Year: 1878

Some parts of Bulgaria are far from being the Utopia some newspaper core spondents have represented it, (writes the daughter of an English Consul, who travelled all through Turkey), with vines hanging over every cottage-door, and milk and honey flowing in the land. Nothing but long residence and personal 1 experience can enable one to arrive at 8 true estimate of such matters. ..s.

 Though in some parts found the scenery delightful, the prosperity of the inhabitants astonishing, and Moslems and Christians riyalling each other in hospitable kindness to the traveller, some spots were anything but romantic or prosperous, and far from happy-look- ing. Some villages, in particular. I mo- ticed in, the midst of 8 dreary plain, such as the traveller may see on the road from Rodosto to Adrianople, where the soil looks dry and barren, and the pastures grow yellow and parched before their time, and where flying bands of Circas- sian thieves and cut-throats hover about like birds of prey. was once travelling through the country, riding the whole of one day on such bad roads that the mud, often reached up to my horse's knees and the carriage containing my maid and the provisions often came to dead stop, while the rain poured necessarily. The journey appeared interminable, and as darkness crept on and several miles of road still separated us from our pro- jected halting- place, made up my mind to stop a an isolated village for the | night. So traversing fresh pools of mud we entered the hamlet, and were met by the Kodja- -Bashi, poorly -clad, miserable-looking individual, who led our party into his farm-yard. On alight- ing from my horse was ushered into dark, bare, dismal hovel, without win dows, and lighted only by hole in the roof, through which escaped some of the smoke from few dung cakes shoulder | ing in corner. One or two water jars stood near the door, and all earthen pot, serving for all culinary purposes, was placed by the fire, in front of which was spread tattered mat occupied by few three-legged stools. A bundle of unin- viting rags and cushions, the family bedding, was slowed in corner, and in another were seen few pots and pans, | the whole table service of the occu- pants.

 This hovel was attached to similar one opening into it, where heard some 1 hustle going on. I was told that mem | Der of the family who occupied it and was seriously i'll was being removed to a neighbours house. Much annoyed at having caused so much trouble and dis turbance to the unfortunate sufferer, I asked my host why he had not placed me in another cottage. "Wel, gos- | poyer," answered he, with an apologetic gesture, "poor and wretched as my home is, it is the best the village pos sesses. The rest are not fit to kennel your dogs in. As for my daughter, I could not but remove her, as her cries during the night would prevent your sleeping.' I inquired her complaint, and was told that she was in high fever, and suffered from sharp pains all over her body. There was no doctor to at- tend her, nor had shs any medicine but the decoctions prepared for her by the old 6ulkas.

 I visited the poor creature and gave what help could but, being by no means reassured as to the nature of her malady, and unwilling to sleep in the vicinity of an infected room, ordered the carriage to be placed under shed and proposed to pass the night in it. The host, however, on hearing this, told me that it was quite impracticable, as the village dogs were so famished that they would be sure to attack the car riage for the sake of the leather on it. "I have taken the precaution," he added, of removing every part that is liable to be destroyed, but there is no l telling what these animals will do." I then ordered the hamper to be brought in and supper to be prepared; but on sitting down on the floor to partake of it we discovered that our provision of bread was exhausted and learnt that not I Dc Our host explained this by saying, You see, gospoyer, our village is so poor and miserable that we have no drinkable water, and our bulkas have to fetch it from distance of three miles. We have no fuel either, for the village has no forest, and we content ourselves with what you see on the hearth. As for bread, it is luxury we seldom en- joy; miIlet four mixed with water into 8 paste and baked on the ashes is our 4 substitute for it; it does for us, but would not please you"

 In the meantime the women and chill dren had gathered round me in the lit tie room, all looking so poor, fever stricken, and miserable, and casting such looks of eager surprise at the ex- hibition of, eatables before. me, that felt positively sick at heart all my ap- petite left me, and distributing my sup l per among the hungry crowd, I con tented myself with cup of tea, and en- deavored to forget in sleep the misery I had witnessed. I was thankful to get away in the morning, and am happy to say that neither before nor since have I witnessed such poverty and misery as I saw in that village. !, QU1T SHooTNa. The Memphis Ava- la,ache tells this story: The. Captain s company had not seen much service, and one morning the Federal cavalry sur