The Argosy — page 289: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

272 Among the Hungarians. Suddenly the horses shied, and half swerved from the road. Looking quickly to the left, we discovered the cause of their alarm in the person of a brown-skinned gipsy boy, tastefully arrayed in a sort of yellow tablecloth of small size and brilliant pattern, which he had tied round his neck, and suffered to hang down his back like the blanket of a red Indian. Other costume he had none, and his brothers and sisters, who followed him through an opening in the hedge, whence their miserable encampment was visible, seemed to consider even this species of garment superfluous. With confused cries and shouts they dashed after the carriages, holding out their bronzed and dirty hands for money, shaking back their tangled black hair, and whining, persuading, entreating and abusing, followed us without the slightest effort for at least a mile, dodging the whips, the wheels, and the horses’ hoofs, and yet crowding round us like a swarm of flies. At last a shower of kreutzers freed us from their importunity. And now we came nearer to our destination. The clouds in the west were growing brighter, and a rosy, golden haze lay over the hills, with deep dark shadows marking here and there the course of a mountain- stream among the rocks. ‘The setting sun was glinting on the win- dows of the village, lighting up the heavy masses of the chestnut- trees, and pouring broad floods of yellow rays upon the vineyards that clothed the hills. Far off we could hear the sound of music ; and coming nearer and nearer, winding down the steep paths, were the figures of the peasants bearing great baskets of ripe grapes upon their heads. | All at once, the carriage which had taken the lead for some time disappeared in a gateway between thick chestnut trees upon the right, a sudden burst of music filled the air, and a confused sound of many voices. We followed, and, entering a court, found ourselves between a vineyard on one side, and the whitewashed, vine-trellised arches of a little terrace which ran along the front of a small, one- storied house, on the other. On the steps, and crowding the arched openings, and peeping between the leaves, were numbers of active, constantly-moving figures; some alighting, others welcoming guests already arrived from the country round ; servants hurrying to and fro with bags, shawls and packages; a row of black-bearded gipsies with violins, cymbals, and I know not what, in their hands, producing sounds that seemed to have electricity in them, so that I was not surprised to see Erzsi’s light little figure, already enveloped in an enormous cooking apron, suddenly commence to keep time to the music. Then as suddenly she darted off, after making the announcement : ‘Supper in half an hour, ladies and gentlemen. Not to be kept waiting.” ‘Only give us enough, Erzsi; that is all we ask,” was shouted in reply. And then began confusion ten times confounded. COMIC LOOKS, (E00)