TAIT’S EDINBURGH MAGAZINE, FROM JANUARY TO DECEMBER, VOL. XXII. 1855

The inhabitants of the Puszta are herdsmen, following great droves of horses, buffaloes, snow-white bullocks, sheepand swine from pasture to pasture, and remaining the whole year round beneath the canopy
of Heaven. The wildest amongst them are the swineherds, and their greatest distinction is to be a redoubtable fighter. They are pre-eminently the heroes of the plain. Even their very pleasures arc warlike and sanguinary.

The swineherds are very fond of dancing, their favourite dance being a representation of catching
and killing a pig. The dancer, while springing in the air inspired by the music of a violin
or the bagpipes, whirls a couple of axes round his head so rapidly that they resemble a pair
of wheels; now throws them away, anon catches them again, moving his feet, turning himself to the measure of the music, and finishes the performance by striking dead a pig placed ready for the blow.

These axes are fixed to a handle about three feet long, and serve both as a walking-stick and as a pastoral crook. The herdsmen become so dexterous in the use of their axes, that one has been known to throw
his axe into the midst of a crowd of persons, where an enraged buffalo was treading and
overthrowing everything in its way, and hit the animal so exactly as to kill it on the spot.

But still more singular and pugnacious is another pastime of the swineherds of the Puszta. The Konász is not exactly a thief, but robs occasionally, for the fun of the thing. This is the custom of the pastime. Having
determined to eat one of his neighbour’s pigs, he goes at night, with five or six roystering
companions, to his neighbour’s hut, and gives three knocks at the door with his axe. The sleeper knows what this means, being ” to the manner born,” — it is a challenge to come forth and defend his pigs. Out he rushes, he and his people, and a battle-royal ensues, in which the axes clash, and blood flows sometimes from terrible wounds. If the defenders are victorious, why, he ” saves his bacon”; but if the aggressors, as the case generally is, they are entitled to select the fattest of the herd and carry him off.

The axe is, in other cases, the swineherd’s gauntlet. If he is ill for want of a fight, he goes to the Csúrda, or hedge inn, and striking his axe into the cross-beam of the ceiling, asks, “Who is the man here?” If the company decline the challenge they leave the room, and the fighter celebrates the triumph by getting drunk in solitary glory. If he meets his match, as generally he does, a ling is formed, and the duel commences, and always ends by a fight all round, in the Irish fashion.

Nor is the axe a plaything, a gage, a martial weapon only; but it is also the rod of justice amongst the swineherds. Suppose, for instance, a man has lost a horse or any other animal, and suspects that a neighbour has taken it, he invites him to the Csárda to take wine. After the third or fourth bottle, Paul suddenly says, ” Brother Stephen, have you seen my grey foal ‘:” “Not that I know of,” coolly replies Stephen. “Now, then, tell me truly Stephen; you must have seen it. I have seen it amongst your herd.” ” You have mistaken my large grey dog for your foal,” is the answer.” “I see,” says Paul, “that you are determined to know nothing of it;” and then suddenly drawing his axe from beneath his sheepskin- coat, he strikes Stephen a sharp blow on the head. ” So, you have struck me !” exclaims Paul, and drawing his axe returns blow for blow. They fight ou till honour is satisfied, and then Paul suddenly remembers that he has got the foal, upon which they drain another bottle, and leave the house as good friends as they entered it. These rough pastimes and keen-edged lawsuits, occasionally end in manslaughter; and then the homicide, instead of returning to his herd, takes to the Steppe for a living; stealing cattle, robbing travellers, and extorting food aud ’shelter at the thinly-scattered farms; nor does the farmer dare reject his self-invited guests,  knowing that if he did, his dwelling would soon  be in flames.