OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.

MIRIDITE COURTSHIP.

The Miridites were until very lately an unknown people to a vast majority of even well-informed persons in Europe and America. But since their late uprising against the Turks their name has appeared conspicuously in many despatches from the seat of war, and their movements have excited the active interest of the public all over the civilized world. Their close proximity to the Montenegrins, their indomitable courage and love of liberty, and the natural advantages of their country for purposes of defence and for the infliction of damages on Turkish trade with the coast of the Adriatic, all render them dangerous enemies to the Ottoman empire. And, indeed, nothing but their greater hostility to the Montenegrins has prevented their being a more troublesome neighbor to the Turks than the latter have yet found them. Though apparently pacified for the present, they are not likely to forget any grievance, real or imaginary, and they may yet take a very active part in the operations of the hostile forces near their country. A sudden movement on their part might have caused the complete destruction of the Turkish army now overrunning Montenegro.

But it is not only in a political light that these little-known mountaineers are interesting to the outside world. Their habits, character and tones of thought are so essentially peculiar, and so widely different not only from those of fully-civilized countries, but from those existing in the districts immediately adjoining them, that in reading descriptions of this part of Albania our interest is constantly being excited on some new point.

Instead of dressing in rich and gorgeously-colored attire, like the other Albanians, the Miridites wear a conspicuously plain costume. The dress of the men consists of a long white woollen coat, a red belt, white pantaloons, rough hide boots and a white felt cap. The women wear coats like the men, embroidered and fringed aprons, red trousers, and blue handkerchiefs twisted around the head. The dress of the priests seems to us strikingly inappropriate, or at least far removed from our notions of sacerdotal vestments. It consists of a red fez cap, a cloth jacket, and just such baggy blue trousers as are worn by Greek sailors. The Miridites are all Roman Catholics, and are as fanatical and violent in their feelings on the subject of religion as the most ignorant peasants of Galway or the softas of Constantinople. They will allow no Mohammedan to settle in their country, and their hatred of the Greek Church is hardly less pronounced. Yet their religious observances partake of one or two features which are entirely Greek, and would not be authorized by Romish Church dignitaries in any other country. And, in fact, the zeal of these pious mountaineers seems to be tempered with very little knowledge, for they look upon Saint Nicholas, the patron saint of their country and race, as an absolute deity, and are in the habit of praying to Christ to intercede for them with Saint Nicholas.

Another remarkable thing about these people is that they will not, like the other Albanians generally, fight as mercenaries. When they have assisted the Turks in their wars—and they have done so repeatedly and very effectively—it has been as auxiliaries and, as they claim, independent allies. They take pride in tracing their descent from the followers of George Castriote, or Scanderbeg, who was born at Castri in their territory, and their prince, Prenk Bib Doda, confidently asserts that the world-renowned Scanderbeg was his own ancestor. They consider, therefore, that it would disgrace the memory of their heroic forefathers to fight as mere hirelings.

But perhaps the most extraordinary custom of the Miridites is that by means of which they get their wives. When a young man among them contemplates marriage, he first goes to some Mohammedan locality and finds out where the maidens are wont to stay. Then he returns, organizes a party of friends and relatives, and, swooping down on the habitation of the bride-elect, carries her off to his mountain-home and to a state of wedlock. But the most singular part of the whole affair is that, in spite of the appearance of violence, the matter is really devoid of any hostile feeling, and is, in fact, a perfectly amicable arrangement; for the husband afterward hands over to the bride's relatives the price that is considered a bride's equivalent in that part of the world, and both sides remain contented and on intimate and agreeable terms with each other. The idea in giving this semblance of force to a courtship, and literally taking to one's self a wife, seems to be that it is more manly to seize upon the lady than to sue for her. Why Mohammedan women are always selected for capture by these fanatical Christians does not appear. But it is probable that a desire to make proselytes is the chief motive which causes this action. The women taken are not Turkish, but members of Albanian tribes which have become Mohammedan; so it is probable that they, and consequently their children, are looked upon as stray sheep brought back to the fold. As for the Miridite women, they must take their chances of getting husbands among the other Christian tribes of Northern Albania, or else remain virgins all their days, for on no account will the Miridite men marry within the tribe.

W. W. C.

FRIEND ABNER IN THE NORTH-WEST.

Friend Amos: As thee knows I have been here now some little time, thee will trust me to give thee a fair description of the country and the people. The fertility of the land is so widely known that I need not attempt to enlarge upon that to thee. Broad tracts of gently-rolling prairie-land spread over the southern portions of Wisconsin and Minnesota, and vast pine-forests are laid under tribute in the north. The Mississippi River, which flows between the two States, sorely disappointed me. I looked for a broad and mighty mass of water, and I found a stream, here at least, and even for hundreds of miles south, by no means as imposing as our own Delaware. On either side of it rises a continuous range of limestone bluffs, showing, far up their rocky sides, the clear wearing of the ancient water-line. Among these bluffs, stretching back some miles from the river, curl beautiful and fertile valleys, planted in which, and often indeed clinging to the unpromising sides of the ragged bluffs, are the dwellings of the settlers. In the portions longest inhabited rise often pretty, and sometimes even stately, residences, but in the western portions many of the settlers are colonists from Norway and Germany, and, as these are mostly poor, they live more commonly in mere hovels, and stable their stock under masses of straw resting on frames of posts. The long and tedious winters being severe on stock, the farmers devote themselves, in a great degree, to the culture of wheat.

The climate has not the evenness of our own, and the reports I know thee has heard to the contrary are mistaken. The mercury not unfrequently falls to thirty-five and forty degrees below zero in many localities, but the air is dry, and does not try one as much, perhaps, as thee would imagine: the bitter winds, however, sweep across these prairies and through and about the valleys until it verily seems, Friend Amos, that the unaccustomed limbs must freeze. The people, however, are not easily terrified, but heap on their fires such quantities of wood as seemed to me extravagant (for wood is abundant here, but coal dear), and pass the winters cheerfully. I have noticed that affections of the lungs are rarer here than in our climate, and that the most of those so afflicted brought their diseases with them from the East.

I was surprised to find that the body of the people are by no means either ignorant or uncultivated, and have even been shown official statistics to prove that in the fundamentals at least—reading and writing—the percentage of ignorance is nearly one-third smaller than that of Pennsylvania. There is less of higher culture, it is true, and the most respected and respectable citizens are often heard lapsing into strange inaccuracies of language and pronunciation. One of the most common is the use of "dooz" where "does" is meant. "I be" and "you be" are common instead of "I am" and "you are." In some localities along the Mississippi River "slough" is pronounced as if it were "slew." These are, of course, only laxities, and not the result of ignorance. Though learning commands much respect, persons of high education are comparatively rare, but shrewdness and general capacity, together with the will to work and the ambition to succeed, are more universal than with us. I have been pleased to observe that "gentlemen of leisure" and moneyed young men without employment are almost totally lacking. The greater number of the business-men, particularly of the most enterprising and energetic, are quite young. The most remarkable circumstance concerning them is the fact that many of them come to the West with wholly insufficient, and sometimes even no, capital, and open business, relying largely on their adroitness in "kiting," as it is called, which is practically buying on long time and selling on short credit or for cash, trusting to quick returns to meet liabilities. In a few cases this practice is in the end successful, because circumstances favor, but with the large majority of such failure of course is only a question of time. It is to me astonishing to what an extent this experiment is carried. Let me relate to thee a case which came to my personal knowledge. This was of a buyer of wheat in a country town. It seems that it is the custom of the large commission-merchants of Chicago and Milwaukee to receive from country buyers consignments of produce for disposal, on which they make advances. This person had secured, by the aid of a friend, a credit of a few hundred dollars at a certain country store, and proceeded to buy produce from the farmers, paying in orders on the store. When he had sufficient he shipped a car to the Eastern market, making at the same time a draft on the consignee against the bill of lading. This he assigned to the keeper of the store, and drew orders against it for more produce. I was informed that he had, a short time ago, in a busy season, purchased and shipped during one single week fifty thousand bushels of wheat, and all without a dollar of capital he could call his own. I am assured, Amos, that thee will be as much astonished as thy friend was to learn that such things are regularly done by these wonderful people. These things account quite easily for the constant ebbing and flowing of the tide of business-men in these little "cities."

Society, in the newer sections, is evidently unsettled. Money of course commands respect, as money does everywhere; intelligence, in at least reasonable measure, and some little cultivation, are regarded as essentials among the better class of associates; but while the mixture is settling, and the constituents separating and crystallizing, many wandering atoms seem to be at home nowhere. Family or blood is but little regarded, occupation is no hinderance ordinarily, and even well-known irregularities do not necessarily exclude. One of the earliest cautions I received was never to allude slightingly to divorced people in public, "For who knows but there may be several such among the company?" Among the ladies, accomplishments, except dancing, are said to be somewhat neglected, although in all the arts of pleasing and in the graces of domestic life they are peculiarly happy.

Trusting now, Friend Amos, that thee may learn to appreciate as I have the excellencies of this country and these people, and to realize how greatly in reality they surpass our estimates, I will tell thee no more till I see thee in person. Though I very much admire the people, and wonder at their methods and their progress, I long to free myself from all this bustle and strain and rest in peace at home.

In brotherly love, yours truly,

Abner.

HOW SHALL WE CALL THE BIRDS?

Birds are the most effective aids to the farmer and the florist in checking the increase of noxious insects that destroy the fruits of labor. A single pair will destroy hundreds of worms, grubs, moths or beetles in a single day; and when they are present in sufficient numbers no insect or creeping thing escapes their sharp little eyes or their exceeding quickness of motion. As they multiply rapidly, there is no reason why every one of our fruit trees, every shrub and vine, should not have its nest of birdlings. This would be the solution of the dreadful curculio question, I believe. Heretofore, we have built fences around our orchards and enclosed fowls in them. This at one time was supposed to be very effective, but a hundred chickens to the square rod are not so effective as a pair of birds nesting in each tree, from the simple fact that the former can only catch the insects that drop to the ground. After we have shaken the curculio beetles off, to be sure the chickens will devour them readily, but then the pest has generally done its work. It is not unusual to have every plum, apricot, nectarine or apple on a tree stung in a single day; and in South Jersey the curculio has proved victorious in the struggle with man. Every year we see these trees white with blossoms, and as regularly every specimen of the fruit bearing the plague-spot—a tiny crescent-shaped wound in the cuticle—withering, fading and falling. We painfully gather up this fallen fruit by the bushel, burn it to destroy the grub of the curculio, and, hoping against hope, witness the same disaster the following year.

Now, we can have these much-desired friends, the birds, by the thousand about our farms and gardens and orchards. There are many ways of attracting them and ensuring their return to us every year, but the first step involves a sacrifice: we must destroy, shut up or banish every cat from the premises. Some will find this hard to do. Puss is a very old favorite. Long before the Pharaohs she was petted, and even held sacred. The Egyptian goddess Pacht had the head of a cat. The origin of the veneration of the cat was, it is said, her mice-destroying power. In a famine-visited country like Egypt the preservation of the crops of grain was of prime importance; and the cat—allowed from its sacred character to increase and multiply as cats have the power to do—was no doubt a very effective means to that end. But in this age of progress we can dispense with cats—in the country at least. I have proved by experiment that a half dozen wire-spring mice-traps, kept clean and freshly baited with toasted cheese, are better than as many cats to keep pantries and cupboards free of mice. As for rats, everybody knows that one rat-terrier in a granary is better than an army of cats.

Many people, in their simplicity of soul, have believed that it is possible to have the confidence of birds without banishing the cats, and even that the cat might be so reformed that she would come to respect the rights of the birds. These people generally refer triumphantly to the "Happy Family" of Barnum—a cage containing a bird, a monkey, a cat and several mice, all living together in sleepy amity. But this will not do. The animals of that "family" were kept in such a semi-torpid state by confinement and high living—even if they were not daily dosed, as some declared, with Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup—that they had not spirit enough to exercise their natural passions.

No, puss cannot be reformed; and since there are so many who cannot bring their minds to destroy their favorite cats, nor to shut them up from spring till fall, would it not be well to have cat boarding-houses opened in cities to meet this need? I could name more than one who would patronize such an institution. Our cat, old Navet—so called from her habit of bringing up turnips from the cellar and insisting upon munching them in the library—has been sent some miles away to a friend, who, having several cats already, cannot expect to have birds about the house; but if this resource failed, I should not hesitate long between even Navet and the birds.

I had always known that more birds would nest about places where there were no cats; but as I had always seen some birds in summer about all houses, I did not realize what a wonderful effect would be produced by the total absence of this dreaded foe to birds until I resolved to have no cat about in summer, and banished the last one. From that day the birds began to come nearer and nearer, stay longer each day, and finally, reassured, build their nests in the grapevines, in the orchard trees, in the little evergreens near the house, and in the branches of the raspberries and blackberries. Scores came where formerly there had been but two or three pairs. Two pairs of pretty brown sparrows (Spizella socialis) built nests in a small Chinese honeysuckle on a veranda-pillar not six feet from the front door. These nests were about four and five feet high; and although the veranda, being furnished with rustic chairs and a comfortable Mexican hammock, was almost constantly occupied, yet the birds built their nests and tended their little families as unconcerned, as confident of our protection apparently, as if we had been creatures of their own kind. They would not move from their work when we approached so closely that our faces were only a few inches from the nests. This spring more little houses were made and fastened up in the trees—rude little painted boxes, with a roof and a door in front, the whole set on a small board serving for a doorstep as well as general foundation. The bluebirds were specially delighted with these houses, and took possession almost as fast as they were put up. The catbird, a first cousin of the Southern mocking-bird, is also very fond of the neighborhood of human beings, and many others which I know imperfectly as yet.

Besides building little houses for bluebirds and others, a very effective means of attracting birds generally is a little tray for crumbs, seeds, etc. A piece of board a foot square with an inch-high border to keep the food from blowing off, and fastened upon a tree, will answer every purpose, though it may be improved by a roof. But the wisest device for calling birds about the house—in places where there are no brooks or springs near especially—is a bird-bath. Almost all birds are fond of bathing; and any one who will but take the trouble to fill a shallow dish every day with water, and place it in some shady nook, will be repaid a thousand-fold by the sight of the birds bathing—some flashing the spray in all directions, some dressing their wet plumage in the near branches, some disputing the right to the first plunge.

To those enjoying the luxury of a garden-fountain it is very easy to arrange a very excellent bath of this kind, and it is surprising that so few have thought of it. All that is necessary is to place the edge of a very shallow dish under the drip of the fountain-basin. Half an inch of water is sufficient—small birds will not bathe unless the water is very shallow, and they do not like to get under the spray—or a little platform could be managed in the fountain-basin. For my birds, as a dish placed upon the ground always excites the insolent curiosity and meddling of the turkeys, I have had recourse to another device: a little platform on four posts about three feet high, perforated to admit a wash-basin to the rim. Around three sides of this table I set a dozen supple oak saplings, fastening them by iron staples to the edge of the table, and bringing them all together, wigwam style, over head about three feet above the basin. At the foot of the saplings I planted madeira-vine roots, which will produce an abundance of foliage and blossom after they grow, but not being willing to wait for this, I covered all the saplings separately from ground to peak with evergreens from the woods, and then carpeted the whole floor under the table with various colored mosses. The whole effect of the structure, standing in the shade of the trees, is very pretty and quaint. As the water should be changed every night, the waste poured over the mosses will keep them always in good condition. Of course this basin of water is far too deep for any sort of bird except a wader or a swimmer, and to arrange it exactly right, so that the bathing depth can be uniform, as the heat of the day dries up the water, has not been so easy as one might imagine it would be. The best thing I have found thus far is a circle of board held submerged on one side by a weight and a string, the other side floating. A more perfect thing could doubtless be contrived, and will be by many who like myself love the birds, and have determined to foster their presence in every way for their beneficent services, material and æsthetical.

M. H.

A CHEERING SIGN.

Very pleasant reading is a California item of court-proceedings going to show that a Mongol still stands within the pale of the law upon the soil of the Golden State. A wanton murder of some Chinese at Chico was judicially avenged by the sentencing of two of the Caucasian participants to twenty-five years' imprisonment, and of a third to the nicely-calculated, if not nicely-adjusted, term of twenty-seven years and a half. Had the unhappy victims been whites, or even blacks, the arithmetic of time would probably not have been drawn on, but summary recourse would have been made to such punishment as eternity could furnish. But we must not be too exacting. Let us be grateful that the criminal law has any shield, be it of the thinnest, for the Chinaman.

Very different is the case when the Celestial ox gores the Yankee bull. Indemnity, swift and condign, does what mortal hand can do to heal the hurt. A Chinese court, upon Chinese soil, is not allowed to try a Chinese for an injury done to the Christian stranger within Chinese gates. Treaties imposed by the strong arm reserve practical jurisdiction to our own representatives; and it is the peers of the alleged sufferer, not the peers of the accused, who virtually try the cause. Similar rules obtain in the other Mongolian empire. We all possess, as still quite a fresh sensation, a memory of the account published a few years since of the committing of harikari by a Japanese official of high social standing, at the bidding of a native court, in atonement of an affront offered to an American officer—how the representatives of the United States were formally invited, in full uniform, to witness the bloody self-immolation of the proud but to the law submissive Mongol; how everything went off en règle, from the theatrical preparation of the stage with seat, sword and red carpet to the climax of decapitation of the culprit by his body-servant; and how our representatives in gilt and blue filed out shocked, but vindicated, and satiated with more than the full measure of justice pressed down and running over.

Harikari has not begun, nor is it likely soon to begin, to thin the ranks of our Californian office-holders. Few die, none resign, and absolutely none are got rid of in that way. They have no treaty-courts to make them afraid. Their lives are their own, and we hope may always be. But we trust, also, that they will accord a like privilege to their neighbors from over the way, and cultivate the impression that life may be dear as well to a man with a lemon complexion, oblique eyes and a pig-tail. As an evidence of a dawning disposition to accept this view we may be permitted to hail with satisfaction the disappearance for twenty-seven years and six months of a Californian who declined adopting it.

E. C. B.