each other by deep ravines which it is necessary to cross. Enormous masses of petrefactions in the form of columns seem to support the roof of the main grotto. In places the stalactites assume the shape of men and of animals. Now a crouching lion is about to leap upon you; here a scaly crocodile is creeping from the Stygian stream; there frowns a huge giant; and further on you seem to behold winged monsters in hideous, menacing attitudes. Suddenly in one of the dark halls of the grotto you observe the most brilliant reflections of light. The colors of the rainbow are confusedly painted on the dark walls and roof of the cavern: the gleam of the torches is refracted and broken into myriad spangles of light. The phenomenon is caused by a large amount of icea perpetual glacier down in the gloomy depths of the mountain, from which the inhabitants in the vicinity liberally supply themselves in the warm season. It has been observed that there is more ice in the cavern in summer than in winter, a circumstance which has led visitors to suppose that the temperature is then lower than in the cold season of the year. At no time, however, does it vary much from the freezing point. The formation of ice takes place in the latter part of the winter and even advances far into the summer, a | long time being required to bring the atmosphere of the grotto and that without in a state of partial equilibrium. By contrast the former seems colder in summer and warmer in winter. Further down the Waag is Isolna, celebrated for having been the rendezvous of the Protestant Hungarians in the seventeenth century. There, in 1610, George Thurzó, palatine of the kingdom and a zealous advocate of the Reformation, convoked a synod at which were present a great number of the national clergy and strangers. The picturesque walls crowning the summit of a high mountain at the west are the remains of the castle of Lictara, the cradle and residence of the Thurzó family. It was erected in the thirteenth century as a refuge from the Tartars. The valley of Szulyò, which opens into that of the Waag, offers a grand and unique spectacle, the semblance of Cyclopean ruins, as if some Babel or antediluvian city had stood there in those far-off misty ages. The illusion is almost perfect. Here are Druidical temples, with rocks for columns; there are palaces whose doors and windows open into the caverns and grottoes of the mountains. Near by are immense rocky obelisks, destined, apparently, to commemorate some great event; at another point are colossi pre senting the hideous images of the kings or heroes of a race of giants; and further on you behold the remains of a vast amphitheater, half buried beneath its own ruins. In one part of it you see bas-reliefs, sculptured in the living rock, representing, it would seem, the combats of lions and elephants, or of armed gladiators. At every point you meet some massive and bizarre figure, or the semblance of some picturesque ruin. Soon after leaving Teplitz the tourist reaches the fortress of Trencsin, an old fortification even more famous that that of Sztrecsen, some distance above. It is situated on a mountain, and the central portion, consisting of a square tower, passes for a Roman structure. The castle incloses a well more than two hundred feet deep, called the Lovers' Well, from the following circumstance: The Count Szapolyai returned from an expedition against the Turks with a rich booty and numerous captives, among whom was the young and beautiful Fatima. Expecting that he would, in turn, be attacked by the Mussulmans, the count made every effort to render the fortress impregnable. The position was strong, but there was no supply of water. While they were searching for a spring the arrival of a caravan was announced, whose chief had come to treat for the ransom of the prisoners. It was the wealthy Omer, who made the most liberal offers for their release. "I will restore them all to you," said Szapolyai, “always excepting the young female attached to the service of the countess." "Her name?" "Fatima." Toil, treasures, vigils, nothing was spared. Three years were passed in laborious excavation, and yet no water. The wealth and the courage of Omer were nearly exhausted. Despair alone seemed his portion, when all at once a little vein of water was discovered at the bottom of the well. The workmen redoubled their efforts, and the fillet of water gradually swelled to a copious fountain. Fatima was restored to Omer, and overjoyed with happiness they returned to their native country. ants. The Château of Czaithe, almost equaling in boldness of position the fortress of Murány, calls to mind the cruelty of feudal times. It belonged to Elizabeth Báthori, a wicked woman whose vices increased with her age. To avenge herself upon time, which furrowed her face with wrinkles, and upon the world which regarded her with indifference, she exhausted the refinements of cruelty upon her servOne day the blood of a victim happened to fall upon Elizabeth's hand. She conceived the strange idea that it rejuvenated the faded skin. From that time she took baths in human blood to restore to her wasted body its former freshness. Aided by two old servants she immolated a great number of victims, as many as three hundred, it is said, for this horrible purpose; when a young man whose affianced had been destroyed, after much effort discovered the cause of the death, and disclosed the circumstances to the palatine, George Thurzo. Elizabeth Báthori was arrested along with her servants. Condemned to imprisonment for life she died in 1614. Her accomplices perished by the hand of the executioner. Only a few years since they showed the subterraneous chambers where these infernal furies were "Fatima," cried Omer; "she is my accustomed to murder young and beautiaffianced!" He offered all his gold, his jewels, all his wealth for the ransom of the beautiful captive. But Szapolyai remained inflexible. Omer threw himself at his feet, besought him, conjured him. "Cause the water to leap from these rocks!" at last exclaimed the count, "and I will restore to you Fatima.” "Thy word of honor ?" "Here is my hand. Heaven is my witness that I have never yet broken a promise." Omer set himself at work with his companions and a large number of laborers. ful women, and the odious basin which received the blood as it flowed from the veins of the victims. A short distance from Trancsin is a rocky peak, seven or eight hundred feet in height, whose summit is crowned with the Château of Beczkó. It owes its erection to an eccentric Polish nobleman named Stibor, who became celebrated in the reign of Sigismond. While on a hunting expedition along the Waag his party partook of their dinner in the shade of this mountain peak. At the end of the repast each one expressed a wish. "I desire," said Stibor, when it came 10 FRANCAIS RAKOCZI. his turn, "that a castle may be built upon | nobleman. voice. vite you all to meet me at my chateau up"One year from this day I inon its summit." Stibor kept his word, and splendid fêtes inaugurated the castle. Temetreny was the seignorial residence of "Nothing is impossible!" continued the the celebrated Count Bercsényi, the gen eral-in-chief of Rákóczi. After the defeat of Romboy, in June 1710, which decided the fate of the Hungarian insurrection, the count returned to his castle, but the imperial troops putting themselves in pursuit, he one day received a note from a friendly hand urging him to betake himself to the mountains without delay as the only means of safety. As Bercsényi could not hasten, on account of a dangerous wound he had received from the Austrians, it was necessary to retard the operations of the enemy before the castle. Orders were given for its defense. It was announced to the few soldiers that their master would yield only at the last extremity. At night the count escaped by a secret path to the mountains. The imperialists presented themselves before the castle, and summoned the little garrison to surrender. The commander, a faithful French servant, speaking in the name of the count, demanded three days for consideration. This condition was accepted. The time expired, the Austrians entered the castle, arrested the Frenchman, whom they mistook for Bercsényi himself, and carried him to Posonia. In the mean time the count, with great effort, had succeeded in reaching the Polish frontier. He had hardly set foot on the friendly soil when a voice from the thick underbrush cried, "Hold! Are you not Count Bercsényi?" He did not attempt to disguise the truth, and supposed himself lost. In a moment he was surrounded by armed men who recognized him. One of them approached respectfully and said: "My general, you have nothing to fear. We are the remnant of your army exercising, since our defeat, the trade of honest brigands. Rest yourself in our asylum, and we will then escort you to a place of safety." The count gladly accepted their offer, spent the night in the mysterious dwelling. of the brigands, and was the next day escorted in the direction of Vaesoria. In connection with the chateau of Count Bercsényi I have alluded to Francis Rákóczi, the author of the Marseillaise of Hungary. He was yet a boy, pursuing his studies under Jesuit teachers, although himself a Protestant, when Kara Mustapha for the last time pitched the green tents of the Moslems before the walls of Vienna; when Eugene of Savoy, the Duke of Lorraine, and Maximilian of Bavaria, by prodigies of valor, expelled the turbaned hordes from the soil of Hungary. The astute policy of the Hapsburgs was then directed to the complete annihilation of the Magyar's liberties and the incorporation of the kingdom into the hereditary states of Austria. "I will make Hungary captive, then poor, then Catholic," was the policy of the king. the brilliant court of Louis XIV. The king himself, as if to make amends for his ingratitude to Hungary, often entertained the chivalric prince at Versailles and Marlay. The great Condé received him graciously at Chantilly. Fashion even Tököli, the father-in-law of Rákóczi, accepted his patronage. There was no had previously raised the standard of re- good society in Paris without Rákóczi. volt, and, with the assistance of the Turks, Saint Simon praises the exile, and he menaced the existence of the Austrian gained the good graces of Madame de Mainempire. But Kara Mustapha and Soly- tenon. After a residence of six years in man Pacha charging upon him their defeat Paris he went to Constantinople, in order in Hungary, caused his arrest, and at this to live as near his native country as postime he was languishing in exile at Nico- sible. There he died in 1735 at the age media, in Asia Minor. When Rákóczi of sixty years. His life and his immortal returned from his foreign travels the Mag-war-song are equally loved by the Magyars. yars again flew to arms. The eminent The villages along the Waag are reachqualities of the son-in-law of Tököli marked ed by post, the river being navigated only him as their leader, and so disinterested by boats of the smallest kind and rafts. By was his zeal that he refused the crown of means of the latter, consisting of ten or Poland offered him by the Czar of Russia. fifteen trunks of trees, the mountaineers Betrayed by Longuerol he fell for a time transport immense quantities of wood and into the hands of the Austrians, but having timber to Comorn and Pesth. Ordinarily escaped in consequence of the heroic de- two or more rafts are united together. A votion of his mother, he took refuge in rude cabin serves for a sleeping-room and Poland, and there prepared the tempest kitchen, and two men are able to guide the which soon threatened to overwhelm the whole by the aid of long oars. As they throne of the Cæsars. As the war march descend through the mountainous region of Rákóczi sounded through his native by moonlight, the voyage is enchanting. land, touching the brave Magyar hearts Toward the Danube, however, into which with its electric fire, peasant and prince the Waag empties near Comorn, are vast ranged themselves under the national flag, swamps where the frogs hold their unininscribed with the words, For God, our terrupted concerts. In no other place Country, and Liberty. Rákóczi bore the would those noisy denizens of the lowstandard of victory to the walls of Vienna. lands have been more likely to suggest But the traditional good fortune of Austria "The Song of the Frogs," by a celebrated saved the empire. Foreign aid was in- Hungarian poet. voked, and some advantages having been gained over the Hungarians by the new emperor, Joseph I., Rákóczi, who was of a conciliatory nature, showed himself disposed to treat with the enemy upon honorable terms. Then the Court of Vienna brought into play its cunning, machiavelian policy. France, the ancient ally of Hungary, would no longer treat with revolutionists. Russia, although friendly to the Hungarian cause, was about to engage in a war with the Turks. Rákóczi foresaw the event. He again refused the crown of Poland, and, having resigned his power, left forever his native country. He could not endure the domination which circumstances rendered inevitable. Austria sought in vain to flatter the illustrious exile. But Rákóczi never failed to express his invincible hatred of the house of Hapsburg. At Paris he became the favorite of In a low, rude wagon, drawn by four small restless horses, we travel like the wind, but never arrive. The soil flies behind us. Hour after hour, like the steed in the ballad, "Tramp, tramp by the mountain's side," we traverse forests, fields, and villages. Before us, at last, are the great plains of Hungary, the chosen land of the Magyars. The air seems freer; our companions, who love not the mountains, catch the inspiration of the scene, so majestic and ocean-like in its solitude, and even our fleet little steeds become more animated as we course over their familiar plains. On all sides of us, as far as vision can reach, extend the pusztas, the name by which the Magyars designate the steppes of Hungary. One would suppose the region uninhabited, did not a cavalier, with |