Photo by A. W. Cutler 

 RICH HUNGARIAN GIPSIES VERY C0MP0RTAI5I.Y ENCAMPED ON THE VERANDA OF A 

 HOUSE AT THE VIEEAGE OF SOROKSAR, HUNGARY 



On account of their thieving propensities, they are never allowed in the towns, and only 

 in villages for a period of two days. This vacant house had been rented for the time. 

 They go about the country mending pots and pans and "annexing" anything they can lay 

 their hands on. There are some 200,000 Gipsies in Hungary, and they are looked upon 

 universally as a most dangerous community — not without good reason. The urn on the 

 table and the tea-pot is silver. These round, low tables are always used by the Gipsies, 

 and the draperies on the walls are also typical. The woman standing up on the left is wear- 

 ing a necklace of large silver coins. The man lying down is lounging on some of the 

 immense pillows always carried. 



the true index and key-note of the Mag- 

 yar character. 



Given one or two violins, one or two 

 Czigany taken at hazard, with a cimbalom 

 and an "atmosphere" — without which no 

 primds could do himself justice — and you 

 have the light of the IMagyar world, about 

 which flutters every little moth within 

 trumpet call. Place does not matter. 

 Time was made for the restless Briton. 

 In a moment the listeners are in Dream- 

 land. The air may be sad and plaintive ; 

 it may be the day-dream of the swarthy 

 improvisator lost, for the moment, to all 

 earthly things — the mournful song of the 

 Ishmael race. His thoughts are with 

 some Hagar of the wilderness, but where 

 are those of his entranced devotees? On 

 the Field of Blood, in sleepy old Buda ; 

 in the sepulcher of Mohacs (the battle- 

 field against the Turks) ; wherever a 



rough destiny has led their long-suffering 

 people. 



Anon the dream is dead and the time 

 changes. The primas, with glistening 

 eyes and a set smile, breaks into the mad 

 whirl of the Csardas. The peasants 

 dance for hours and hours, but in the 

 end it is they who are exhausted, never 

 the figures. Faster and faster, fast as 

 bow can travel, to the noisy accompani- 

 ment of moving feet, this insanity of 

 melody pours forth until one or other, 

 performer or audience, is overcome. The 

 dance ends as abruptly as it began. 



Nothing is then too good for the 

 primas. If in the city, money and cham- 

 pagne, even caresses, the "bravas" of 

 scores of people intoxicated with coffee 

 and music, go out to him. He is again, 

 as his forefathers were before him, lord 

 of a thousand camels and master of des- 



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