After climbing the hill above Nazareth, Mrs. Carman returned with the dragoman to the camp; and the Judge, with the rest of the party, visited the English Protestant Orphanage, beautifully situated on a slope overlooking the town. We went up a hundred stone steps in noble terraces, studded with palm, fig and mulberry trees. The house is quite extensive, and bears the beautifully appropriate inscriptions, "A Father of the fatherless is God in His holy habitation," and "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these ye have done it unto Me."

The halls and rooms were lofty and clean; neatly-dressed children were enjoying their supper of Easter eggs and bread. About one hundred Syrian girls were being trained in religion and domestic virtues, and no better work can be done than this, the preparing these girls for theestablishment of Christian homes in this country.

"Do you know my mother?" asked one of these sweet-faced girls, of the Judge.

"No; where does she live?" he asked.

"Oh, she lives in England," the girl replied; "she pays for my education at this school, so I call her mother."

Very anxious they were to converse in their somewhat scanty English. A number of these girls attend the morning service at the English Church. They wore a modest lace veil over their head and shoulders, while some wore a white mantle. They had pale, olive complexions, calm, pure, classic features, and deep, dark eyes, like those of the Sistine Madonna. It came with a strange thrill to our hearts to hear them sing the Magnificat of the Virgin, so near the spot where those immortal words were first sung—“My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. For He hath regarded the low estate of His handmaiden; for, behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed." Then their sweet, pure voices rose clear and strong, with slightly foreign accent, in that grand old hymn of the ages, the Te Deum, “We praise Thee, O God, we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord."

The sermon was preached by a native clergyman, the text being, "Christ our Passover is slain for us. The anthem for the day was, "Now is Christ risen from the dead and become the first-fruits of them that slept"; and the old English Easter hymn, "Christ the Lord is risen to-day, sons. of men and angels say," rang out clear as a bird's carol in the bright morning air. In that beautiful Easter service in the dear old English tongue, and especially in our quiet meditation on the hilltops above the town, all the sacred past with its hallowed associations seemed to come once more before our mind. The glorious thought of the risen Lord, who had passed forever into the heavens, hallowed with sacred and tender associations this little town of Nazareth.-ED.

CYCLES have rolled since the first Christmas day,

When, from His Father's house the Son came down,

To share our sorrows, take our sins away,
And make Himself for us of no renown.

-Amy Parkinson.

THE KINGDOM OF ROUMANIA.*

BY CARMEN SYLVA

(Queen Elizabeth of Roumania).

ORELL FUSSLIC

PELESCH CASTLE, SUMMER HOME OF
CARMEN SYLVA-QUEEN ELIZA-

BETH OF ROUMANIA.

My first visit to Roumania was a series of surprises. In the town there were some picturesque streets, where all the doorways were encumbered with many-coloured stuffs, old iron, and green and brown pottery. Other quarters resembled a medley of dolls' houses, so singularly small were the dwellings, hidden beneath the trees, those luckless willows which are being more thoroughly despoiled of their branches every year, or the acacias, which fill the whole town with their perfume in the spring. Open to the street were the shops of bakers, shoemakers, blacksmiths, with innumerable wine. shops, where brandy made from plums, called tzuica, was sold

*Abridged from Harper's Weekly.

dingy little places, from the gloomy depths of which looked out men with brigandlike figures, but mild eyes and a melancholy smile. The nearer we approach the river Dimbovitza, which name signifies oak leaf, the more closely packed were the houses, with their projecting balconies and small pierced columns surmounted by carved trefoils, giving them something of a Moorish appearance.

And then the Dimbovitza itself-now reduced to subjection, supplemented by canals, lined with quays, markets, slaughter-houses, schools, hospitals, barracks, and beautiful churches (too beautiful, perhaps, because too new)-was very different in those days, and presented animated scenes on its banks such as would have delighted poets and artists. People bathed in the beautiful mud in pell-mell fashion, the children splashed about with shouts of delight, the water-carriers led their animals into the stream, wading kneedeep themselves as they filled their barrels. And in the deepest part of the ooze you could see huge forms moving about in confusion; grayish bodies with patches bald of hair, looking like hippopotami in the distance, though the massive horns, curving near the nape of the neck, and the black muzzles shining in the sun, proved them to be buffaloes.

As time went on I was to make close acquaintance with this clumsy, sluggish, antediluvian beast, so common in Roumania. The cow yields quantities of rich milk, from which excellent cream is obtained, and of which very white but tasteless butter

NOTE.-The reader of this charming paper will remember that the writer is the Queen of Roumania, the poetess, now, alas, suffering from serious illness, who took the nom de plume of Carmen Sylva in memory of her birthplace, the wood-encircled castle of Mon Repos. The daughter of Hermann, Prince of Wied, and Maria, Princess of Nassau, Carmen Sylva was brought up in a refined and sheltered home. Married on November 15th, 1869, to the lover of her choice, Prince Charles of Hohenzollern, who had been elected ruler of the united principalities of Wallachia and Moldavia in 1866, Princess Elizabeth made the entry into the capital she so graphically describes when she had been a bride but a few days. Since then she was long the very centre and heart alike of the popular and intellectual life of her adopted country, founding clubs for the poor, herself teaching in the schools, translating books into the Roumanian language, gathering about her at court all that is best and noblest in Eastern Europe. During the bloody campaign of 1877 her palace was converted into a hospital, and many a life was saved by her unwearying care.

is made.

For the buffalo to thrive it must be fed on the dried leaves of maize, and have a bed of mud to wallow in. It would die in the summer without marshes, and in winter if it did not have a subterranean retreat and a woollen covering. In the streets of the town, and in the open country, you see numerous buffaloesharnessed, in single file, to countless heavy-laden