This great Alföld which is at an average height of between three hundred and three hundred and fifty feet above sea-level, is the most extensive plain in Europe, and passing over parts of its surface, unbroken but by groups of trees, occasional villages, or clusters of farm buildings, with far-stretching expanses of maize, wheat, or other crops, one who knows the western continent is reminded again and again of the settled prairies of Golden Canada. Differences are, of course, noticeable as soon as we study details, but the general impression is the same. Mile after mile we journey through this richly cultivated country, but the railway journey right across it, or the glimpses of it which we get from the river, give but an inadequate impression. It is necessary to leave the neighbourhood of the railway, to visit remote villages or isolated farms, to gain an adequate idea of it; and to come in touch with the people to learn something of the fascination which their country possesses for them. That fascination is, however, widely reflected in Hungarian literature, as Mr. Louis Felbermann has abundantly shown in his history and description of Hungary. In the work of one of the leading lyrical poets of the country, Charles Kisfaludy, we have a pathetic expression of the _nostalgia_ felt by the exiled Alfölder-- “Oh! lovely boundaries of my native plain, Shall I behold thee, dearest spot, again? Where’er I turn my steps, o’er vale or hill, My longing glances turn towards thee still. I fain would ask the bird upon the wing Dost thou some memory from my country bring? I fain would ask the flying clouds the same; The whisp’ring zephyrs seem to breathe its name. Can they console me? No, they only start The brooding sadness in my lonely heart; Like a poor orphan do I wander now, O’er wither’d grass upon the mountain’s brow. Belovèd cot, where I beheld the light, How can I live when thou art not in sight? Just like a leaf that whirls upon the wind, My body drifts--but leaves my soul behind!”[15] The national poet of Hungary, Alexander Petófi, has sung of the charms of the Alföld, too, and the following is Mr. Felbermann’s literal rendering of a part of his tribute-- “I love the plains! It is only there that I feel free! My eyes can wander as they please, quite unconstrained! One is not confined by barriers. The mountain cliffs do not frown down at one like threatening objects, Throwing about their loudly trickling rivulets as though they hold in their grasp a group of noisy chains! Let no one say the plains are not beautiful. They have their charm. They are like a shy maiden who covers her face with a thick veil, Though she unveils herself before her friends. And the eye is lost in wonder, for it sees a fairy standing before it. I love the plains! I wandered about them on my fiery horse.” And again from Petófi may be quoted the following prose version as rendered by the same translator--