an interview with the lady superior on the following day. They were all members of the best families of Moldavia, and had been dedicated to the conventual life from their earliest childhood, whether they liked it or not. At the age of five they had been put to school in the convent, and when they reached eighteen had been compelled to take the veil; so that, except when they obtained leave for a month or two to go and see their friends, they had never known any other existence than that which we now saw them leading-had never had any other excitement than that caused by the admission of a new sister, the arrival of relatives or travellers, a dissension among themselves, or a metropolitan visitation. To them the lovely valley at the head of which the convent was situated had been the whole world from their earliest infancy. If they were not so strict as those nuns who retire to convents because they are disgusted with the world, it was because they scarcely knew what the world meant. They were all still artless children, happy, pleased, and natural; there were no downcast eyes or gloomy penitential expression. They were as delighted to see us as children would be with a new toy, and we had not been an hour in their company before we felt thoroughly at home. Unfortunately there was only one of them who could talk a little French; and another, but she was not a lady director, who spoke German, soon appeared the last of the committee, whom we had not yet seen-a beautiful woman, in the prime of womanhood, with the softest eyes, the sweetest smile, the gentlest and at the same time most distinguished manner-a border of pale yellow round her hood, which was coquettishly arranged, and a slight expansion in the skirt of her reddishbrown serge robe, indicated a tendency towards a cap and crinoline, and accounted for the slight delay in her arrival. After we had satisfied the cravings of nature, they

took us out to the upper balconies to look over the convent by moonlight. If the scene had seemed unreal when we first came upon it, the magic panorama upon which we now gazed was still more enchanting. All round us dark woods—at our feet, and half concealed in their recesses, three hundred and fifty little separate cottages, each with its balcony, its shingle roof, its white walls, and its overhanging foliage. Now all the lights were extinguished, and the most profound stillness reigned-not even the barking of a dog was to be heard. Except ourselves, there was not a man within two hours' walk of where four hundred women were sleeping among the trees of their own quiet valley. The moon was at the full, and poured floods of light into every nook and corner-into the courtyard, with its quaint, old, carved wooden balconies-into the long narrow windows of the church, throwing silver rays into its gloomy recesses, doubtless falling softly upon the face of many a sleeping nun, as it did upon the river that gleamed and shimmered in its light under the black shadow of the steep mountain-side. Though the day had been a long and tiring one, and it was now late, we lingered long upon these balconies, walking all round them, and finding, as each corner that we turned disclosed a new picture, fresh inducement to remain. The nuns, amused at our enthusiasm, asked us if we could continue to enjoy the view until it was time for the midnight service; and on our professing our readiness to remain up in spite of our heavy eyelids, they most considerately promised to have prayers half an hour earlier for our especial benefit ; so at half-past eleven the absolute stillness was suddenly broken. First an old nun with a lantern flitted like a black spectre from door to door, and chanted the reveillé at each in a voice loud and harsh enough to wake the soundest sleeper. She looked like an old witch hob

bling silently and rapidly on her rounds, and bursting out periodically with the same nasal refrain, holding her lamp the while high above her head. As we were watching the operations of this old creature, we were startled by a sound resembling the taps of a very powerful and rather musical woodpecker. First shrill and sharp, rising to a high key, then with a dull and muffled sound, tap, tap, tap, came from the quadrangle below us; then a rattle so quick that I imagined it must be somebody playing on a wooden drum. The cadence was wild, but not irregular, and the effect of the roll dying away until it was scarcely audible, and then breaking out at its full strength, was most peculiar. Watching and wondering, the mystery was solved by the appearance of a stately nun stepping out from the dark shadows of the church, and bearing upon her shoulders what seemed in the uncertain light a long white plank. This she poised in a peculiar way, and with a short stick tapped a tune upon it. On the following morning I examined the apparatus, and found the board about twelve feet long, extremely thin and light, and pierced from the centre towards the extremities with a series of holes gradually increasing in size, so that it was really a musical plank, and, in the hands of an experienced player, could be made to convey the idea of a tune; but the chief feature of the performance was the tremendous noise it made. What between the old woman screaming her waking chant, and two nuns walking about the court tapping musical planks, there was no fear of any sleeping sister remaining unaware that her prayer-time had arrived; and, sure enough, a very few minutes elapsed before, from all corners, they came tripping, or rather gliding, like dark ghosts, to the churchdoor. They must sleep in their dress, or else have acquired the art of making a toilette as rapid as that of an under-graduate late for

chapel, so speedily did they obey the summons. It was now time for us to follow. The old woman and the plank were still, and the swelling tones of a sacred chant warned us that the service had commenced. Modestly, and with downcast eyes, did we pass between two motionless rows of fair worshippers, until we reached the place of honour among the elder sisters. Here, in a little carpeted niche, we stood meekly-the only men-and listened to the women's voices repeating in high monotonous key the perpetual refrain. By degrees we acquired courage, and were rewarded for our boldness in looking up by detecting stolen glances shot at us from every quarter. The principal performer of the service was a lovely girl, apparently of eighteen or nineteen, who was standing in a group of young sisters when we came in, and whose turn it seemed to be to officiate, for she slipped out of her corner and donned over her hood a sort of surplice, then advancing to the desk in the middle of the church, she opened the massive ornamented volume before her, and went off at score. I could not have imagined that those ruby lips could have moved with such extraordinary rapidity, that the exquisitely - chiselled nose should prove an organ for conveying the shrillest and most unpleasant sounds at a pace which was quite electrifying. Whenever the moment for a response came, the chorus "cut in " with something "Gospodin," as if the whole thing was being done for a wager. She never paused nor flagged in her harsh nasal rattle of Moldavian prayer, worked up now and then to a shrill invocation, and varied with prostrations, the extinction and lighting of candles, and full choruses. An hour seemed to pass, nevertheless, like a few moments. There was something fascinating in watching these fair devotees managing all their own matters without male interference ; and I could conceive from the scene before me what that might be so

well imagined by Tennyson. Those "Prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans, And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair,"

only needed to be transported to a wild Carpathian valley to realise the poetic fancy.

I should remark, however, that there is one priest in Agapia who officiates at mass, and who is a married man. Notwithstanding the rumour which had got abroad that we were to be present, there was a smaller congregation than I expected; but I was assured that some of the nuns were performing service in another church, and the rest saying their prayers at home. This last I take to be the most common practice; for on subsequent occasions, on dropping incidentally in for service, I have found no audience at all; the officiating nuns make up a little congregation in themselves, as there must be a certain number for the church and a certain number to read in turn. It was one o'clock in the morning before I sought my divan bed, after one of the most novel and interesting day's experiences I ever remember to have passed. Nothing but downright fatigue would have enabled one to sleep with so many quaint sights and sounds dancing before my eyes and ringing in my ears; but our time was short, and there was much to be seen, so we slept as fast as possible, and were up in time for matins at six o'clock. Here we saw a number of new nuns, with some of whom we made acquaintance; but the absence of any common language was a terrible drawback to our intercourse. Never having received an education to fit them for society, they knew no language but Moldavian; and though we applied ourselves to the acquirements of that tongue under their tuition with the utmost diligence, our time was too short to make progress.

After matins, we paid a visit to the lady superior, a dear old lady, who gave us sweetmeats and cigarettes, and kissed our foreheads

when we were presented and when we took leave. She was very anxious that we should prolong our stay for as many weeks as we liked, and was quite hurt when we told her how hurried our visit must necessarily be. Anxious to carry away a memento of the place, we prevailed upon her to give us an old-fashioned daguerreotype of the convent, which was fading rapidly, and which we promised to have photographed in England and send her back. Most unfortunately, some weeks afterwards, the portmantean containing it was cut off the back of our carriage by thieves in the night, and we have proved, to our regret, unavoidably faithless.

We now went on a round of visits, and were delighted with the charming little cottages, each in its own garden, and containing one or two fair occupants, sometimes a young girl quite by herself. The rich ones are waited upon by the needy sisters, but at Veratica, which we afterwards visited, there was a much greater profusion of wealth than here. Some of our friends proposed a picnic for the afternoon, and we started off a merry party of eight or ten, on foot for a romantic rock in the woods, from the summit of which a magnificent view was obtained of the valley and convent. After a regular scramble, we were rewarded for our exertions by finding that our kind hosts had sent on a hamper with sundry delicacies-that hot coffee was prepared, and a brisk fire ready for the emergencies of our repast.

So we chatted and refreshed, and were smoking tranquilly, when, to my astonishment, I observed some of the ladies engaged in dragging dead branches to the base of a lofty pine-tree, and piling them round it. On inquiring the reason of this proceeding, they informed us that it was great fun burning a pine-tree, and assured us, if we had never seen it, that we should enjoy the spectacle. We suggested the possibility of the whole forest

catching fire, but they said they had chosen an isolated tree, and that even if it did run along the hill-side, what would that matterpine-trees were cheap in the Carpathians. So we heaped up branches round the old forest - giant, and doomed him to a splendid but lingering death. Then we threw blazing logs into the dry mass, and the flame leaped crackling up to the highest branches. Our fair companions clapped their hands with delight as the fire roared and darted out angry forks of flame with each fresh gust of wind, and a spiral column of dense smoke burst in jets from the top, and, spreading like a pall over the grave of the dying patriarch, gave notice far and wide of the sacrilege which was being perpetrated.

The term employed in addressing our companions was always Mika (mother); and there was something quaint, considering the age of some of them, in bestowing the appellation. Nevertheless, it was pleasant sometimes to be called "Son," and gave one the impression of having inspired an affectionate interest. From our present elevated position the convent appeared to great advantage. Instead of the gaunt, solitary building usual on such occasions, the large collection of little cottages, prettily distributed and divided by the neatest of fences, clustered round the convent like chickens round a hen. Instead of a barred doorway with a "grille," and a stern "janitress," the fair occupants were free to roam about the valley where they pleased and with whom they pleased. Instead of lugubrious countenances and an air of general mortification in dress and manner, there were laughing, merry faces, and numerous innovations upon strict conventual costume, of which the most serious was crinoline. Only a few weeks before our visit, the Metropolitan had made a tour of inspection, and confiscated every cage" he could lay his hands on. Still there was abundant evidence that some had

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VOL. XCV.-NO. DLXXXIV,

escaped the sweeping measure. Where were there ever such "cells" as the lovely little boudoirs to be found in some of these cottages? Alas! the palmy days of the convents have gone by. Before long there will be a railway - station within two hours' drive of Agapia; and a recent order has been passed prohibiting any religiously-minded young person from being compelled by her parents to take the veil until she is forty-five. This is practically putting an end to the system of convents altogether-as old maids don't exist in the Principalities-happy land!-and widows are extremely rare. The only chance of catching a nun is to get her quite young, when she is a trouble to her family; now they can no longer be turned into religi euses as of old; and as infanticide is not in vogue in these parts, as in China, their prospects are extremely questionable. Under the present system, what between having plenty of visitors from Jassy during the summer, and getting leave to spend a little of the season in the gay capital themselves in winter, they make life pass pleasantly enough. I have more than once met in society at Jassy "recluses" from these establishments, only to be distinguished by their hoods, as they wear silk and crinoline when they are on leave, and doff the hood if they go to the theatre or any evening entertainments. In fact, they hold much the same position in society that the Chanoinesses used to do in France; except that in their case, unlike these latter, matrimony is of course impossible. Perhaps that is no great drawback, seeing that they enjoy all the freedom of married women, without any of the cares and responsibilities.

As the most touching memento we could take from Agapia, we obtained from the nuns enough of the serge they weave and wear themselves to make us a shooting-suit a-piece, and then with heavy hearts swallowed our last meal under the

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same anxious superintendence as ever, and awaited the summons to our vehicles. Although our visit had not been long, we had made many friends, who all assembled to bid us adieu. The form of parting salutation is touching, and when extended along a row of nuns, produces a singular effect. We reverently kissed their hands, and they bent over and kissed our heads. It is easy to conceive how strong was the tempation to linger before this one, to hurry past another-how difficult to collect one's ideas in the confusion of such a moment, for a strict sense of propriety prevented any outward manifestation of partiality. Persons who have never known what it is to have a great many pairs of lips, some fresh and ruddy, others old and wrinkled, pressed in rapid succession upon their foreheads, will be conscious of a sensation of numbness in the scalp at last, arising probably from a conflict of emotions; nor, if the head be bald, will it be possible to prevent its becoming red. But why dwell upon such harrowing details! We found the good will of our fair entertainers extended itself to our equipages. Each carriage was furnished with nine horses belonging to the convent, and three gipsy postilions of wild and uncouth aspect and somewhat ragged attire. Then with loud cries and sharp whip-crackings we dashed out of the convent-yard, and all the bells burst forth with a merry peal, and we frantically waved our hats as we passed by well-known balconies and under the windows of the charming cottage where the dear old Lady Superior stood kissing her hand to us in final adieu. Our gipsy riders and their ragged team did not allow us much time to collect our scattered faculties. They evidently were impressed with a great idea of our importance, and thought that exactly in proportion as we were great ought our movements to be rapid; so we flew down the beds of mountain torrents, between lofty wooded hills, and finally

emerged from the mountains on to the undulating rich country, which stretched away to the plains we had originally traversed. We were bound to Veratica, another convent not so prettily situated, but even more celebrated than the last. On the way we passed several villages and a good deal of land, producing Indian corn, melons, and grain, and towards evening reached our destination, a larger collection of cottages than at Agapia, only placed not in a cul de sac, but on the slope of a hill commanding an extensive prospect over the lowlands of Moldavia, and altogether comparatively in the world. A village almost at the gates of the convent dispelled the delusion of complete isolation and seclusion so striking at Agapia; and when the atmosphere was clear, even the town of Nyamptz was visible in the far distance, to remind us of the busy haunts of men. Here there was no conventual building at all as at Agapia, where a certain small proportion of nuns lived in the convent, properly so called. All the nuns of Veratica lived in their own cottages, of which there were upwards of four hundred. It is true that some of them were ranged in the form of a square, in the centre of which was a church, and which was entered under an archway, but the general aspect of the place reminded me of some of the mission establishments I had seen in India. There were no less than four churches in Veratica for the benefit of six hundred resident nuns, who never seemed to me to attend them; and there was a school for girls, presided over by the prettiest woman in the convent. There was every indication of greater wealth and luxe here than at the establishment we had just left; and we were put up, not in any suite of apartments destined to strangers, but by one of the principal nuns, to whom we had a letter of introduction, and who in the kindest way gave up half her house to us. Nor would it have been possible to conceive anything more perfect and artistic than the