THE QUEEN OF RUMANIA DESCRIBES HER OWN LAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3293, 25 April 1917, Page 59

THE QUEEN OF RUMANIA DESCRIBES HER OWN LAND.

In two articles in The Times the Queen/' \ of Rumania gives some charming glimpsed' ol her adopted land. $ "Rumania is fruitful, of vast plains/* waving corn, deep forpsts, rocky mouny tains and rivers, turbulent in spring, but' sluggish in summer -t torching suns, icyjt winters, and burn. 1:3 summers," sh'6" v writes. "It is a link between East and West. ( $ "Twenty-three years I have now spent' in this country. I have moved amongst the most humble, I have entered theii cottages, asked them questions, taken' \their new-born in, my arms. They ai6i ; poor, they are ignorant, thee© neglected and superstitious) but there ia~ & grand nobility in their race. They are*V frugal and sober; the one great dream!' each man cherishes is to possess thel" ground that he tills and to call it his* own. t '£ Autumn in Rumania.— ' ©S "Autumn is the season in which to visifeV the villages amongst the hills, when thi'j trees are a flaming glory. Many a heartyj} welcome has been given me in them, the j peasants receiving me with flower-filled! hands. Rustic riders gallop out to meet] me, scampering helteivs-kelter on theiiv shaggy little horses, bearing banners of flowering branches, shouting with delights t The bells ring, and gaily-clad women an'dC children flook out of the houses to streirtO flowers before their Queen. The church's, generally stands in the middle of th«jC village; here the Sovereign must leav 1 *; her carriage, and is led to the where_ the priest receives her at the doorX cross in hand. There is no awkwardnessf"f no shyness, neither is there any pushing* or crushing. The Rumanian peasant-, remains dignified; he ,is seldom rowdy MR his joy. Mostly, their expression remains''; serious, and their children stare at v with grave faces and huge, impressive' eyes. M "On a burning summer's day I camfj once to a tiny town almost entirely intf habited by Turks. I distributed moneW amongst the poor and forsaken. Ehccited> women in strange attife called the SuH tana, and wanted to touch me; thejp. fingered my clothes, patted me on the £ back; pne old chucked me under t the chin. They drew m£ with them fronir*hut to hut, from court to court'. Like &}■ swarm of crows they jabbered and fought j. over me, overwhelming me with kind, wishes. m • Homes of Peace.— %■ "It is the old converts and monasteries? jjj of Rumania that have above all guarded t the treasures of the past. From first they attracted me. The monks and nuns knew how to select the,*mos£ enchanting places for their homes of) peace. I have wandered from one to • another discovering many a hidden tresV sure, visiting the richest and the poorestjA those easy of access, and those hidden £ away in mountain valleys. '«f . "Once at dusk, after a"' whole day'j' riding over the mountains, I came quite v suddenly upon a sanctuary, and. half-hidden amongst pines and venef|* able beech trees. On my approach the.' bells began to ring—their clear and" strident voices proclaiming their j°y»> Before I could dismount I was surrounded by a dark swarm of; nuns making humbM' gestures of crossing falling to their knees, and pressing thei|Vforeheads against the stones on ground, catching hold of my hands 6? part of my garment, which they kissedjlT .whilst they cried and murmuredjjC. mumbling many a prayer. . Igj"The mother abbess, a venerable, ing-old woman, whose face was by age, conducted me towards the church door. From time to time she would furtively kiss my shoulder in assort of lowly ecstasy. * The other nun&'< trooped after us lifee a - flock of _ blacks \ plumed birds, their jlark veils waving is) the wind. Within the sanctuary thejj lighted tapers were as swarms of fireflieSK in a dusk-filled forest. The nuns grouped,/ themselves along tha walls, their darfyv dresses becoming one "with the shadows ? so that their faces were rendered almosfl | ethereal by the wavering candle light. Jg The Village Cemeteries.— 'M "Nothing is more touching than the viVJ lage cemeteries; the humbler they are more do, they delight the artist's eye.;] Qften they are placed round the viUagJ] church, but sometimes they lie quieef'l apart. They are not tended and cared] for as 'in tidier lands* M "On a Good Friday morning I was ing through one of these village churchy yards. Each grave was lighted with ft > tiny thin taper. The living had come to V do" honour to the dead. An old woman: > stood quite still beside one of those 1 tapers, but I could perceive no grave air all. All that once had been a tomb had) long since been trodden into the \groundA •Who is buried there?' I asked. 'One of/ my own,' was her answer; 'she was myj ( daughter's little daughter; now she is at) rest.' 'Why is the grave no more to be 1 seen?' was my next inquiry. 'What,' was the resigned reply, 'is the use of keeping j a grave tidy if the priest of the village allows his oxen to graze about amidst the" tombs?' m

The Little Village Churches.— 1 "There are some wonderful' old churches in the country, stately buildings, rich an 4. venerable. I have visited all, inquiring into their history, admiring their per* feet' proportions, examining their costly embroideries, carvings, silver lamps* enamelled crosses, and Bibles bound Ift gold. But none of tho greater bujldingV attracts me so strongly as- the little- vu* lage churches in far away comers. TheyT lie scattered about In quite unlikely places, perched on steep hilltops, hiddeqt in wooded valleys, often reflecting theijfsilhouettes in rivers flowing at their bas£ Tall fir trees, planted Wore their porcnelE mark where they stand. Some are all m wood, warm in colour, like newly-bafcwl

brown bread, their enormous roofs giving them the appearance of giant mushrooms. ■■' ]\iany a time the inhabitants have crowded around me, kissing 1113/ hands, the hem of my dress, falling down to kiss my feet, and more than once have they brought me their children, who made the sign of the Cross before me."

"Walking through a hospital in Bucharest the Queen said : "We had one man very badly wounded in another hospital where I visit. As soon as ho was settled in bed I asked him how he felt. 'Not very grand, your Majesty,' he told me, 'but I don't care so long as you become Empress of all the Rumanians.' Of course you know how they all feel about their brothers in Transylvania. I feel with them, _ for I have become thoroughly Rumanian."