The Caldwell watchman. (Columbia, La.) 1885-1946, 1916-11-10

tive who remarked to NE: "Ah, he
who has once taken part at a wild
goose shooting will be Il slave of him
forever"
Until the brooks and ponds are COW
cred with ice the sport cndureS; then,
water no longer procurablc, at a given
moment, as if by pr~econccrted signal,
in one immense mass the great birds
spread their wings and are off 70 the
shores Of the Lower Danube.
| suppose that in all lands there is
an innate antug0nlSln between the
dweltcrS upon the plains and the ma
tiveS of the rugged mountain land
witness the distruSt, spoken or I'M
spoken, Of Celt for Sassenach and Sas-
Senach fer Celt. But in no other Eu-
| ropean country is it SO marked as in
| MaSyarlund. Between the Lowlander
of the great Hungarian plain and the
Iighlander Of the mountains which
form its boundary there is q great
gulf fixed, across which the pairs Of
dark eyes glare into each other with
| contempt u~nuttcrable. The Lowlandcr
calls the mountain land "the crooked
| country" and makes no bones about
stating that the ways Of its inhab-
itantS are as %tortuouS az their scenery.
He despises them for the poverty
which wrings a scanty subsistence
from the barren soil and compels them
to live on maize porridge and barley
bread. Above all, he scorns their p0-
etical fancies and dreamy legends, for
to him poet and wastrei are synony-
nous terms.
In his turn, the Highlander loathes
the monotony of the plains; to him
! the misty blue ridges and snow-capped
| peaks, the narrow. pine-Clad valleys
and roaring torrents are the ideal
home. He pourS contempt upon the
heavy, dull-witted LOWlander. whose
mind, he says. is a blank, whose god
J Is Ills btllN. anu "ll'NV pliS ivy 10 ~
stuff himself with pork and wheaton
bread. But here the mOuntaineer
does something less than justice to his
lowland brother, for the greatest OF
Hungarian poets, Sander PetOfy, he
whose genius is so many-sided that he
has been compared to Burns and By
ron, to Beranger and de Musset, to
Tennyson and Shakespeare, is a dwell
er upon the great plain.
Varied Phases of the Great Plain.
One wonders at what season Of the
year the allies will finally debouch
upon the Hortobagy. Will they see
1t amid autumn floods, when rain de-
sends in torrents, not for days or for
weeks, but for months at a time
when, speaking Of their weather, the
natives say: Here we ought to have
not one God but two, Il who would
let it rain and another to make it dry
again? VIII they see the wild geese
roaming in countless thousands over
the sodden grassland? Or will the
hosts of our allies come in the depths
Of the bitter winter, when the cattle
have been driven home and silence
reigns oyer the empty, snow-cOvered
plain? A silence broken only by that
terrible wind of the HOrtobagy, which
bowls and screams like a pack of in
sensate demons Over the frozen waste.
Or will they come during the months
Of May and June, when it wears a
mantle of tenderest green, when the
fragrant breeze, exhilarating as cham
payne, blows softly owe a carpet OF
fairest blossom whose Kaleidoscope
coloring extends as far as the eye can
reach? Or will it be when the pitiless
sun beats down from a sky of brass
upon q parched and gasping land
when the Fata Morgana, the mirage
more wonderful here than on the great
Sahara itself, will show them sheets
of ripping water where, a moment be-
fore, was sun-baked plain; will show
them shady woods and nesting vii.
lagos and slender church spires and
cattle standing knee-deep in cool, dark
pools?
Autumn, winter, spring, summer
I which season will see the coming OF
; the deliverer? For to the Transylvan
7 ian fettered to the Magyar, to tbe
: Magyar bound with chains Of iron tt
: the Austrian, he will be a deliverel
: though bearing the outward semblance
of an invader. When will the deliv
erer march in his millions across thu
' Great Hungarian plain?