Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1877-07-19
a RoumanIan RaiIway slAtiOn.


A RoumanIan Railway station.
Edward King writes an interest
ing letter from Bucharest to the
Boston Journal. In describing his
railway journey to that city he says;
To the experienced traveller there
frequently comes a feeling of in
tense WEAKNESS at a constant sue
cession of novel and curious sights;
but it would be difficult to grow
weary over the thousand new types
that one sees in these long Rouma-
MAN journeys. Let us stop at a
railway statian, where a gently tink-
ling bell warns the traveller to be
ready the third or fourth time that
it peals forth its melodious chime.
A group of peasant men and women
and bright.eyed, brown-faced little
children huddle at the fence with
long strings of wild cherries in their
hands, and scream at you the price
and the special excellence of their
wares. As the moments decrease,
the clamor rises, whereupon the sta
ton guard, picking up a huge brush
which he always keeps handy, be-
slows harmless blows right and left
until the peasants retreat. Not an
atom Of rage seems to enter the
heart of any one of these simple peo-
pie at being thus rudely pushed
aside. The lamb-like manner in
which they allow themselves to be
pulled about is past all comprehen-
sion for the American mind,
Around a well at. the station a
dozen Roumanian troopers are
gathered, each waiting his turn 70
drink from the huge bucket which
comes up dripping with cool water.
The little maidens who offer Adams
ale in long jugs, or in bits Of potte-
ry rudely stained with cherry or
green colors, find no customers and
look sullenly at the well which
spoils their trade. Near the formi-
dable looking Office which has Com
missary of Police written over it,
and in the door of which a dark
haired young Russian, in a white
tunic, black troWsers and lack boots
Tolls negligently with his hand upon
his sword, stands a little company
of conscripts-young fellows Of all
sizes-some of them SO diminutive
that they seem hardly able to carry
a long gun. A massive Montene-
grin, with huge mustaches, and with
his rich costume full of startling
c%olors, with his girdle filled with
knives and pistols, with his round
red cap shrouded in mourning be-
cause of the downfall of the Seryian
Empire of old, and the triumph of
the Turks fine specimen Monte
negrin, strolls up and down the
platform, the object Of infinite ad.
miration on the part of the Rouma-
Man ladies. The Russian servant,
with his blonde hair cut square
away in the back of his neck, SO
that his head appears to have been
whitfield out of a block-although
he certainly is a thousand removes
from a blockhead--is to be seen
humbly following the footsteps Of
his master. Waiting for the train
master to find them a seat in the
coupe, stand half a dozen Rouma-
MAN beauties, whose languishing
eyes, plump forms, and gracious
manners, are not lost upon their
Sclayic visitors; and chatting with
these ladies, the young Roumanian
officers, holding their hats in their
hands, stand respectfully by. Mean
time a long, lean, cynical-looking
Circassian, whose lengthy blue coat
would give him an almost clerical
appearance in my eyes were it not
for the row of cartridges which he
wears in a species of belt stretched
across his breast, walks solemnly up
and down the platform, and seems
inwardly annoyed that the struggle
has not begun long ago.