"It's very good of the Poles to help us, but I'd rather see a Hungarian army led by a Magyar chief."
"So would I. Still, we ought not to grumble with the bridge that carries us over the stream."
Sound advice, no doubt, though it scarcely satisfied me, and I was to think a good deal more about it before the campaign finished.
The journey to Pesth passed without incident, as we were amidst friends; and the morning after our arrival in the city we began our new duties.
As the general had stated, there were numbers of men willing and eager to join the army, but they were without weapons, except hay-forks and such like implements, and had not the faintest notion of military drill.
However, they were enthusiastic, and if not patient, at least tractable; so their instructors hoped to make something of them before long.
The drill-ground was the great plain or field of Rakos, behind the city, which in olden days was the meeting-place of the Diet, when our Magyar forefathers, attended by their vassals, assembled to discuss the affairs of the nation.
Once again the place was filled with men who had come together in thousands--ploughmen, carters, shepherds, miners--not to talk, but to learn how to fight the enemies of their country.
To a military veteran the spectacle must have afforded ample food for fun and amusement. Rakoczy laughed without stint.
Thousands of men, grouped in small detachments, were going through the elementary steps--men drawn from all parts of the kingdom, and dressed in every conceivable style, but for the most part true Magyars.