The International Weekly Miscellany, Volume I. No. 9 | Page 3

difficult task of keeping a watchful eye upon these
herds. He knows their strength, their habits, the spots they frequent; he
knows the birthday of every foal, and when the animal, fit for training,
should be taken out of the herd. He has then a hard task upon his hands,
compared with which a Grand-Ducal wild-boar hunt is child's play; for
the horse has not only to be taken alive from the midst of the herd, but
of course safe and sound in wind and limb. For this purpose, the
celebrated whip of the Csikos serves him; probably at some future time
a few splendid specimens of this instrument will be exhibited in the
Imperial Arsenal at Vienna, beside the sword of Scanderberg and the
Swiss 'morning-stars.'
"This whip has a stout handle from one and a half to two feet long, and
a cord which measures not less than from eighteen to twenty-four feet

in length. The cord is attached to a short iron chain, fixed to the top of
the handle by an iron ring. A large leaden button is fastened to the end
of the cord, and similar smaller buttons are distributed along it at
distances, according to certain rules derived from experience, of which
we are ignorant. Armed with this weapon, which the Csikos carries in
his belt, together with a short grappling-iron or hook, he sets out on his
horse-chase. Thus mounted and equipped without saddle or stirrup, he
flies like the storm-wind over the heath, with such velocity that the
grass scarcely bends under the horse's hoof; the step of his horse is not
heard, and the whirling cloud of dust above his head alone marks his
approach and disappearance. Although familiar with the use of a bridle,
he despises such a troublesome article of luxury, and guides his horse
with his voice, hands, and feet--nay, it almost seems as if he directed it
by the mere exercise of the will, as we move our feet to the right or left,
backward or forward, without its ever coming into our head to regulate
our movements by a leather strap.
"In this manner for hours he chases the flying herd, until at length he
succeeds in approaching the animal which he is bent on catching. He
then swings his whip round in immense circles, and throws the cord
with such dexterity and precision that it twines around the neck of his
victim. The leaden button at the end, and the knots along the cord, form
a noose, which draws closer and tighter the faster the horse hastens on.
"See how he flies along with outstretched legs, his mane whistling in
the wind, his eye darting fire, his mouth covered with foam, and the
dust whirling aloft on all sides! But the noble animal breathes shorter,
his eye grows wild and staring, his nostrils are reddened with blood, the
veins of his neck are distended like cords, his legs refuse longer
service--he sinks exhausted and powerless, a picture of death. But at the
same instant the pursuing steed likewise stands still and fixed as if
turned to stone. An instant, and the Csikos has flung himself off his
horse upon the ground, and inclining his body backward, to keep the
noose tight, he seizes the cord alternately with the right and left hand,
shorter and shorter, drawing himself by it nearer and nearer to the
panting and prostrate animal, till at last coming up to it he flings his
legs across its back. He now begins to slacken the noose gently,
allowing the creature to recover breath: but hardly does the horse feel
this relief, before he leaps up, and darts off again in a wild course, as if

still able to escape from his enemy. But the man is already bone of his
bone and flesh of his flesh; he sits fixed upon his neck as if grown to it,
and makes the horse feel his power at will, by tightening or slackening
the cord. A second time the hunted animal sinks upon the ground; again
he rises, and again breaks down, until at length, overpowered with
exhaustion, he can no longer stir a limb....
"The foot-soldier who has discharged his musket is lost when opposed
to the Csikos. His bayonet, with which he can defend himself against
the Uhlans and Hussars, is here of no use to him; all his practiced
maneuvers and skill are unavailing against the long whip of his enemy,
which drags him to the ground, or beats him to death with his leaden
buttons; nay, even if he had still a charge in his musket, he could
sooner hit a bird on the wing than the Csikos, who, riding round and
round him in wild bounds, dashes with his steed first to