ispensable short-stemmed
clay-pipe--all burned out and being sucked only for its bitter taste.

[Footnote 35: The peculiar and characteristic Magyar instrument which is
indispensable to every gypsy orchestra, taking the place of harp and
piano. It is in the form of a zither of large size, played with padded
sticks, and forms the foundation of these wandering bands.]

And the whole "czimbalom" playing is such a jest, so grotesque; the
player's arms jerk and wave continuously; his whole shoulder and head
are in perpetual motion; whereas, with the piano, the five fingers do
all; the artist's relation to the piano is that of my lord to his
children, whom he addresses from a far-off height; the czimbalom-player
is "_per tu_" with his instrument.

But the young lady had the grace of one born to the instrument. As she
took the sticks in her hands and struck a chord upon the outstretched
strings, her face assumed a new expression; so far, we must confess,
there had been much "naivete" in it, now she felt at home; this was her
world.

She sang two songs to the guests, both taken from what are called in our
country "Parliamentary airs;" they used to break forth in "juratus"
coffee-houses, during the sitting of Parliament, when there was more
spirit in the youths of the country than now.

The one had a fine impassioned refrain: "From Vienna town, from west to
east, the wind hath a cold blast." The end of it was that the Danube
water is bitter, for at Pressburg many bitter tears have flowed into it,
"Which the great ones of our land have shed, because Ragalyi was not
sent to be ambassador." Now patriots are more sparing with their tears;
but in those days much bitterness was expressed with the air of "Vienna
town."

The other air was "Rose-bud, laurel," which had also a pretty refrain;
it is full of such expressions as "altars of freedom," "angels of
freedom," "wreaths of freedom," and other such mythological things. How
the strings responded to the young woman's touch, what expression was in
her refrain! It was as if she felt the meaning of those beautiful
"flosculi" best of all, and must suffer more than all for them.

Then she introduced a third parliamentary song, the contents of which
were satirical; but the satire was purely local and personal, and would
not be intelligible to people of modern days.

Topandy was inexpressibly pleased by it: he asked for it again. Someone
had ridiculed the priests in it, but in such a