cabbages. So you begin to have thoughts of
eggs and poultry, and leap out of your slow-
moving waggon and push on, expecting, if
you are quite a novice, to descry comfortable
looking cottages, and it may be the steeple of
a village church. Whilst you are gazing ahead
in this vain expectation, a slight breeze wafts
a strong odour of smoke around you, and looking
attentively you see a few blue ringlets
coming up from the ground just in fi'ont.
Presently some slight elevations may be
distinguished, scattered over what appears to you
a patch of rough grass land, and now and then
a wild-looking figure rises mysteriously, flits
along a little way, and then drops into the
earth. These are Moldo-Wallachians making
their morning calls. You have stumbled upon
a village or rather upon a human warren.
The houses are mere holes dug in the ground,
with a roof composed of long poles, which are
covered with earth and thatched with the
grass that naturally grows. This style of
living was adopted by the people of these
unfortunate countries for the sake of
concealment from the marauders, to whose
inroads they have always been subject on every
side.

The villages are dug as far as possible from
any line of route ordinarily used. They rarely
contain more than a few hundred inhabitants,
and are subject to a tax, the amount of which
is fixed according to the supposed number of
the houses. For example, a village set down
as containing a hundred dwelling places, has
to pay four hundred piastres. The Ispravnick,
or governor of the district, receives a list of
villages from the treasury, with the sum
required from each affixed, and sends an agent
to inform the people of their liabilities. It
often happens that a village is set down as
containing more or less houses than it really
does. If there is a greater number, that is to
say, if the estimate of the treasury is under
the mark, the peasants collect in a public
meeting to discuss in what proportion each is
to benefit by the mistake. At these meetings
they shout, quarrel, and even fight. But
though wounds and death sometimes occur,
nothing ever transpires before the tribunals.
It is a family quarrel in which no stranger
interferes. When matters are settled the head
man of the village collects the various items
of the tax, and carries the sum to the agent,
who has no call to meddle otherwise in the
matter. But if, as often happens, the village
contains fewer houses than are set down, the
peasants collect and nominate a deputation
entrusted with the duty of representing the
overcharge in the proper quarter. If they
cannot obtain redress they often abandon
their houses or holes, and separate and pass
into neighbouring parishes and districts, leaving
their old dwelling places entirely deserted.
After a little time, of course, taxation pursues
them in their new retreat. In this way the
population remains unsettled, and we never
meet with what in other countries would be
called rising towns. It is calculated that in
the two principalities there are about five
thousand boroughs and villages, most of them
of the character we have just described.
However, on the mountains, the houses are above
ground, and are not disagreeable in appearance
or uncomfortable to live in. Near most
villages may be seen long granaries, if they
may be so called, of peculiar construction.
They are often about three hundred feet in
length, six feet high, and three or four feet
wide, and are made of open trellis work. In
them the maize is thrown, and being dried by
the wind is preserved, when necessary, for
several years. It is, on this account, that the
cargoes of maize from Galatz are seldom or
never injured on the passage, whilst those
from Egypt and other places, being shipped
whilst yet half-dried, often corrupt on the
way.

ACCOMMODATION FOR QUIDNUNCS.

Quid nunc?  "What now?" or, "What's
the news?" is a question that can be answered
more readily by the multitude in provincial
towns than in the Metropolis. About two
years ago we called attention to the fact
that London was in one respect left behind
by Liverpool and other towns:—we had
no Penny News Rooms. Attempts, more or
less vigorous, to supply that want, have since
been made in divers quarters of the town,
and they appear to have succeeded more
or less according to the greater or less
degree of vigour that has been thrown into
their management. The harvest gathered
by each speculator seems to have been
pretty well proportioned to the capital and
labour spent. External signs of prosperity
are, to be sure, very delusive. Yet, setting
up our opinion only upon them (having
watched the growth of London Penny News
Rooms—still infant phenomena not able, it
would seem, to run alone), we are able to
report of them that they are growing in health
and strength.

The first attempt towards the supply of
penny news was made, in an unpretending
way, by some newsvendor, who announced
in his window that the papers might be
read for a penny on his premises. Having
the raw article passing through his hands
in the way of business, it became easy for
him to establish a reading-room in his back
parlour, if he did not believe that the practice
tended to reduce the number of newspaper
buyers, and so damage his trade. Very few
such attempts were made. We know at this
date only of two. They are impromptus
differing from the reading-rooms planned with
deliberation as improvisation differs from
poetry. The first Penny News Room, more
deliberately established, is situated in Cheapside.
So far as the system is concerned, it is not a fair
experiment, inasmuch as it probably was not
established with a view to the profit that would