WASHER-WOMEN
prominent feature of the village, and from this arid waste straight, wide thoroughfares lead out into the open country behind, and casually end there, like the streets of the great shanty cities in the Far West. The architectural examples found in Duna Földvár are not notable; indeed, the inscription over the church door, “Isten-Gondviselésnyujtottdiszújalakotrám,” was the only detail in relation to architecture that fixed our attention. A few sleepy market-women sat in the broad shadow of the ugly town-hall, and, except for the constant coming and going of many graceful maidens bearing tubs of Danube water on their heads, there was little or no movement on the streets. All the life of the village concentrated itself under the sandy bluff by the river-side. A procession of barefooted girls continually passed along the shore. Peasant men stripped to the waist, with their divided-skirt-like trousers rolled up into the narrowest compass, washed their cattle and wagons in the shallow water, while a busy army of men and women unloaded the barges and carried the heavy freight to the warehouses. At every available point of the crowded river-front washerwomen, with their petticoats wet to the waist, stood knee-deep in the stream, and accompanied their lively chatter with the vigorous tattoo of their active mallets. In the shadow of the houses near the landing great piles of watermelons were the centres of groups of all ages, every individual busy with the luscious, juicy fruit. On all sides we saw flashing rich color, beautiful types, picturesque costumes, graceful action, and the bustle of ceaseless activity. The sparkling river, the brilliant colors glowing in the bright August sun, and the multitude of figures tempting the pencil fairly dazed us at first, and we could only rush enthusiastically from point to point, finding each new group and each new incident more fascinating than the other.
While we were busy sketching on the river-front a young gentleman approached, introduced himself, and said he had been sent as the emissary of a party of ladies and gentlemen who were about to go on a picnic excursion, and desired the honor of our company. They had heard all about our cruise from the Budapest papers, he added, and were anxious to show us some attention. We felt obliged to decline the invitation, for the day was fast advancing, and the subjects before us were both fascinating and numerous, and the young man, with proper apologies for disturbing us, withdrew. Towards the end of the afternoon we paddled off, much depressed by the necessity of leaving practically untouched the wealth of picturesque material in the little river town, and, indeed, very loath to seek a camp. Just after we rounded the point below the town we heard the
DUNA FÜLDVÁR
strains of gypsy music, and soon caught sight of a large boat filled with ladies and gentlemen, apparently waiting for us in mid-stream. In a few moments we were alongside, and were very much pleased to find that it was the same picnic party which had begged for the honor of our presence some hours before. Indeed, it came out that the polite emissary had lingered about and watched our departure, and then had hurried on horseback to warn the party of our approach. We suffered ourselves to be piloted ashore, where, in a pleasant grove by the water’s edge we found a large table spread, a dancing-floor arranged, and everything in order for a genuine Hungarian festivity. A band of ten gypsies furnished the music, a dozen young ladies, with as many young gentlemen, a few men of middle age and a proper number of chaperons, made up the party, and it comprised, as we soon found out, the professional men of the town—the lawyers and doctors with their families and intimate friends. We lost no time in becoming acquainted, for all formalities of introduction were soon over, and then the feast began. Like every similar entertainment in Hungary, speech-making was a great feature of the dinner. Every one had to do his share of this, and when the last toast was drunk, a mixed Hungarian-American sentiment, we all took partners, and the csárdás began.