5. Having worn colored hat ribbons, or whistled loudly in the street on a fastday.*

Also the relations of the young men to the fair sex, and the etiquette of dancing and spinning meetings is accurately chalked out for nowhere is village etiquette more strenuously observed than among these Saxon colonists- and there are countless little forms and observances which to neglect or transgress would be as grave as to reverse the respective orders of claret and champagne at a fashionable dinner-party, or for a lady to go to court without plumes. The laws of precedence are here every whit as clearly defined as among our upper ten thousand, and the punctilio of a spinning-room quite as formal as the ordering of her Majesty's drawing-room.

No youth is permitted to enter the spinning-room in his week-day clothes, and the exact distance the men are allowed to approach the spinning-wheel of any girl is in some villages precisely defined by inches. A fine of ten kreutzers (twopence) is attached to the touching of a maiden's breastpin, while stealing a kiss always proves a still more expensive amusement. Dancing usually takes place on Sunday afternoon, either in the village inn, or in the open air in summer at some convenient spot, under a group of old trees, or a rustic shed erected for the purpose; the permission to dance having each time been formally requested of the pastor by the head of the brotherhood. The couples are often settled beforehand by the Altknecht, and it is not allowed for any youth to refuse the hand of the partner assigned to him. However hot be the weather the men must retain their heavy cloth coats during the first round dance, and only when the music strikes up for the second time does the Altknecht give the signal for lightening the costume by laying aside his own coat and permitting the girls to divest themselves of their uncomfortable high stiff caps.

On his marriage each youth ceases to be a member of the Bruderschaft, on leav

• After concluding this article I learn from a current newspaper that the late king of Bavaria, whose tragical death was lately in every mouth, attempted to revive in Munich these German brotherhoods, such as they used to be in the Middle Ages. He constituted himself the head of the confraternity, and chose the costume to be worn by the members on grand occasions.

These medieval figures, with their wide flapping hats, their pilgrim staffs, and cockle shells, were among the most noteworthy figures at the royal funeral.

certain taxes in meat, bread, and wine to the confraternity. In some districts it is usual for the young couple to attend the village dances for a period of six months after their marriage, but more usually dancing ceases altogether with matrimony. In one or two villages there prevails a custom of the married women dancing every fourth year only.

After his marriage a man becomes a member of the Nachbarschaft, or neighborhood. Every village is divided into four neighborhoods, each one governed by a head called the Nachbarvater. This second confraternity is regulated much in the same manner as the Bruderschaft, with the difference that the regulations thereof apply more to the reciprocal assistance which neighbors are bound to render each other in various household and domestic contingencies. Thus a man is only obliged to assist those that belong to his Nachbarschaft in building a house, cleaning out wells, and extinguishing fires. He must also contribute provisions on christening, wedding, or funeral occasions, and lend plates and jugs for the same.

The Nachbarvater must watch over the order and discipline of his quarter, and enforce the regulations issued by the pastor or by the village maire, or Hann, as he is here called. This authority extends even to the interior of each household, and he is bound to report to the pastor the names of those who absent themselves from church. He must fine the men who have neglected to approach the sacrament, as well as the women who have lingered in the churchyard wasting their time in senseless gossip. Children who have been overheard speaking disrespectfully of their parents, couples whose connubial quarrels are audible in the village street, dogs wantonly beaten by their masters, vain young matrons who have exceeded the prescribed number of glittering pins in their headdress, or girls surpassing their proper allowance of ribbon, all come under his jurisdiction, and the Nachbarvater is himself subject to punishment if he neglect to report a culprit, or show himself too lenient in the dictation of punishment.

It is by the rigid observance of many such rules that the Transylvanian Saxons have now become a curious remnant of the Middle Ages — a living anachronism in the nineteenth century; for such as these people wandered forth from the far west to seek a home in a strange land seven centuries ago, such we find them again to-day, like a corpse frozen in a

accuracy. Only the popa has the privilege of wearing a beard, as he alone is privileged to indulge in certain pet vices which it is his mission officially to condemn, and, like the goodly virtue of charity, this beard must often be said to cover a very great multitude of sins.

Of recent years no doubt thanks chiefly to the enlightened efforts of the late Archbishop Schaguna - much has been done to raise the moral standard of the Roumanian clergy in Transylvania, but there remains still much to do before the prevailing coarseness, ignorance, and hypocrisy too often characterizing this class can be removed. At present the average village popa is simply a peasant with a beard, who on week-days goes about his agricultural duties like any other villager, digging his potatoes or going behind the plough; his wife is a simple peasant woman, and his children run about as dirty and dishevelled as any other brats in the village.

A distinguishing quality of the Roumanian race is the touching family affection which mostly unites all relations. Unlike the Saxon, who seeks to limit the number of his offspring, the poor Roumanian, even when plunged in the direst poverty, welcomes each new-born child as another gift of God, while to be a childless wife is regarded as the greatest of misfortunes. Perhaps it is because the Roumanian has himself so few wants, that he feels no anxiety about the future of his children; and therefore the rapid increase of his family occasions him no sort of uneasiness. Having next to no personal property, he is a stranger to the cares which accompany their possession, and the whole programme of his life of admirable simplicity may be thus summed up:

In early infancy the Roumanian babe is more or less treated as a bundle, often slung on its mother's back, packed in a little oval wooden box, and thus carried about wherever she goes; if to work in the field she attaches the box to the branch of a tree, and when sitting at market it may be stowed away on the ground between a basket of eggs and a pair of cackling fowls, or a squeaking sucking-pig. When, after a very few months, the baby outgrows the box and crawls out of its cocoon, it begins to share its parent's food (mostly consisting in maize flour boiled in water or in milk), and soon learns to manage for itself. When it has reached a reasonable age, which in this case means five or six, it is old enough to assist its parents in gaining an honest livelihood,

which, as generally understood by the Roumanians, means helping them to steal wood in the forest. Later on the boy is bound over as swine or cowherd to some Saxon landowner for a period of several years, on quitting whose service after the appointed term, he is entitled to the gift of a calf or pig. Once in possession of a calf the Roumanian lad considers himself a made man for life. He has no ground of his own, but such petty considerations not affecting him, he proceeds to build wherever best suits his purpose. Stone or brick hardly ever enters into the fabrication of his building; the framework is roughly put together of wooden beams, and the walls composed of wattled willow twigs plastered with clay, while the roof is covered with thatch of reeds, or wooden shingles, according as he happens to live nearest to a marsh or a forest.

The inside of a Roumanian's hut is, however, far less miserable-looking than its outward appearance would lead us to suppose. The walls are all hung with a profusion of holy pictures, mostly painted on glass, and the furniture brightly adorned in rough but not inartistic designs - the Roumanian's passion for thus ornamenting all his woodwork leading him to paint even the yoke of his oxen and the handles of his tools.

sus

There is usually a new-born baby swinging in a basket suspended from the rafters, and always a weaving-loom set up at one end of the room. The produce of this loom-gay-looking stuff striped in effective Oriental patterns of blue, scarlet, and white, often with gold or silver threads introduced in the weaving — are pended from ropes, or displayed along the walls. Each village has its own set of colors and patterns, according to its particular costume, and every Roumanian woman spins, dyes, and weaves as a matter of course. In some places you never see a Roumanian woman without her distaff; she even takes it with her on the way to market, and may frequently be seen trudging along the road a distance of several miles twirling the spindle as she goes.

The men do not seem to share this love of labor, but have, on the contrary, much of the Italian lazzarone in their composi tion, not taking to any sort of manual labor unless driven to it by necessity. The life of a shepherd is the only calling which the Roumanian really embraces con amore, and his love for his sheep may truly be likened to the Arab's love of his horse. A real Roumanian shepherd, bred

Whoever buries his dead without placing a coin in the hand of the corpse is regarded as a pagan by the orthodox Roumanian. Nu i de legea noastra ("He is not of our law"), he says of such a one, meaning, "He is not of our religion," and whosoever lives outside the Roumanian religion, be he Christian, pagan, Jew, or Mahommedan, is regarded as unclean, and, consequently, whatever comes in contact with any such individual is unclean likewise.

The Roumanian language has a special word to define this uncleanness spurcat, which somewhat corresponds to the koscher and unkoscher of the Jews. If, for instance, any animal fall into a well of drinking-water, then the well forthwith becomes spurcat, and spurcat likewise whosoever drinks of this water. If it is a large animal, such as a calf or goat, which has fallen in, then the whole water must be baled out, and should this fail to satisfy the conscience of any ultra-orthodox proprietor, then the popa must be called in to read a mass over the spot where perchance a donkey has found a watery grave; but when it is a man who has been drowned there, no further rehabilitation is possible for the unlucky well, which must therefore be filled up and discarded as quite too hopelessly spurcat.

Every orthodox Roumanian household possesses three different classes of cooking and eating utensils: unclean, clean for the meat-days, and the cleanest of all for fast-days. The cleansing of a vessel, which through some accident has become spurcat, is only conceded in the case of very large and expensive articles, such as barrels and tubs, copious ablutions of holy water, besides much scouring, scraping, and rubbing, being resorted to in such cases. All other utensils which do not come under this denomination must be simply thrown away, or at best employed for feeding the domestic animals. The Roumanian who does not strictly observe all these regulations, is himself spurcat, this same measure being applied to all individuals, who are therefore considered to be clean or unclean, according to their

the individual but in his laws, which fail to enforce cleanliness; therefore it is the law which is unclean, legé spurcat, which for the Roumanian is synonymous with un-Christian. For instance, a man who eats horse-flesh, is necessarily a pagan in his eyes.

This recognition of the uncleanness of most of his fellow-creatures is, however, wholly free from either hatred or contempt on the part of the Roumanian. On the contrary, he shows much interest in foreign countries and habits, and when desirous of affirming the high character of any stranger, he says of him that he is a man who keeps his own law, tine la legea lui, spite of which eulogium the Roumanian will refuse to wear the coat, or eat off the plate of this honorable stranger.

The idea so strongly inrooted in the Roumanian mind that they alone are Christians, and that consequently no man can be a Christian without also being a Roumanian, seems to imply that there was a time when the two words were ab solutely identical, and that surrounded for long by pagan nations, with whom they could hold no sort of community, they lacked all knowledge of other existing Christian races.

On the other hand, these people are curiously liberal towards strangers in the matter of religion, allowing each one, whatever be his confession, to enter their churches and receive their sacraments; nor is it allowed for a popa to refuse the administration of a sacrament to whosoever apply to him, be he Catholic, Protestant, Turk, or Jew, provided the applicant submit to receive it in the manner prescribed by the Oriental church.

The position occupied by the Roumanian clergyman towards his flock is such a peculiar one that it deserves a few words of notice. Though his influence over the people is unlimited, it is nowise dependent on his personal character. It is quite superfluous for the popa to present in his person a model of the virtues he is in the habit of describing from the altar, and he may for his part be drunken, dishonest, ignorant, and profligate to his heart's content, without losing one whit of his prestige or spiritual head. His official character is absolutely intangible, and not to be shaken by any private misdemeanor, and the Roumanian proverb which says, Face sice popa dar unce face el, that is, "Do as the popa tells you, but do not act as he does," defines his attitude with perfect

accuracy. Only the popa has the privilege of wearing a beard, as he alone is privileged to indulge in certain pet vices which it is his mission officially to condemn, and, like the goodly virtue of charity, this beard must often be said to cover a very great multitude of sins.

Of recent years no doubt - thanks chiefly to the enlightened efforts of the late Archbishop Schaguna - much has been done to raise the moral standard of the Roumanian clergy in Transylvania, but there remains still much to do before the prevailing coarseness, ignorance, and hypocrisy too often characterizing this class can be removed. At present the average village popa is simply a peasant with a beard, who on week-days goes about his agricultural duties like any other villager, digging his potatoes or going behind the plough; his wife is a simple peasant woman, and his children run about as dirty and dishevelled as any other brats in the village.

A distinguishing quality of the Roumanian race is the touching family affection which mostly unites all relations. Unlike the Saxon, who seeks to limit the number of his offspring, the poor Roumanian, even when plunged in the direst poverty, welcomes each new-born child as another gift of God, while to be a childless wife is regarded as the greatest of misfortunes. Perhaps it is because the Roumanian has himself so few wants, that he feels no anxiety about the future of his children; and therefore the rapid increase of his family occasions him no sort of uneasiness. Having next to no personal property, he is a stranger to the cares which accompany their possession, and the whole programme of his life of admirable simplicity may be thus summed up:

In early infancy the Roumanian babe is more or less treated as a bundle, often slung on its mother's back, packed in a little oval wooden box, and thus carried about wherever she goes; if to work in the field she attaches the box to the branch of a tree, and when sitting at market it may be stowed away on the ground between a basket of eggs and a pair of cackling fowls, or a squeaking sucking-pig. When, after a very few months, the baby outgrows the box and crawls out of its cocoon, it begins to share its parent's food (mostly consisting in maize flour boiled in water or in milk), and soon learns to manage for itself. When it has reached a reasonable age, which in this case means five or six, it is old enough to assist its parents in gaining an honest livelihood,

which, as generally understood by the Roumanians, means helping them to steal wood in the forest. Later on the boy is bound over as swine or cowherd to some Saxon landowner for a period of several years, on quitting whose service after the appointed term, he is entitled to the gift of a calf or pig. Once in possession of a calf the Roumanian lad considers himself a made man for life. He has no ground of his own, but such petty considerations not affecting him, he proceeds to build wherever best suits his purpose. Stone or brick hardly ever enters into the fabrication of his building; the framework is roughly put together of wooden beams, and the walls composed of wattled willow twigs plastered with clay, while the roof is covered with thatch of reeds, or wooden shingles, according as he happens to live nearest to a marsh or a forest.

The inside of a Roumanian's hut is, however, far less miserable-looking than its outward appearance would lead us to suppose. The walls are all hung with a profusion of holy pictures, mostly painted on glass, and the furniture brightly adorned in rough but not inartistic designs - the Roumanian's passion for thus ornamenting all his woodwork leading him to paint even the yoke of his oxen and the handles of his tools.

- are

sus

There is usually a new-born baby swinging in a basket suspended from the rafters, and always a weaving-loom set up at one end of the room. The produce of this loom-gay-looking stuff striped_in effective Oriental patterns of blue, scarlet, and white, often with gold or silver threads introduced in the weavingpended from ropes, or displayed along the walls. Each village has its own set of colors and patterns, according to its particular costume, and every Roumanian woman spins, dyes, and weaves as a matter of course. In some places you never see a Roumanian woman without her distaff; she even takes it with her on the way to market, and may frequently be seen trudging along the road a distance of several miles twirling the spindle as she goes.

The men do not seem to share this love of labor, but have, on the contrary, much of the Italian lazzarone in their composition, not taking to any sort of manual labor unless driven to it by necessity. The life of a shepherd is the only calling which the Roumanian really embraces con amore, and his love for his sheep may truly be likened to the Arab's love of his horse. A real Roumanian shepherd, bred