Bucarest, or Bucuresci, ‘the city of joy,’ as it is called by the Roumanians, is a large, irregular, straggling city of about 175,000 inhabitants, situated on a dirty little stream called the Dambovitza (as already stated, a tributary of the Ardges), concerning which some very famous verses have been written, proclaiming its waters to be so sweet that any one who drinks of them never desires to leave Bucarest.  What its retentive properties may have been in former times we are not able to say, but we can quite imagine any person who ventures to drink of the water being incapable of leaving the city for ever afterwards.  However, the prosaic authorities are not greatly impressed by their national poetry in this instance.  The river is being ‘canalised,’ or confined within stone embankments, and there is a plentiful supply of apa dulce from another source, which exercises no controlling influence whatever upon the movements of the drinker.  The greatest length of the city as the crow flies is about 3-1/10 miles, and its greatest breadth somewhat less, but many of the outlying parts resemble country roads rather than streets.  Viewed from a distance, or from the hill upon which the metropolitan church stands, it has a most picturesque appearance, consisting of a vast number of churches, chiefly Byzantine, only a few of which are visible in our photograph, and many good-sized buildings.  But what gives a peculiar charm to the city is that all these buildings appear to be placed in one vast garden, for there is hardly a single one without some trees in its immediate vicinity, and many of the larger houses really stand in gardens of considerable extent.  This, too, is the cause of the city covering so large a space in proportion to the number of its inhabitants.  It is built with perplexing irregularity, as will be seen even from our superficial plan, where only the main streets are given; but the intermediate spaces are filled with narrow, crooked, and ill-paved streets and lanes, their most disagreeable feature being that, in consequence of the soft yielding nature of the subsoil, the pavement gives way, and soon becomes inconveniently undulating.  There are, however, several broad well-paved streets,[28] the chief being the Podu Mogosoi, as it is still called, although after the fall of Plevna it received the more dignified appellation of the Strada Victoriei; it runs through the centre of the city from an incipient boulevard—­which promises one of these days to metamorphose the whole place—­to a park or garden of considerable extent, where it is further continued through an alley of trees known as the Chaussee.  This is the favourite drive of the Bucaresters, and at stated hours a rapid succession of vehicles pours out from various parts of the city to see and to be seen.  These birjas, as the little open carriages (resembling a small caleche) are called, contain the moat motley assemblage of sight-seers—­ambassadors, state officials,