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Show -a v I ..111! IMIII1 " Village Beaus In Hungary. (Prepared by the National Geographic Society, Washington. D. C.) THE.gala day of the year in Budapest, Buda-pest, Hungary, is August 20, Saint Stephen's Day, when the embalmed hand of the country's patron saint is carried with much pomp through the streets in a jeweled reliquary to the old Mathias church. In these days of the rapid modernizing modern-izing of the more traveled countries of Europe, the old-fashioned festivals, religious fetes, national costumes and customs are fast disappearing, and there remain no more novel and entertaining en-tertaining sights than those surrounding surround-ing the ancient fete of Saint Stephen of Hungary. For who Saint Stephen was and why he was thus honored we must go back some nine hundred and odd years in Hungarian history, from which we gather the following information: Vaik came to the throne of the Magyar duchy in the year 997. He applied for and received the title of Apostolic King from Pope Sj'lvester II, and was crowned in Budapest in the year 1000, under the Christian name of Stephen. He did much for his countrymen to bring them into the established church, and founded throughout his kingdom churches, schools and convents. His administration was a wise one, and so firmly did he deal with the attempted attempt-ed uprising of the "old Magyar religion" re-ligion" party that when his death occurred, oc-curred, in 1036, he left his country entirely converted to Christianity. So much had he done for the advancement advance-ment of the Christian faith among the wild hordes of eastern Europe, and added to the civilization of his subjects, sub-jects, that he was canonized, and gladly glad-ly proclaimed by the Hungarians as their patron saint. Not to know Budapest is to have missed one of the loveliest of European Euro-pean cities. It has its own distinctive stateliness that reflects the cultural flowering of a race whose kingdom has been enthroned on the Danube for a thousand years. As certain American metropolitan quarters, such as "Little Italy" or "Little Germany," reflect their mother countries in miniature, so Budapest's topography reflects on a small scale the lineaments of what, as a result of the war, is literally "Little Hungary." Buda and Pest. Ancient Buda, on the Danube's right bank, rears aloft on rocky crests that represent the foothills of Hungary's Hun-gary's mountains, while on the other bank modern Pest stretches away in levels that prelude Hungary's plains. Buda, with its splendid palace, symbolizes sym-bolizes Hungary's long succession of rulers, reaching xfrom Stephen the Saint, of 1000 A. D., down to the latter-day reigns of Maria Theresa and Franz Josef. Pest's parliament houses, memorable in their river-set majesty, symbolize the early won liberties of a people whose forefathers' rights were established almost contemporaneously with England's winning of Magna Charta. Above all, Budapest is a city of beautiful vistas. One's admiration is divided between its stately public buildings and the carefully apportioned appor-tioned squares, parks, and boulevards that lend to the picture an architectural archi-tectural airiness, a spaciousness un-defaced un-defaced by an industrialism whose chimneys loom in adjacent suburbs. Few cities over the million mark, with as many as 72,000 factory workers, work-ers, can boast, like Budapest, of an unindustrialized aspect, of an island pleasance lying in midriver at its doors, of delightful riverside promenades, prom-enades, where one lounges or lunches and where motor cars are strictly taboo. The people of Budapest love pleasure pleas-ure and for miles along the river there are bathing places where young and old mass on the sands or paddle about in graceful canoes. Across from Pest rise rounded hills dotted with small villages and summer villas from which one has lovely views of the teeming city, the wide plain and the winding river. Certain post-war changes reveal with what ingenuity Hungary has met her reconstruction problem. "How many crowns for a dollar?" you may ask a Budapest forei-n-cxrh.-ir.go dork. lie wiii reply. "I'll give you tlie rale in pongns." You may he familiar fa-miliar with most European currencies and have literary aceuainiancr's with doubloons, ducats, and moidores : but what, in the name of coins ancient and modern, you ask, is a pengo? Krone Is Now Pengo. The answer, as suggested by the word's tinkling sound, is "Money that rings like gold." When post-war Hungary's Hun-gary's currency crashed, the phrase "Hungarian krone" (crown) became a synonym oT worthlessness, and so, along with her financial reconstruction reconstruc-tion under the auspices of the League of Nations, a national coin-naming competition was inaugurated. As a result, the discredited "krone" was replaced by the onomatopoeic "pengo," to reinforce faith In the stabilized currency. cur-rency. Side trips from Budapest will convince con-vince the traveler that, contrary to first Impressions, the Hungarian plain is far from being either monotonous or lacking In color. One need not travel for more than a few hours east of the capital in order to see all the colors of the rainbow, or gypsy camps, or a Wild West roundup, or a first-rate first-rate Fata Morgana, with Illusive seas and cities rising across the plain. The colors will assail your eyes at the village of Mezokovesd any Sunday Sun-day morning, in the church square seething with folk. Their black garments gar-ments merely serve as background for superimposed stripes, aprons, bodices, bod-ices, woven in mixed patterns of orange, or-ange, green, yellow and purple. A fringed apron, kaleidoscopic . in effect, hangs from the waist of each maiden or youth. The former's full-pleated full-pleated skirt sways rhythmically as she walks. The latter, in his short, velvet-collared jacket, his tall, flat-brimmed flat-brimmed derby, and that indescribably indescrib-ably coquettish apron, would inspire any fraternal order of the So-and-Sos with hints for a striking lodge costume. cos-tume. Matrons wearing the cornucopia-shaped cornucopia-shaped coif of medieval association display garments of lesser color areas, while dear old grannies promenade in solemn black mere background for youth's peacock pageant. If you are fortunate enough to view a marriage ceremony, the color will be heightened. Down the village street comes a costumed wedding party. In naive symbolism of hoped-for fertility, fertil-ity, the bride carries a chicken, while the bridegroom displays a baby doll In his hat ; and after the event is over the peacock maidens parade up and down in pairs for the especial benefit of the peacock youths. The Wild West round-up may be witnessed around Dehreczen, whose neighboring plains contain 60,000 head of live stock. The spectacle of stalwart stal-wart csikos (cowboys) throwing the lasso while wearing derby hats and petticoats lends itself to mirth until one discovers that for dexterity with rope and horse they have few equals. The big round-ups coincide with De-hreczen's De-hreczen's fairs, where masses of horses, longhorned cattle and gaily clad csikos form a spectacle that could hardly have been equaled by our West at its wildest. Great Hungarian Plain. From the northward-rising Tokaj-Hegyalja Tokaj-Hegyalja mountains, whence comes the sweet and heady Tokay wine, and to southward, along the Tisza's entire en-tire course, stretches the larger Al-fold, Al-fold, or Great Hungarian plain, separated sep-arated from the smaller Alfold by two mountain ranges. Inundation is its ancient enemy. Government engineers engi-neers assert that the fall of a single dike on the Tisza would put one-sixth of Hungary under water. The Alfold's grassy expanses, where sky meets circling horizon like a blue, inverted bowl, has the poetry of timeless time-less calm. At times its distant clouds seem so low, so solid, that you almost al-most fancy a cowboy could lasso one and haul it, to earth. Daylong nothing noth-ing is heard but sheep bells atinkle or the lulling pastoral of some shepherd's flute. The Alfold's gypsies may be found amid crazy hovels adjoining the raveled-out ends of some village street. Against a background of dirt floors, paneiess windows, filth Indescribable, Inde-scribable, out will rwh a gang of wild-eyed children, swarthy men, slipshod slip-shod women, to see what they can sell parsing tourists. They proffer music, but whatever be the tune, your true Tsitiane musician seems ten: lerament-ully lerament-ully unable to perform it except in wild and wavelike strains of abysmal despair. |