THAT winter had been a very severe one in Roumania. The Danube froze solid a week before Christmas and remained so for five months. It was as if the blue waters had been suddenly turned into steel. From across the river, from the Dobrudja, on sleighs pulled by long-horned oxen, the Tartars brought barrels of frozen honey, quarters of killed lambs, poultry and game, and returned heavily laden with bags of flour and rolls of sole leather. The whole day long the crack of whips and the curses of .the drivers rent the icy atmosphere. Whatever their destination, the carters were in a hurry to reach human habitation before nightfall- before the dreaded time when packs of wolves came out to prey for food. In cold, clear nights, when even the wind was frozen still, the lugubrious howling of the wolves permitted no sleep. Indoors people spent the night praying for the lives and souls of the travellers. All through the winter there was not one morning but some man or animal was found torn or...