The Roumanians have a strange folk-dance called the _Hora_ which is performed by the youth in languishing cadence to the long drawn notes of the bagpipes. This consists of a prelude and a real dance. At first, the dancers advance to the left five steps, stamping the ground and stopping suddenly, after which they repeat the same motions for a few times. Of this M. Lancelot writes: ‘Gradually the mandolins strike in to enliven the solemn strain, and seem desirous to hurry it, emitting two or three sonorous notes, but nothing moves the player of the bagpipes; he perseveres in his indolent rhythm. At last a challenging phrase is thrice repeated; the dancers accompany it by stamping thrice on the ground, and looking back at the girls grouped behind them. The latter hesitate; they look at each other, as if consulting together; then they join hands and form a second circle round the first. Another call, more imperious still, is sounded, they break from each other, and mingle in the round of young men. ‘At this moment the old gypsy opens his keen little eyes, showing his sharp white teeth in a sudden smile, shaking out a shower of joyous, hurried notes over the band, he expresses by means of an agitated harmony the tender thrill that must be passing through all the clasped hands. The _Hora_ proper now begins. It lasts a long time, but retains throughout the character of languor that characterized its commencement. Its monotony is varied, however, by a pretty bit of pantomime. After dancing round with arms extended, the men and their partners turn and face each other in the middle of the circle they have been describing. This circle they reduce by making a few steps forward; then, when their shoulders are almost touching, they bend their heads under their uplifted arms, and look into each other’s eyes. This figure loses something of its effect from the frequency with which it is repeated; and the cold placidity with which the dancers alternately gaze at their right-hand and left-hand neighbors is disappointing, and robs the pantomime of its classic aroma.’ IX Of Oriental flavor are the Armenian folk-dances, which the writer saw many years ago performed by Armenian students to the music of a queer mandolin-like instrument and the rhythmic beats of the drum played by the dancer with his fingers. This drum gives a register of six or seven different tones and adds its peculiar effect to the whole. It seems that most of the Armenian dances are executed by a single dancer, either man or woman, in bent, erect, arched and twisted positions, often standing on a single spot for minutes. Though languorous and weird, they possess a grace of their own.