of sport and adventure." The Hungarians have all the Anglo-American love
of sport and adventure.* A glass combination of tube and flask, holding
about three pints, with an orifice at each end and the bulb or flask
near the upper orifice; the wine is sucked up into the flask with the
breath, and when withdrawn from the cask the index finger is held over
the lower orifice, from which the glasses are filled by manipulations
of the finger.

>From Budapest to Paks, about one hundred and twenty kilometres, the roads
are superior to anything I expected to find east of Germany; but the
thermometer clings around the upper regions, and everything is covered
with dust. Our route leads down the Danube in an almost directly southern
course.

Instead of the poplars of France, and the apples and pears of Germany,
the roads are now fringed with mulberry-trees, both raw and manufactured
silk being a product of this part of Hungary. My companion is what in
England or America would be considered a "character;" he dresses in the
thinnest of racing costumes, through which the broiling sun readily
penetrates, wears racing-shoes, and a small jockey-cap with an enormous
poke, beneath which glints a pair of "specs;" he has rat-trap pedals to
his wheel, and winds a long blue girdle several times around his waist,
consumes raw eggs, wine, milk, a certain Hungarian mineral water, and
otherwise excites the awe and admiration of his sport-admiring countrymen.
Igali's only fault as a road companion is his utter lack of speed, six
or eight kilometres an hour being his natural pace on average roads,
besides footing it up the gentlest of gradients and over all rough
stretches. Except for this little drawback, he is an excellent man to
take the lead, for he is a genuine Magyar, and orders the peasantry about
with the authoritative manner of one born to rule and tyrannize; sometimes,