mean-looking churches; something in the
Byzantine style, each with two, three, or even
four steeples, in which the eastern traveller
misses the elegance of the minaret. The
bells are not hung in these steeples, but upon
a cross-pole supported by two uprights in
front of the door, so that on church going
days, which frequently occur, a couple of
moustachioed ringers dressed in sheep-skin
may be seen dangling from the rope, and at
a distance may be supposed to be undergoing
the extreme sentence of the law. There
are nearly a hundred churches, but not one
contains anything worthy of description,
except, perhaps, that on the eminence to the
north of the town. It was founded by Saint
Spiridion, bishop of Erivan, in Armenia, and
like all Greek churches, has the form of a
cross. At first sight it resembles a fortress,
and is in fact so built that it could serve for
that purpose. The interior is decorated with
paintings which are no doubt admired— in
Bucharest; and there is a balustrade around
the sanctuary, richly gilt and covered with
mouldings and arabesques, executed with
some taste.

Of late years, especially since the great fire,
there have been built a good many houses,
which are called palaces. At a little distance
they appear not inelegant, being surrounded
by colonnades or fronted with
porticos; yet the pillars are nothing but
lengths of pine trees covered with stucco.
Here and there attempts at a frieze with
plaster-of-Paris bas-reliefs peep out. Within,
there are tolerably fine apartments fitted up
curiously, half in the French and half in the
Eastern style, with arm-chairs and divans,
tables and small carpets to sit upon, books of
caricatures and long pipes. In the same room
may sometimes be seen a lady dressed from
the first shops in the Chausée d'Antin and
her husband, a wealthy Boyard (landed proprietor)
with a long beard, clothed in a
kaftan.

Let us not yet, however, seek the shelter
of a roof. We have something more to say
about the streets, which are of various degrees
of width; sometimes diminishing to mere
alleys and sometimes spreading as broad as
Portland Place. A few are paved roughly
with stones placed, or rather thrown carelessly
upon the ground. It would have been
better had the people of Bucharest stuck to
their wooden pavements, for as it is, their
best streets sometimes resemble the bed of a
mountain torrent. The name for streets
is ponti (bridges); which, when laid with
transverse logs of wood, they really are. But
now at certain seasons they are channels
without bridges. At various places regularly
every spring when the snow melts,
the earth gives way and sinks into great
holes, which the people are compelled to fill
up with straw and faggots. It never seems
to have occurred to any one that a foundation
was required for the paving-stones.

The older streets are still covered with long
beams of wood placed crosswise, under which
water and mud collect undisturbed. They
are not fastened with any pretence of care;
and, when a carriage passes on one side of a
street, it sometimes weighs down the end of a
plank and casts the unfortunate passenger
who may happen to be at the other end
into the air. The people near him begin to
laugh; but, when the plank goes down,
a splash of black mud covers them from
head to foot and changes their merriment
into rage and disgust. In winter, a depth of
three or four feet of snow paves the street.
It is rapidly trod into a hard mass, mixed
with stones and dirt. Then they appear clean
and smooth and the sledges go whirling to and
fro. But spring comes on and when the thaw
commences, neither horse nor man can
proceed. Hundreds of galley-slaves are turned
out, under task-masters armed with whips,
to clear away the snow which rapidly degenerates
into mud. Instead of removing
it outside the town they pile it against the
walls of the houses, which are therefore in
some places half concealed by heaps of dirt,
consisting of the sediment which has been
left after the snow has melted. The streets
are converted then into so many slimy
kennels.

The bazaars of Bucharest are not interesting
or well supplied. A few shops of semi-European
appearance contain articles of
French manufacture, but they are flanked by
stalls in the native style; that is to say, recesses
with great shutters that open upwards
to form a projecting roof during the day-time.
As usual, in the East, each trade has a little
street to itself. There is, for example, the
street of the Leipsikani or traders from
Leipsic; the street of the money-changers;
the street of the fiddlers, and above all the
street of the Kofetars or sweetmeat-dealers.
In some quarters the streets are bordered
by lofty wooden palings, behind which the
huts are concealed. It is here that strangers
go to see the dances of the Zigans in perfection.

But we must not forget the Po-de
Mogochoya. This is the principal promenade
of Bucharest. It crosses the town nearly
from one end to the other, with a mean
breadth of thirty feet. Here in the afternoon,
or rather in the evening— for the hour
becomes more fashionable as it grows later—
may be seen a very curious spectacle. The
Boyards are out to take the air; every one
in his carriage, his droski, his sledge, or his
tandem. They do not move gently along, but
take that opportunity to show the mettle of
their horses. It seems to be one of their objects
to drive all pedestrians out of the street:
as for their accommodation no foot pavement
exists. The ground is almost always
covered with mud and pools of water. About
four o'clock some impatient Wallachian dandy
comes dashing down. Immediately quiet