck with the idea that he really had no one to leave his hoardings to. He was always a fool and a lout. If Andor had lived it would have been all right. I think Pali bácsi was quite ready to do something really handsome f

footnote

would have spent it freely and done good wi

ryly, "but whether he would have done good to everyone aroun

she broke in firmly; "you know

face had become a shade paler than before, "so there is no reason f

spoke th

e disparagingly than I ever do of Andor would yo

" she rejoined gently, "it does no