CHAPTER XXI. A ride through Szeklerland--Warnings about robbers--Buksad--A look at the sulphur deposits on Mount Budos--A lonely lake--An invitation to Tusnad.

Feeling curious not only about the geology of the Szeklerland, but interested also in the inhabitants, I resolved to pursue my journey by going through what is called the Csik. I made all my arrangements to start, but wet weather set in, and I remained against my inclination at Kronstadt, for I was impatient now to be moving onwards.

When I was in Hungary Proper they told me that travelling in Transylvania was very dangerous, and that it was a mad notion to think of going about there alone. Now that I was in Transylvania, I was amused at finding myself most seriously warned against the risk of riding alone through the Szeklerland. Every one told some fresh story of the insecurity of the roads. Curiously enough, foreigners get off better than the natives themselves; people of indifferent honesty have been known to say, "One would not rob a stranger." It happened to me that one day when riding along—in this very Szeklerland of ill-repute—I dropped my Scotch plaid, and did not discover my loss till I arrived at the next village, where I was going to sleep. I was much vexed, not thinking for a moment that I should ever see my useful plaid again. However, before the evening was over, a peasant brought it into the inn, saying he had found it on the road, and it must belong to the Englishman who was travelling about the country. The finder would not accept any reward!

There was a fair in the town the day I left Kronstadt. The field where it is held is right opposite Hotel "No. 1," and the whole place was crowded with country-folks in quaint costumes—spruce, gaily-dressed people mixed up with Wallack cattle-drivers and other picturesque rascals, such as gipsies and Jews, and here and there a Turk, and, more ragged than all, a sprinkling of refugee Bulgarians. Though it was a scene of strange incongruities—a very jumble of races—yet it was by no means a crowd of roughs; on the contrary, the well-dressed, well-to-do element prevailed. The thrifty Saxon was very much there, intent on making a good bargain; the neatly-dressed Szekler walked about holding his head on his shoulders with an air of resolute self-respect—they are unmistakable, are these proud rustics. Many a fair-haired Saxon maiden too tripped along, eyeing askance the peculiar "get-up" of the Englishman as he was about to mount his noble steed and ride forth into the wilds. If I was amused by the crowd, I believe the crowd was greatly amused at my proceedings. Mine own familiar friend, I verily believe, would have passed me by on the other side, I cut so queer a figure. As usual on these occasions, I had sent forward my portmanteau, this time to Maros VÁsÁrhely; but everything else I possessed I carried round about me and my horse somehow, and I am not a man "who wants but little here below."

Besides my toilette de voyage, I had my cooking apparatus, a small jar of Liebig's meat, and some compressed tea, and other little odds and ends of comforts. I had also provided myself with some bacon and slivovitz for barter, a couple of bottles of the spirit being turned into a big flask slung alongside of my lesser flask for wine. Nor was this all, for having duly secured my saddle-bags, I had the plaid and mackintosh rolled up neatly and strapped in front of the saddle; then my gun, field-glass, and roll of three maps were slung across my shoulders. Nota bene my pockets were full to repletion. In my leathern belt was stuck a revolver, handy, and a bowie-knife not far off.

But the portrait of this Englishman as he appeared to the Kronstadt people on that day is not yet complete. His legs were encased in Hessian boots; his shooting-jacket was somewhat the worse for wear; and his hat, which had been eminently respectable at first starting, had acquired a sort of brigandish air; and to add to the drollery of his general appearance, the excellent little Servian horse he rode was not high enough for a man of his inches.

With my weapons of offence and defence I must have appeared a "caution" to robbers, and it seems that the business of the fair was suspended to witness my departure. I was profoundly unconscious at the time of the public interest taken in my humble self, but later I heard a very humorous account of the whole proceeding from some relatives who visited Kronstadt about three weeks afterwards. I believe I am held in remembrance in the town as a typical Englishman!

Well, to take up the thread of my narrative—like Don Quixote, "I travelled all that day." If any reader can remember Gustave DorÉ's illustration of the good knight on that occasion, he will have some idea of how the sky looked on this very ride of mine. As evening approached, the settled grey clouds, which had hung overhead like a pall all the afternoon, were driven about by a rough wind, which went on rising steadily. The grim phantom-haunted clouds came closer and closer round about me as darkness grew apace, and now and then the gust brought with it a vicious "spate" of rain. With no immediate prospect of shelter, my position became less and less lively. I had not bargained for a night on the highroad, or lodgings in a dry ditch or under a tree. Indeed those luxuries were not at hand; for trees there were none bordering the road, or in the open fields which stretched away on either side; and as for a dry ditch, I heard the streams gurgling along the watercourses, which were full to overflowing, as well they might be, seeing that it had rained for three days.

My object was to reach the village of BÜksad, but where was BÜksad now in reference to myself? I had no idea it was such a devil of a way off when I started. I had foolishly omitted to consult the map for myself, and had just relied on what I was told, though I might have remembered how loosely country-people all the world over speak of time and space.

When at length the darkness had become perplexing—entre chien et loup, as the saying is—I met a peasant with a fierce-looking sheep-dog by his side. The brute barked savagely round me as if he meant mischief, and I soon told the peasant if he did not call off his dog directly I would shoot him. He called his dog back, which proved he understood German, so I then asked if I was anywhere near BÜksad. To my dismay he informed me that it was a long way off; how long he would not say, for without further parley he strode on, and he and his dog were soon lost to view in the thick misty darkness.

Not a furlong farther, I came suddenly upon a house by the roadside, and a man coming out of the door with a light at the same moment enabled me to see "VendÉglo" on a small signboard. Good-luck: here, then, was an inn, where at least shelter was possible; and shelter was much to be desired, seeing that the rain was now a steady downpour. On making inquiries, I found that I was already in BÜksad. The peasant had played off a joke at my expense, or perhaps dealt me a Roland for an Oliver, for threatening to shoot his dog. A paprika handl was soon prepared for me. In all parts of the country where travellers are possible, the invariable reply to a demand for something to eat is the query, "Would the gentleman like paprika handl?" and he had better like it, for his chances are small of getting anything else. While I was seeing after my horse, the woman of the inn caught a miserable chicken, which I am sure could have had nothing to regret in this life; and in a marvellously short time the bird was stewed in red pepper, and called paprika handl.

I was aware that Count M—— owned a good deal of property in the neighbourhood of BÜksad, and as I had a letter of introduction to his bailiff, I set off the next morning to find him. My object in coming to this particular part of the country was principally to explore that curious place Mount BÜdos, mentioned by Dr Daubeny and others. I wanted to see for myself what amount of sulphur deposits were really to be found there. Count M——'s bailiff was very ready to be obliging, and he provided me with a guide, and further provided the guide with a horse, so that I had no difficulty in arranging an expedition to the mount of evil smell.

Having arranged the commissariat as usual, I started one fine morning with my guide. We rode for about two hours through a forest of majestic beech-trees, and then came almost suddenly, without any preparation, upon a beautiful mountain lake, called St Anna's Lake. It lies in a hollow; the hills around, forming cup-like sides, are clothed with thick woods down to its very edge. Looking down from above, I saw the green reflection of the foliage penetrating the pellucid water till it met the other heaven reflected below. The effect was very singular, and gave one the idea of a lovely bit of world and sky turned upside down; it produced, moreover, a sort of fascination, as if one must dive down into its luring depths. No human sight or sound disturbed the weird beauty of this lonely spot. I longed at last to break the oppressive silence, and I fired off my revolver. This brought down a perfect volley of echoes, and at the same time, from the highest crags, out flew some half-dozen vultures; they wheeled round for a few moments, then disappeared behind the nearest crest of wood.

My guide soon set about making a fire; and while dinner was being cooked, I bethought me I would have a bath. I took a header from a projecting rock, but I very soon made the best of my way out of the water again. It was icy cold; I hardly ever recollect feeling any water so cold—I suppose because the lake is so much in shadow. After the meal we pushed on to BÜdos, another two hours of riding; this time through a forest so dense that we could scarcely make our way. At last we reached a path, and this brought us before long to a roughly-constructed log-hut. This, I was told, was the "summer hotel." Further on there were a few more log-huts, the "dependence" of the hotel itself. The bathing season was over, so hosts and guests had alike departed. This must be "roughing it" with a vengeance, I should say; but my guide told me that very "high-born" people came here to be cured.

It is a favourite place, too, for some who desire the last cure of all for life's ills; a single breath of the gaseous exhalations is death. One cleft in the hill is called the "Murderer;" so fatal are the fumes that even birds flying over it are often known to drop dead! The elevation of Mount BÜdos is only 3800 feet; there are several caves immediately below the highest point. The principal cave is ten feet high and forty feet long, the interior being lower than the opening. A mixture of gases is exhaled, which, being heavier than the atmosphere, fills it up to the level of the entrance; and when the sun is shining into the cave, one can see the gaseous fumes swaying to and fro, owing to the difference of refraction.

I experienced a sensation which has often been noticed here before. On entering the cave, and standing for some minutes immersed in the gas, but with my head above it, I had the feeling of warmth pervading the lower limbs. I might have believed myself to be in a warm bath up to the chest. This is a delusion, however, for the gaseous exhalation is pronounced by experimenters to be cooler, if anything, than the air; I suppose they mean the air of an ordinary summer day. The walls of the cave arc covered with a deposit of sulphur, and at the extreme end drops of liquid are continually falling. This moisture is esteemed very highly for disease of the eyes; it is collected by the peasants. The gas-baths are resorted to by persons suffering from gout or rheumatism. They are taken in this manner: The patient wears a loose dress over nothing else, and arriving at the mouth of the cave, he must take one long breath. Instantly he runs into the dread cavern, remaining only as long as he can hold his breath; he then rushes back again. One single inhalation, and he would be as dead as a door-nail! How the halt and lame folk manage I don't know, but my guide was eloquent about the wonderful cures that are made here every year.

There are a variety of mineral springs in different parts of the mountain. At the source some have the appearance of boiling, from the quantity of carbonic acid gas given off; but it is only in appearance, for the water is very cold.

The springs which yield iron and carbonic acid are much used for drinking. There are also some primitive arrangements for bathing near by. A square hole is cut in the ground; this is boarded round, and a simple wooden shed, like a gigantic dish-cover, is put over it. Here again my guide said that miraculous cures are wrought annually. It is a wonder that anybody is left with an ache or a pain in a country which has such wonderful waters. I think my guide thought I was a doctor, who was searching for a new health-resort, and he was quite ready to do his share of the puffing.

On Mount BÜdos itself, in other parts than the cave, there occurs a good deal of sulphur; specimens are often found distributed which are very rich indeed. The place certainly deserves a thorough exploration, with a view to utilising the sulphur deposits; but it is so overgrown with vegetation that the search would involve considerable trouble and expense.

There is a fine view from Mount BÜdos towards Moldavia. I was fortunate in having good lights and shades, and therefore enjoyed the prospect most thoroughly. I should like to have remained longer on the summit, but not being prepared for camping out it was not possible; so very reluctantly we set about returning.

My guide led me back to BÜksad by another route, a rough road, with deep ruts and big stones that must make driving in any vehicle, except for the honour and glory of it, a very doubtful blessing. But bad roads never do seem to matter in Hungary. Everybody drives everywhere; they would drive over a glacier if they had one. Occasionally we came upon some charming bits of forest scenery. The trees were grand, especially the beech; they were of greater girth than any I had yet seen in Transylvania. I noticed many mineral springs by the roadside; one could distinguish them by the deposit of oxide of iron on the stones near by.

When I got back to BÜksad, I found the bailiff waiting to tell me that Count M—— and Baron A—— desired their compliments, and would be pleased to see me at Tusnad, if I would go over there. I had no introduction to these noblemen, and mention the invitation as an instance of Hungarian hospitality. They had simply heard that an Englishman was travelling about the country.

I rode over to Tusnad the following day, and found it, as I had been led to expect, a very picturesque little place, a number of Swiss cottages dropped down in the clearing of the forest, with a good "restauration," built by Count M—— himself. When I was there the season was over; but I am told that it is full of fashionables in June and July, and that the waters have an increasing reputation. My attention was drawn to the singular fact of two springs bubbling up within six feet of each other, which are proved by chemical analysis to be distinctly different in composition. I fancy Count M—— was much amused at the fact of an English gentleman travelling about alone on horseback, without any servants or other impedimenta. I remember a friend of mine telling me that once in Italy, when he declined to hire a carriage from a peasant at a perfectly exorbitant price, and said he preferred walking, the fellow called after him, saying, "We all know you English are mad enough for anything!"

I don't know whether the Hungarian Count drew the same conclusion in my case, but I could see he was very much amused; I don't think any other people understand the Englishman's love of adventure.

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