About
noon, after we had ridden some two hours, the sun's rays beat down upon
us with such force that we made an unintentional halt on coming to a
well by the wayside. It was one of those picturesque wells so familiar
in Eastern landscape--a beam balanced on a lofty pole, with a rod
hanging from one end, to which is attached the bucket for drawing
water.
Not far from the well was one of those curious tree hay-stacks to be
seen in some parts of Hungary. It is the practice to clear away a
certain number of the middle branches of a tree, then a wooden platform
is constructed, on which a quantity of hay is placed in store for winter
use. This mushroom-shaped hay-rick receives a cover of thatch, out of
the centre of which comes the tree-top.
The shade afforded by this wigwam on stilts looked most inviting just
then, and we yielded to the seduction. We got off, and throwing
ourselves at full length on the grass, allowed our horses to graze close
to us, without taking the trouble to picket them.
The heat of the noonday was perfectly overpowering. The momentary shade
was an intense relief, for we had been in the unmitigated glare of the
sun the whole morning. Of course we quickly had out our cigar-cases, and
puffing the grateful weed, we were soon in full enjoyment of dignified
ease. We were in that idle mood when, one says with the lotus-eaters,
"taking no care"--
"There is no joy but calm!
Why should we only _toil_, the roof and crown of things.
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