ot be such a great people after all.

Not wishing to put my host to expense, more especially as the expedition
was undertaken solely for my benefit and at my suggestion, I paid the
score at the Balanbanya Inn without saying anything. I was very vexed to
find, however, that by doing so I had offended my companion very much.
He reminded me that I was a stranger in Szeklerland and his guest, and
it was contrary to all his ideas of hospitality that I should be the
paymaster. Instead of starting homewards, as we were ready to do, he
ordered more wine and some sardines, being the greatest delicacy the
house afforded. I was obliged to make a show of partaking of something
more, though I had amply supped. For these extras of course my friend
paid, but he was only half appeased, and was never quite the same again.

The following morning I left the house of my too-hospitable
entertainers. My destination now was St Miklos. My road thither lay
through a pine-forest, as lonely a tract as could well be imagined, for
there were no signs whatever of human habitations. Certainly the weird
solitude of a pine-wood is more impressive than any other kind of forest
scenery. Under the impervious shade and the long grey vistas, one moves
forward with something of a superstitious feeling, as though one were
intruding into the sanctuary of unseen spirits. I cannot say that I was
a prey to such idle fancies, for the spirits I was likely to meet would
be very tangible enemies. This district had a bad reputation, owing to
several robberies having been committed in the neighbourhood; in fact
the whole country was just then under martial law. I was well armed, and
being alone I kept my weather-eye open; but I saw not even the ghost of
a brigand, and reached St Miklos in safety.

It is usual when incendiary fires or robberies have been rife in any
district to place that part of the country under the _Statorium_, so
that if any person or persons are caught in _flagrante delicto_, they
are summarily tried and hung before a week is over. When I was in
Transylvania in the autumn of '75, the whole of the north-eastern corner
was under the _Statorium_.

At St Miklos I put up at the house of an Armenian, who received me with
a most frank and kindly welcome, conducting me to the guest-chamber
himself after giving orders to the servants to attend to my horse. St
Miklos is charmingly situated in the valley of Gyergyo, at an elevation
of nearly 3000 feet abov