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A TRIP FROM ST. PETERSBURGH TO and desolate wastes is as interesting as The sight of any object upon these dreary

CONSTANTINOPLE.

PASSAGE TO BUCHAREST-TRAVELING POST IN THE PRINCIPALITIES-KHANS-LIFE IN THE MAHALAS OF BUCHAREST-CITY LIFE-A FEAST THE GLORIES OF THE WALLACHIAN BATH.

I

HAVE at last reached Bucharest; the journey from Jassi, over the monotonous plains which separate the two capitals, was more wearying than I can possibly describe. If one could only forget his troubles in slumber during the entire route, it would be a relief; but it would require a Rip Van Winkle sleep to produce insensibility to the jerks and plunges of eight or ten horses, driven at their utmost speed, by postillions whose shouts and cries are enough to wake the dead. I made many efforts to isolate myself in a world of thought, less noisy and disturbed, while sweeping over the dreary sameness of the way; but the hurrahs of the driver, or a frequent ascent of some two or three feet into space, effectually ended my meditations. The only incident which varied the journey was our arrival at the posts where we change horses. Nothing could be more primitive than these same post stations. The cabins consisted only of branches of trees, and the stables were of the same material: the horses were never found in the latter, however, as they had the good sense to prefer the grass of the surrounding plains. Upon reaching the post, two men on horseback drive at full gallop into a herd of thirty or forty grazing animals, which, thus disturbed, are driven in a straight line, like a squadron of cavalry, with loud cries and whip-crackings, toward the waiting vehicle; the necessary number are forthwith attached to it, and as we start off in triumph, the whole remaining troop again betake themselves, neighing and kicking their feet into the air, to their green pastures.

The level and mountainous regions of the Principalities are entirely distinct, and unfortunately for me, with my passion for mountains, the three hundred miles which separate Jassi from Bucharest were entirely through the dead plains; which, notwithstanding the rapidity of the horses, seemed to stretch themselves further and further, as we passed over them. An entire day's journey is frequently unrelieved by a hill or even a tree.

the appearance of a sail at sea; the horizon has all the monotonous sameness of that of the ocean.

It was a repetition of my Russian posting, and you may imagine the weariness with which I was hurried over these distances, nearly as destitute of all signs of animal life as of vegetation and of relieving inequalities of surface. The villages are very few, and entirely unlike any picture your imagination would draw from the word. Here a few miserable hovels, partly underground and built of clay and straw, are dignified with the name of a village, though on account of the pastoral habits of the people, and the uncertain government of the country, it is not unfrequent for whole towns composed of these perishable and valueless structures, to disappear entirely from one spot and rise up in another many miles distant. Indeed, a town or village is no more a fixture to be determined by latitude and longitude in these provinces, than the locality of a flock of birds. itself, is rivaled in the facility with which cities are created here out of the smallest capital. A collection of wooden houses immediately becomes a city; if a few of them are brick or plastered with lime, it is a chief place of the district or perhaps a bishopric.

America,

After my wearying and painful journey, you may imagine my dismay upon arriving at Bucharest, to find that there were absolutely no hotels or even public-houses in the place. There are some vast buildings or caravansaries, designated as the red khan or the yellow khan, in which straw takes the place of furniture; tumbled upon this in picturesque confusion are found Wallachians, Moldavians, Hungarians, Transylvanians, Germans, Albanians, Turks, and Greeks. The scene, with its contrasts and clamors, would afford the very best suggestions for an Ostade or Teniers.

The hospitality of the inhabitants is, however, proverbial; the yellow khan, especially, is a kind of ambush, where any respectable traveler may be seized and carried to some private residence to be made comfortable; the generous-hearted citizens disputing with each other for the possession of the guest. I was fortunately furnished with letters of introduction,

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which immediately procured me an agree- | Two or three white houses with Persian able asylum in the Mahala de la Stella.

The suburbs of Bucharest are distinguished by the name of Mahalas-a number of crooked little streets, quite without the noise and bustle of the city, are terminated by a fence, a wall, or a hedge, behind which are partially concealed rural residences, charmingly situated in the surrounding trees, or overgrown with vines and clematis. A white church, with its assemblage of towers terminating in Indian pagodas, stands at the end of the Mahala de la Stella. It is surrounded with acacias,

while near it is the residence of the bishop.

blinds stand opposite the church. Everybody seemed on the best terms in this miniature world. Two or three times a week I saw from my windows one of the neighboring houses brilliantly illuminated, and servants with lanterns conducting the beauties of the mahala, in their ordinary attire, toward its cheerfully lighted rooms. This kind of enlarged family life was quite charming to me. After a short residence in my new abode, I was so fortunate as to obtain an invitation to one of these social reunions. Several of the matrons of the neighborhood were seated in graceful and

picturesque positions upon the red divan which extended round the apartment, forming a suitable background for the tableau of girls who were present. Their animation seemed a little intimidated upon my entrance, but after a few moments their timidity vanished, and they were quite regardless of my presence. I found that dancing was the chief amusement of the evening, and it was at once proceeded with in the simple style of the country, accompanied with music on the violin and the pipes of Pan. The women of Bucharest are proverbially beautiful, and those of our quarter did not detract from the established reputation of their countrywomen. Some of the names struck me as pretty and melodious. Among them I remember Maritza, Paraskeva, Lianka, Zinka, &c. The graceful national costume, although rapidly falling into disuse, especially with the young people, and indeed never seen in what is called society, was frequently worn on these occasions, slightly modified. On Sundays, also, I was often struck

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YOUNG GIRL OF THE MAHALA DE LA STELLA.

with its picturesque beauty, as I saw the fresh and smiling faces of those whom it adorned, coming forth from the white church in the midst of the flowering acacias. I leave it for your readers to decide if any fashion plate compares with this graceful attire of one of our belles of the Mahala de la Stella.

The apartment which had drawn me into its magic circle was quite simply furnished. The illumination which had struck me as so brilliant, was produced by four large candlesticks reflected in four mirrors of highly polished steel, with the addition of a handsome three-branched lamp. Two young Bohemians soon entered with refreshments; they were brown

as Indians, with their large black eyes set in blue enamel. The national dishes of preserved citron, and a delicate preparation of roses, were served in primitive and national style. Two vases were filled with them, from which each guest helped himself to as much as he wished, with a spoon, which was then passed to his neighbor. The other tray had a large glass bowl, containing the pure water of the Dimhowitza, from which all drank as in the days of the patriarchs. As my turn came, a lady smilingly repeated one of the poetical proverbs of the country, respecting this pretty and beloved river. It is very musical in the original, but the translation must suffice: "Sweet Dimhowitza, who

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drinks of thy waters shall leave thee no more." It must be powerful water indeed if it stops my vagabondizings!

I was much struck with the grace and beauty of many of the Bohemian or gipsy children. Two little figures whom I frequently saw filling their donitzas with water at the fountain, seemed to me to possess all the quiet grace and repose of the antique, as they balanced the weight of their jars with their extended hands clasped together. The Bohemians, or gipsies, are scattered everywhere through the Principalities. I shall give you a

more lengthened account of them in a future letter.

But I must emerge from the charming seclusion of the Mahala, and again "begin at the beginning," like an orthodox traveler, with some information respecting my present resting-place-the "City of Joy," as its inhabitants like to distinguish it.

Bucharest is nearly two hundred miles from the Black Sea, a little more than fifty from the Danube, and three hundred from Jassi. It lies on a vast plain, with a gentle inclination toward the Dimbowitza, which passes directly through the

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