By Ms Marie Queen Of Romania

People who are conversant in see rulers of larger lands can little comprehend what it capacity. It ability paintings and nervousness and desire, and nice toiling for small effects. however the box is huge, and, if the center be keen, nice is the paintings. while younger i assumed all of it paintings, uphill paintings; however the passing years introduced one other wisdom, a blessed wisdom, and now i do know. this can be a small nation, a brand new kingdom, however it is a rustic i like. i would like others to like it additionally; for this reason take heed to a number of phrases approximately it. permit me paint a couple of photos, draw a couple of sketches as i've got noticeable them, first with my eyes, then with my center.

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Small bronze statues with curly, tousled heads. Occasionally a torn shirt barely covers them. Occasionally a torn shirt barely covers them, or their arms have been thrust into coats much too large, the sleeves dangling limply over their hands, giving them the appearance of small scarecrows come to life. Never more enchanting are they than when gambolling about as God made them, for all attire a string of bright beads round their necks! These earth-coloured little waifs will run for miles beside one's carriage or horse, begging for coins with extended palms, whining over and over again the same complaint.

On these carts, amidst an indescribable jumble of poles, carpets, tent-covers, pots, pans, and other implements, whole families find place - mothers and children, old grannies and greybeards, little boys and bigger youths, regardless of the unfortunate animals that half succumb beneath the burden. They stop where they can, sometimes where they must - for many places are prohibited, and no one desires to have the thieving rascals too near their home. To me these camps have always been an unending source of interest.

Their only refuges are dug-outs. Here, in company with their dogs, they spend the long summer months. Less unsociable is the shepherd tending his flock in greener pastures. He is less lonely; even when not living with a companion he receives the visits of passers-by - his expression is less grim, his eyes less hard, and the tunes he plays on his flute have a softer note. Here the great-coat is discarded, but the "cioban's" attitude is always the same: be he on bare mountain pinnacles, or on juicy pastures near clear-flowing stream, or on the burning plains of the Dobrudja where for miles around no tree is to be seen, the "cioban" stands, for hours at a time, both hands under his chin, leaning on his staff.

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