le caravans passed on foot, in
miserable clothing, carrying empty sacks, and followed by carts loaded
with iron machines and broken weapons, on the tops of which women and
children lay huddled together in blankets and rugs. One or two
noblemen's caleches, with the windows drawn up, were obliged to follow
slowly in the rear of these creaking machines, which the badness of
the roads, or the steep banks, made it impossible to pass.

Thus closed the last day of the old year, and the first day of the new
was a weary repetition of similar scenes.

The trains moved again all day and all night, bringing more anxious
and gloomy countenances, baggage, coaches, and cannon. Those who had
arrived yesterday hastened on to-day, while the fresh comers again
sought shelter from house to house, and the lingerers still awaited
the next coaches--searching in vain for relatives, or friends, or
trunks.

On the opposite side of the Theiss, the carriages of the fugitives
seemed to have no end. Here and there a few mat-covered vehicles might
be seen, where a mother, hastening to join her husband's flight, had
brought her infant in its cradle; but the rest being mostly uncovered,
were exposed to the chill blast and the drifting snow, which seemed to
turn every face to stone.

Travellers were seen crossing the inhospitable waste from morning till
night, and all night again till morning; while the little inns, at the
distance of a day's journey on the puszta, were empty and deserted.

Troops of riders, and heavy cannon, pursued their doubtful path among
the hills, or, stopped up by the snow, were obliged to remain
stationary till chance should bring them assistance, or they should
perish in the cold.

And so it continued on the second, third, fourth, fifth day; on the
sixth the movement ceased, and all was silent. The train brought only
one or two passengers--taciturn and moody, like the rest. Clerks and
officials left their places and retired; the lingerers took their
lonely and sad way home; and the cannon, chests, and baggage, which
had not hitherto been removed, were left on the roads to the care of
fate.

* * * * *

The last fugitives had left the town with break of day: all was calm,
silently awaiting the mysterious future.

Towards noon, the beating of drums and the sound of the trumpet
announced the entrance of the Hungarian army. The troops had an hour's
rest, and received a hearty welcome from c