The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1916-11-17

seas, that the sportsman finds his par.
adise. There, during October and No
vember, the wild geese are found in mil
lions. The sodden meadows are COW
cred by their innumerable focks, as
if by snowdrifts. When they rise they
obscure the sunlight, and the noise
of their wings is like the rush of a
mighty whirlwind. In bitches, in pits
dug by the rivers brink, defiant Of
rheumatic pangs, the gunner hides,
and tremendous is the toll he takes. It
is a most exciting sport, and one is
almost inclined to agree with the ma
tive who remarked to me: "Ah, he
who has once taken part at wild
goose shooting will be slave of him
forever!"
Until the brooks and ponds are COW
cred with ice the sport endures; then,
water no longer procurable, at a given
moment, as if by preconeerted signal,
in one immense mass the dgTea birds
spread their wings and are or t0sthe
shores of the Lower Danube.
I suppose that in all lands there Is
an innate antagonism between the
dwellers upon the plains and the ma
tives of the rugged mountains land-
witness the distrust, spokeA or un-
spoken, of Celt for Sassenach and Sas-
senach for Celt. But in no other Eu-
ropean country is it so marked as In
Magyarland. Between the Lowlander
of the great Hungarian plain and the
Highlander of the mountains which
form it's boundary there is great
gulf fixed, across which the pairs Of
dark eyes glare into each other with
contempt unutterable. The Lowlander
calls the mountain land "the crooked
country" and makes no bones about
stating that the ways of its inhab-
itants are as tortuous as 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.
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 q blank, whose god
is his belly, and whose only joy Is to
stuff himself with pork and wheaton
bread!
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
it amid autumn floods, when rain de-
scends 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, one who would
let it rain and another to make it dry
again? Will 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 over--the empty, snow-covered
plain? A silencesbroken only by that
terrible wind of the HOrtObagy, which
howls 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 q
mantle of tenderest green, when the
fragrant brelke, exhilaratfng as cham
pagne, blow softly over a carpet Of
fairest blosfom whose Kaleidoscope
coloring extends as far as the eye can
reach? OrSwill it be when the pitiless
sun beats down from sky of brass
upon barched 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, 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?