ght. The
country-people come in, sitting in their long waggons, drawn by four
horses abreast, they themselves dressed in cloaks of snow-white
sheepskins, or richly-embroidered white leather coats lined with black
fur. The head-gear too is very comely, and very dissimilar; for there
are flat fur caps--like an exaggerated Glengarry--and peaked hats, and
drum-shaped hats for the girls, while the close-twisted white kerchief
denotes the matron. The Wallack maiden is adorned by her dowry of coins
hanging over head and shoulders, and with braids of plaited black
hair--mingled, I am afraid, with tow, if the truth must be spoken.

Kronstadt is rather a considerable place; the population is stated to be
27,766, composed of Saxons, Szeklers, and Wallacks, who have each their
separate quarter. It is most beautifully situated, quite amongst the
mountains; in fact it is 2000 feet above the sea-level. The Saxon part
of the town is built in the opening of a richly-wooded valley. The
approach from the vale beyond--the Burzenland, of which I have spoken
before--is guarded by a singular isolated rock, a spur of the
mountain-chain. This natural defence is crowned by a fortress, which
forms a very picturesque feature in the landscape. Formerly the town was
completely surrounded by walls, curtained on the hillside, reminding one
of Lucern's "coronal of towers." In the "brave days of old" the
trade-guilds were severally allotted their forts for the defence of the
town--no holiday task for volunteers, as in our "right little, tight
little island."

Though the dangers of the frontier are by no means a thing of the past,
the town walls and the towers are mainly in ruins, overgrown with wild
vines and other luxuriant vegetation. As no guidebook exists to tell one
what one ought to see, and where one ought to go, I had all the pleasure
of poking about and coming upon surprises. I was not aware that the
church at Kronstadt is about the finest specimen of fourteenth-century
Gothic in Transylvania, ranking second only to the Cathedral of Kashau
in Upper Hungary.

My first walk was to the Kapellenburg, a hill which rises abruptly from
the very walls of the town. An hour's climb through a shady zigzag
brought me to the summit. From thence I could see the "seven villages"
which, according to some persons, gave the German name to the province,
Siebenbuergen, "seven towns." The level Burzenland looked almost like a
green lake; beyond it the chain of t