France, Russia, Prussia, and other countries, have introduced the
Hussars into their armies; but these soldiers are merely Russian,
French, and Prussian cavalry, dressed in the Hungarian laced jacket:
they want the spirit, the horse, and--the 'Magyar Isten.' For this
reason, the Hungarian Hussar will not acknowledge them as brethren;
and whenever he comes in contact with foreign Hussars, he lets them
feel in battle the full force of his contempt. A story is told, that
during a campaign against the French in the war with Napoleon, the
bivouacs of the Prussian and Hungarian Hussars were near to one
another. A Prussian came over to his neighbors in a familiar way with
a glass of wine, and drank it to the health of his 'brother hussar.'
But the Hungarian gently pushed the glass back, and stroked his beard,
saying, 'What brother?--no brother--I hussar--you jack-pudding.'

This expression is not to be mistaken for a brag. The Hungarian hussar
is no fanfaron like the French chasseur, but he is conscious of his
own powers, like a Grenadier of the Old Imperial Guard. The dolmany,
the csako, and the csizma, have grown to his body; they form his
holyday dress even when off duty--the national costume transferred
into the army; and as he is aware that this is not the case in other
countries, the foreign Hussar's dress is in his eyes a mere servant's
livery; and logically the man is not altogether wrong.

The Hussar, like the Magyars in general, is naturally good-tempered.
The finest man in the service, he is at the same time the most jovial
companion in the tavern, and will not sit by and empty his glass by
himself when a Bohemian or German comrade at his side has spent all
his money. There is only one biped under the sun who is in his eyes
more contemptible and hateful than any animal of marsh or forest. This