exchanged, as the bowl passes round the hospitable board.

But the last day of 1848 saw no wassail bowl in Szolnok, no hospitable
meetings to hail the new-born year.

All day and through the night the whistle of the train was heard, as
it came and went incessantly; and the arrivals and departures being
at uncertain hours, the terminus was crowded with people wearing
gloomy and anxious countenances, while the new-comers gazed perplexed
around them, ignorant whither to turn in the confused and unknown
town.

Beyond the terminus, heavy baggage-carts had overturned numerous
unclaimed wares; while, farther off, uncovered waggons stood about,
and great guns, chests bearing the Government seal, arms, vessels, and
articles of clothing, lay strewn unheeded all around.

Again the train came in with cold and anxious passengers, while outers
pressed into the vacant seats; and many who had waited all day in
vain, finding no places, were obliged once more to return weary and
disconsolate.

Armed and official men alighted from the nearest coaches, and again
the terminus was crowded. Women closely veiled and muffled, pale
trembling girls, and little children were there also, taking a hurried
farewell, or waiting anxiously for expected friends and relatives; and
many were the unheeded inquiries--an hundred questions put for every
answer.

And now the train was filled with military, whose wild songs chimed
strangely with the noise of the machinery.

Meanwhile, all was hurry and confusion within the town: each
individual seeming occupied by his especial grievances--each felt
alone among the thousands who surrounded them. The new-comers went
from house to house, asking lodgings and warmth from inmates more
wretched than themselves. Powerful magnates, whose palaces had been
scarcely large enough for their numerous guests and retinues, were
glad to find shelter on the earthen floor of a reed cottage; while
ancient enemies, whose feuds had made a kingdom too small to contain
them, now shared their broken fortunes in one room; and high-born
maidens, accustomed to every refinement, received with thankfulness
the benches proffered by strangers, who found a scarcely harder bed
upon the earthen floor.

On the other side of Szolnok, numerous vehicles pursued their course
in long unbroken lines, moving with difficulty on the frozen uneven
roads, and filled with men, women, and children--cold and anxiety
depicted in every countenance. Who