And society is _very_ charming in Transylvania. Nearly all the ladies
speak English well, and are extremely well read in our literature. To
speak French is a matter of course everywhere; but they infinitely
prefer our literature, and speak our language always in preference when
they can.

The works of such men as Darwin, Lyell, and Tyndall are read. I remember
seeing these, and many other leading authors, in a bookseller's shop in
Klausenburg. It is true this last-named place is the capital--viz., the
Magyar capital--of Transylvania, but in most respects it is a mere
provincial town.

A friend and myself happened to be lunching one day in the principal
inn--it was in the _salle a manger_--and we were talking together in
English. Presently I noticed a remarkably little man at the next table,
who looked towards us several times; finally he got up from his chair,
or rather I should say got down, and making a sign to us equivalent to
touching his hat, he said, "Gentlemen, I am an Englishman; I thought it
right to tell you in case you should think there was no one present who
understood what you were talking!" It was very civil of the little
fellow, for we were talking rather unguardedly about some well-known
personages. I then asked him how he came to be in this part of the
world, and he told me he was a jockey, and had been over several times
to ride at the Klausenburg races; but he added he was very sorry that
they always took place on a Sunday! There is certainly no "_bitter_
observance of the Sabbath" in Hungary generally. Offices are open, and
business is conducted as usual--certainly in the morning.

There is some good coursing in the neighbourhood of Klausenburg, which
is kept up closely on the pattern of English sport. I had two or three
good runs with the harriers, and on one occasion got a spill that was a
close shave of breaking my neck. Count T---- had given me a mount. The
horse was all right, but not knowing the nature of the country, I was
not aware that the ground drops suddenly in many places. Coming to
something of this kind without preparation, the horse threw me, and I
was pitched down an embankment upwards of twelve feet in depth. Several
people who saw the mishap thought it was all up with me, but, curiously
enough, I was absolutely unhurt. A pull at my flask set me all right,
and I walked back the five miles to Klausenburg. The horse unfortunately
galloped away, and was not brought back till the n