road through pine-woods, and entered Kronstadt at an hour too late to see its beauties, but not too. late to experience the sensation of finding ourselves in a quaint oldfashioned town, most romantically situated. We devoted the following day to exploring its interesting environs, little known to the traveller in search of the picturesque, but well worthy a visit; and so on in two days to Hermanstadt, through primitive villages of Protestant Germans, contrasting curiously with the half-savage professors of the Greek faith we had just left, where all the houses stood with gables fronting the streets, covered with sacred mottoes and texts from the Bible, but in passing through which, in the dead of night, we, notwithstanding, had one of our portmanteaus cut off the back of the carriage by thieves; and finally, way worn and tired, arrived at the comparatively civilised seat of the Transylvanian Government, there to partake of the hospitality of the General commanding the troops, to accompany him on bear-shooting expeditions, in the course of which we spent bright clear nights on the lofty summits of the Carpathians, sleeping round blazing log-fires under the stars, cooking the game we had shot, and feasting upon the same with ravenous appetites. A pleasant jovial time it was, after politics and town life in the Principalities; and though no admirers of Austrian institutions, we found the change to a more stable government not unacceptable. Nevertheless there is as much to be said about politics in Transylvania as in Wallachia, did time and space admit; for the British public, doubtless, know as little of the one as of the other; and since they will persist in settling their own foreign affairs, they ought not to be allowed to remain in ignorance of that phase of them pertaining to these parts. For the present, the fortunes of Prince Couza are of more immediate interest; nor will it be his fault if, sooner or later, he does not appeal to the Roumain population of Transylvania, to support him in creating an empire out of those materials which lie scattered round his frontier. THE CITY or GOLD. LONDON, as every one knows, command of this busy hive of opecontains a city within a city; and rators. Almost every country is within that inner city there is yet included in their operations, and another, the very heart of the me- almost every State is in debt to tropolis. It is a small place. In them. From gigantic Russia to a couple of minutes you may walk petty Ecuador and Venezuela, they across it from side to side, from hold the bonds of every Governend to end. Yet it is the centre ment (those of Persia, China, and and citadel of our greatness-the Japan excepted). Prosaic as their heart whose pulsations are felt to operations are in detail, taken in the farthest extremities of the em- the mass they constitute a grand pire. There is to be found concen- work, and may be followed as a trated the spare capital of the na- noble as well as an honourable protion; and from thence it flows forth fession. Daily and hourly it is as from a fountainhead, in irrigat- their business to scan in detail the ing streams, to extend industry and condition of the world. They increase employment and produce weigh the influence of the seasons, everywhere. There, our traders and they investigate the produce of all producers obtain the loans and manner of harvests-they know the advances by means of which they condition of every mine, the proscarry on their immense business. pects of every railway, the diviThere, lie concentrated the sinews dends of every company. They are of material strength alike in peace ever feeling the pulse of trade, and and in war. The occupants of the watching the course of politics. They precinct have dealings with all the ponder the chances for the maintenworld; and from thence proceeds ance of peace or for the outburst of the power which helps on the civil war; and when war is on foot, they isation of the globe. The railways follow the fluctuations of the conwhich accompany the ceaseless ad- test with as keen an interest as vance of the White race into the either soldier or statesman. Everyprairies of the Far West of Ame- thing concerns them that affects rica the companies which explore the condition of countries or the and develop the resources of Cali- solvency of Governments. The fornia and Australia the iron very spirit and temper of nations, roads and irrigating canals which rebellious or loyal, warlike or inare maturing the prosperity of In- dustrious, is canvassed in that busy dia the enterprise which covers mart. It is no exaggeration to with tea-plantations the valleys say that the progress of mankind and slopes of the Himalayas, and is mirrored in the operations of which carries our countrymen into this monetary metropolis. It is a new regions everywhere—are creat- city of money-dealers-a sanctuary ed or sustained by the ongoings in of Plutus; a place where men this little spot in London. The think only of profits, and yet acwastes of Hudson's Bay-trading complish more good than all our companies for the Nile-the cotton- philanthropists. Blot out that inplanting which is invading Africa -ocean-lines of steam-ships, submarine telegraphs connecting dissevered continents, water-works for Berlin, gas for Bombay-these and a hundred other matters and projects engage the thoughts and employ the capital which is at the VOL. XCVL-NO. DLXXXVII. ner heart of London-paralyse the operations of that busy hive-and the whole world would feel the shock and suffer from the calamity. London is best seen from the top of an omnibus. Hail one of those vehicles as they roll in ceaseless stream along the Strand and 2 B Fleet Street, yield to the solici- stand, a triangular expanse of pave tations of the conductor who with uplifted finger calls out" Bank! Bank !"-and, mounted on the top, proceed eastwards to view the metropolis of Gold. Passing under the shadow of St. Paul's, which towers above you like a splendid mountain of stone, you enter Cheapside, and with slow and halting course your vehicle wends its way through the currents of human life seething and battling in the too narrow street. The din is so great that even the famed Bow Bells, as they ring out from the spire overhead hardly make themselves heard. At length you reach the Mansion House, the civic palace of London, whose festivities are known unto all men, and especially to aldermen, and your omnibus stops on the very threshold of the Golden City. Magnificent buildings rising aloft on all sides show that you have reached a peculiar precinct. A wide open space is before you, which seems, as you look down from your elevated seat, as if paved with the tops of omnibuses, cabs, and vehicles of all kinds, making their way through a black mass of busy humanity. No longer pent up in the defile of Cheapside, the current of busy life here branches out into many channels. To your right it pours down Lombard Street, and towards London Bridge, the entrance to which you see marked by the tall column of the Monument, rising against the blue sky of this sunny day in June. To the left, the current spreads through Princes Street-to or from Lothbury and Moorgate Street, which lie out of sight, hidden by the solid quadrangular mass of the Bank. In front, the busy throng is pouring along the wide channels of Cornhill and Threadneedle Street, leading eastwards from where you stand; and in an island between these two channels rises aloft, like a rocky promontory, the pillared front of the Royal Exchange. Stretching out in front of the Exchange there projects, almost to where you ment-like a spit of sand- over which the wavelets of human life, the spray of the deep currents which roll around, are ceaselessly washing and intercrossing. Watching a favourable moment, dart through the perilous stream of ve hicles and foot-passengers which separates you from that haven of rest, and take your stand (getting the mud brushed from your boots the while by one of the red-coated members of the Shoe Brigade) beside the equestrian statue of the Great Duke. As you look up at the bronze figure of the old warrior you remember his saying, that “High interest means bad security;" you think, too, of the words once placarded all round where you stand, "To stop the Duke, run for Gold !" and you begin to think that, after all, the site of his statue is not so inappropriate as you at first felt it to be. The Royal But circumspice! Exchange, with its high pillared portico, surmounted by an entablature in which symbolic figures are crowded together as densely as the living crowds below-with its wide archways of entrance, and large inner court open to the sky-looks gay, affable, and accessible,-a place of easy and lively resort, savouring (as the Greek style of architecture usually does, whether in palace or in temple) of a sunny, everyday world. As you look across Threadneedle Street, the low, heavy quadrangular structure of the Bank creates a very different impression. It has an imposing look; and the dead wall all round, scantily relieved by short pillars let into the front, almost windowless and doorless, and its entrances watched by red-mantled porters. with grand cocked-hats, bespeak a sombre, jealously-guarded sanctuary. It is the treasure-house of Plutus, the sovereign and deity of the precinct. You feel an awe and sombreness in the façade, very accordant with all our notions of the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street. These two buildings, which far surpass in size any of the surrounding edifices, the whole locality. Princes Street fitly represent respectively, the two and Lombard Street bound it on powers, or agencies, whose conjoint the west and south; Lothbury and action constitutes the life of this Throgmorton Street on the north; busy little world. The Bank repre- while to the east, beyond Birchin sents money- the Exchange repre- Lane and Finch Lane, it gradually sents trade. Generally they act in merges in the region of the proharmony-sometimes, however, in duce-markets and shipping-offices. rivalry; but at all times they deep- Such are the narrow limits of this ly affect one another. A panic on City of Gold, a precinct which 'Change makes a crisis at the Bank rises like an oasis of commercial a crisis at the Bank makes a panic on palaces in the heart of London, 'Change. They are like brother and and in which is concentrated sister. But Money is the stronger: it amount of wealth and power unis the male principle- sombre and rivalled elsewhere in the world. powerful. Trade is the female gay, lively, and various in its forms; but dependent for its fertility upon money, and at times subjected by it to a cruel bondage. You will not be long in the neighbourhood before you find what vast issues are dependent upon the presence of Gold in that gloomy building in Thread needle Street. an The Royal Exchange, with its wide expanse of pavement alike in front and in rear, forms an islet amidst the rushing thoroughfares around; and on these paved open spaces groups may seen standing engaged in absorbing conversation. But all around nothing is to be seen but motion and bustle. The streets are thronged with hurrying vehicles: The mightiness of these two the foot-pavement with bustling powers, which together hold sway but steady-going passengers; the in this little precinct, is evidenced alleys, like Birchin Lane and Finch to the eye by the stateliness of the Lane, which connect the leading capital which they have here built thoroughfares, are equally throngfor themselves. All great phases ed; and hurrying steps are ever of national life find expression in racing through those covered pasarchitecture. The present is pecu- sages, lined with offices on either liarly an age of money and of side, which form a peculiar feature monetary trade; and Banks and in this part of London, and before financial companies adorn this sanc- whose entrances the stranger naturtuary of money-dealers with con- ally halts, fearing to trespass on spicuous edifices. The place looks what seems, and indeed is, private like an acropolis-a civic citadel - ground. Young men and old men a peculiar precinct, where palatial alike are seen hurrying to and fro, edifices, clustering together, rise in and all appear absorbed in their close contact, and in marked con- work. You may easily tell the trast with the ordinary buildings office-clerks, racing on their erof the city. Brick and dinginess rands to learn the latest price of give place to Portland-stone, iron- some particular stock, from the less palisading, and highly-burnished mobile but more absorbed seniors door-panels. Banks, credit-com- of this busy world. Engrossed. panies, discount-houses, insurance- as all are, you nevertheless see (in offices, are yearly raising for them- ordinary times at least) that theirs selves fine premises; and the area is not a sad work. The sight, in of the golden metropolis is gradually extending itself at the expense of the meaner districts which surround it. Stand at the northeast corner of the Royal Exchange, and you are in the centre of the précinct. From that point a radius of three hundred yards will include truth, is rather disappointing to a stranger who has heard of the cares of wealth and the deceitfulness of riches. As he looks upon the men who go past him, the sight does not realize the conception of "City life which he has formed from books or from, his own imaginings. " It is curious to note how the tide of business and population ebbs and flows in this peculiar precinct. The busiest and most crowded place in the world for half-a-dozen hours of the day, it thereafter becomes almost a solitude. Except in Cornhill, where shops have not yet been wholly supplanted by offices, the precinct after sunset relapses into darkness. He looks in vain for the haggard anon you meet with the fresh clear look and care-worn features which complexion, pure white whiskers, he has learnt (very incorrectly) to and brisk look and movement, associate with City men, and espe- which characterise the best specicially with the dealers in money. mens of our elderly English gentle Overburdened, no doubt, some of men. It seems a healthy as well these men are occasionally-and in as exciting pursuit which men_ply what trade or profession is it other in this precinct of Mammon. Even wise? but, on the whole, they the speculators par excellence-men wear a more lively and cheerful who are rich to-day and poor tolook than any other set of business- morrow as a class, live for the men we have seen. They are in bright side of the picture, and look tent on their work; they have no as if they did so. time to stand and parley with you; but they go about their business with liveliness and zest. You never hear the slow monotones of depression; their voices are quick and lively, and a laugh and a bit of badinage are seldom quite absent as they fly about in search of information or in execution of commissions. They dress well, in the substantial style and a gold chain About ten in the mornacross the waistcoat, or a flower in ing, the omnibuses deposit load the button-hole, are their favourite after load of passengers at the corand not very conspicuous modes of ner of Cheapside, opposite the Manpersonal decoration. Sometimes, sion House; while Hansom cabs indeed, you will see the gay-coloured neck-scarf, buttoned surtout, white waistcoat, and light gloves, familiar to you in Pall-Mall and Piccadilly; for even the West-End swell nowadays ventures into the vortex of financial speculation; but he looks a butterfly among the busy throng, and his air (as doubtless he wishes it to be) is quite different from that of the habitues of the precinct. Nothing more conduces to preserve youthfulness than a considerable amount of mental activity. The alertness and vivacity of the mind transfer themselves to the personal appearance. And, despite all the worry and anxieties which these money-dealers and speculators are supposed to, and sometimes do, undergo, they wear better, and keep their youth longer, than the farmers and provincial classes generally, There is no sauntering here; and men of threescore and upwards step out as lightly as men of half their age in provincial places. In truth, it is the elderly gentlemen who show to most advantage in this monetary metropolis; and ever and and private broughams convey to business the grandees of the place. And during the next six or seven hours vehicles of all descriptions ply to and fro the precinct. But between five and six o'clock the daily exodus begins. Bankers, brokers, speculators, clerks, and directors alike, all rush off homeward, out of town it may be, or to distant suburbs; and the Golden City becomes wholly silent, dark, and solitary. In the moonlight, this solitude of palatial edifices looks even more grand and, imposing than by day; but the currents of busy life no longer flow between the towering piles, and the streets seem like riverbeds which have suddenly been left dry. On Sundays, the solitude and apparent desolation are still more conspicuous. Hardly any one live in the precinct save the porters left in charge of the offices. The churches, accordingly, are almost empty. It is only when some highly-gifted preacher is appointed to the locality that the pews become filled-a rare occurrence-by persons drawn from other parts of |