stitious, and are also said to be immoderately fond of spirituous liquors, and to this may be partly owing the many wrestling and pugilistic encounters which often lead to fatal results. Almost every peasant wears a very thick ring of silver or iron on the little finger of the right hand, and a fist thus armed inflicts cruel wounds. In the Ziller thal especially, an extraordinary form of combat is known to be common. It is called Haggeln, from the verb häkeln, to hook. It commences by the two combatants pulling with the middle finger crooked; but as they become heated with preliminary skirmishing the encounter becomes as remarkable as it is cruel and unnatural. M. Lewald describes it in the following example:-“ The Zillerthaler has an innate passion for these rude battles. Often in a lonely mountain-path, the fit seizes him, when it announces and relieves itself by a peculiar ringing cry. If the cry be answered from whatever distance, he need only follow the sound to find an antagonist. And answered the cry must be, if it reach the ear of mortal who understands its meaning, so command the laws of honour. My companion related, that one day a handsome lad was on the mountain, in company with an experienced grey-beard, when he heard the cry. He answered it, and his eyes flashed brighter, and the colour deepened on his cheek. He followed the guiding sound, and on turning a projecting rock met his dearest friend, his neighbour, the accepted lover of his sister. Had he been alone it is likely that the haggeler frenzy would, for once, have evaporated innoxiously; but the experienced old rustic haggeler was present, and both youths were ashamed to shrink from the conflict. Laughing they began, and, hooking their fingers, dragged each other hither and thither, whilst the old man looked on, encouraging, observing, stimulating, deciding. Thus they gradually became heated; too violent a blow exasperated one of the friends, who grasped the other, flung him on the ground, and stooped over him. The fallen haggeler, exasperated in his turn, seized his adversary's nose with his teeth and strove to bite it off, the sufferer cried out, but the old man decided that biting off the nose was as lawful as digging out the eyes. The combatant who despaired of his nose took the hint, and with his thumb gouged out the eye of the nose-biter. Both parties had now had enough, and rose bleeding from the ground, the one of the future brothers-in-law noseless, the other one-eyed; whilst the old man, with high gratification, pronounced that the laws of pugilism and of honour were fully satisfied."

Boxing and wrestling matches are not uncommon at festivals. The successful champion in a match transfers the cock's feather worn in his opponent's hat to his own; three feathers mark the champion of a valley or parish, and it not unfrequently happens that the champions of two neighbouring valleys are pitted together. We are, however, pleased to find that these savage pastimes are being put down by the interference of the magistrates.

It cannot, of course, be expected that men who shew no mercy among themselves should be merciful to their beasts. The different communities of Zillerthalers pride themselves in the possession of powerful rams with enormous horns and beard. The rams are pitted against each other for considerable sums of money. If neither ram conquers, the people themselves fight to desperation. A passion for wagers is common to all the Tyrolese, and the possession of an alpine pasture is often decided by one throw of the

dice.

he begins to whirl with his partner. To describe the dancing is scarcely possible. It was a confused mass of whirling, jumping men, each taking his own course, each wanting to storm himself out, each actuated by a blazing flame that must have consumed him had it not found vent. One twirled round like mad, shouting till he was black in the face, and his eyes appeared starting out of his head; another whistled on his finger till it rang again; a third tried his powers of vaulting; a fourth strove to surpass him; and all found room for these exercises and evolutions, none interfering with the others. Amongst them whirled the maidens with crimson faces, on which shone gaiety and enjoyment; and although no dancer kept his arm round his partner amidst the frenzied throng, uproar and seeming confusion, every planet knew the sun round which he was to revolve, the couples re-uniting with marvellous accuracy, whenever they thought fit. . . . At five o'clock this scene of rapturous exhilaration was to end. The assessor of the district tribunal, a little, pale, cracked-voiced man, appeared amongst the dancers, and all was over. The glowing Titans took off their caps, laughed bashfully, and looked down. Our looks petitioned for them; the good-natured assessor drew out his watch, cleared his throat, and said, 'If you will be very orderly you may dance till nine.' A loud shout was the answer, and at the very instant the whirling began again, so that the grave functionary had some difficulty in escaping with a whole skin."

The favourite, because liveliest, dance-tune is vulgarly called Hosen-aggler, (the breeches-shaker,) from the violent commotion produced in those garments by the prodigious leaps and bounds to which it impels the dancers.

The Tyrolese have acquired more celebrity out of their own country for their songs and music than for their dancing. It is said that in the Tyrol a violin or a guitar is to be found in every cottage, and not unfrequently a piano. "Each valley has its own peculiar airs, full of sweetness and melody, similar to those which the Tyrolese minstrels made so popular in England a few years ago, and which were nothing more than the ordinary songs (Jödeln) of the shepherds and dairy-maids on the mountains, which they carol forth with a peculiar intonation of the voice within the throat, making the echoes ring with their wild notes."

A Swedish traveller in the Tyrol, M. Atterborn, describes the Tyrolese singing and singers somewhat in the following terms:-"In the evening we suddenly heard sweet female voices, and a melody that touched us deeply. We followed the sound, and found two young girls singing popular Tyrolese songs at the table d'hôte. We bade them come to us next. They came and sang all they knew, even till midnight. We were highly delighted and thankful for the privilege of hearing these songs in the Tyrol itself, and sung by natives. The peculiar mode of singing them,-that variation and fraction of sounds celebrated all over Germany under the name of to jodeln or johlen, which is held to express a redoubled alternating echo of herdsmen's voices and hunting-horns amidst the mountains, requires such marvellous action of the voice, such springs and falls of tones, as cannot possibly be produced by other throats than such as have had the Alps for their singing school. They are imitated, however, as may be, especially at German universities, where, as is well known, a sort of forester's or hunter's life is always led. Nay, at Jena, the Senatus Academicus was compelled to publish a prohibition, 'more Tyrolensium inconditos clamores edere,' (to utter rude clamours after the Tyrolese fashion,) because it happened that all the windows of a many-storied house, situate in a large market place, and entirely inhabited by students, were for a considerable length of time, seen open from morning till night, and crammed full of shirt-sleeved sons of Minerva, who jodled away all day long in so full a chorus, that business was at a stand, and the whole town remained as if deaf and dumb.

into their singing association. This last we did not see till the following morning, when we had appointed them to come again and repeat their songs. They now sang in addition a ballad upon Hofer and his feats; they stood

before his portrait, and his blithe countenance seemed to listen with pleasure to his name, as it sounded so gratefully on the lips of the daughters of his country. Nature has endowed all three with admirable voices, they have practised singing together, and they give the whole with a force, a warmth, a correct harmony, and a musical judgment that cannot be sufficiently praised. Neat and clean in their dress, they are perfectly modest, and free from all appearance of beggary. They come in only when summoned, drop a modest but slight curtsey at the door, step quickly forward, place themselves in a triangle in the middle of the floor, look only at each other, and instantly begin their songs. When they have sung as much as they can, they at length raise their eyes to the travelling audience, and with simple child-like friendliness and a pretty curtsey, ask whether they have given satisfaction, adding that they can sing no longer. He were a barbarian, who could scantily reward their nightingale-toil. Thereupon they return thanks for what they have received with another curtsey somewhat deeper than the former, and rapidly vanish from one's sight."

THE PASS OF THE MONTE STELVIO.-GALLERIES IN THE WORMSER

LOCH.

SECTION 3.

APPROACH TO THE TYROL FROM BAVARIA. -FROM THE BAVARIAN FRONTIER TO INNSBRÜCK.

A few short, but beautiful descriptions of the entrance into the Tyrol from Bavaria are given in Mr. Beckford's letters, which, though written so far back as the year 1780, are still for the most part true, because, as he says, "they are chiefly filled with delineations of landscape, and those effects of natural phenomena which it is not in the power of revolutions or constitutions to alter or destroy."

"Having refreshed ourselves, we struck into a grove of pines, the tallest and most flourishing we had yet beheld. There seemed no end to these forests, except where little irregular spots of herbage, fed by cattle, intervened. Whenever we gained an eminence it was only to discover more ranges of dark wood, variegated with meadows and glittering streams. White clover and a profusion of sweetscented flowers clothe their banks; above, waves the mountain ash, glowing with scarlet berries: and beyond, rise hills, rocks, and mountains, piled upon one another, and fringed with fir to their topmost acclivities. Perhaps the

Norwegian forests alone equal these in grandeur and extent. Those which cover the Swiss highlands rarely convey such vast ideas. There, the woods climb only halfway up their ascents, which then are circumscribed by snows: here no boundaries are set to their progress, and the mountains from base to summit display rich unbroken masses of vegetation.

As we were surveying this prospect, a thick cloud, fraught with thunder, obscured the horizon, whilst flashes of lightning startled our horses, whose snorts and stampings resounded through the woods. The impending tempests gave additional gloom to the firs, and we travelled several miles almost in total darkness. One moment the clouds began to fleet, and a faint gleam promised serener intervals, but the next was all blackness and terror; presently a deluge of rain poured down upon the valley, and in a short time the torrents, beginning to swell, raged with such violence as to be forded with difficulty. Twilight drew on just as we had passed the most terrible: then ascending a mountain, whose pines and birches rustled with the storin, we saw a little lake below. A deep azure haze veiled its eastern shore, and lowering vapours concealed the cliffs to the south; but, over its western extremities hung a few transparent clouds; the rays of a struggling sunset streamed on the surface of the waters, tinging the brow of a green promontory with tender pinks.

"I could not help fixing myself on the banks of the lake, for several minutes, till this apparition faded away. Looking round, I shuddered at a craggy mountain, clothed with forests, and almost perpendicular, that was absolutely to be surmounted before we could arrive at Walchen-see. No house, not even a shed appearing, we were forced to ascend the peak and penetrate these awful groves. At length, after some perils but no adventure, we saw lights gleam upon the shore of the Walchen Lake, which seemed to direct us to a cottage, where we passed the night, and were soon lulled to sleep by the fall of distant waters.

"The sun rose many hours before me, and when I got up was spangling the surface of the lake, which spreads itself between steeps of wood, crowned by lofty crags and pinnacles. We had an opportunity of contemplating this bold assemblage as we travelled on the banks of the lake, where it forms a bay sheltered by impending forests; the water, tinged by their reflection with a deep ceruleau, calm, and tranquil. Mountains of pine and beech rising above, close every outlet; and no village, or spire, peeping out of the foliage, impress an idea of more than European solitude.

"From the shore of Walchen-see, our road led us straight through arching groves, which the axe seems never to have violated, to the summit of a rock covered with daphnes of various species, and worn by the course of torrents into innumerable craggy forms. Beneath lay extended a chaos of scattered cliffs, with tall pines springing from their crevices, and rapid streams hurrying between their intermingled trunks and branches. As yet, no hut appeared, no mill, no bridge, no trace of human existence.

"After a few hours' journey through the wilderness, we began to discover a wreath of smoke; and presently the cottage from whence it arose, composed of planks and reared on the very brink of a precipice. Piles of cloven fir were dispersed before the entrance, on a little spot of verdure, browsed by goats; near them sat an aged man with hoary whiskers, his white locks tucked under a fur cap. Two or three beautiful children with hair neatly braided, played around him; and a young woman dressed in a short robe and Polish-looking bonnet, peeped out of a wicketwindow.

.

"I was so much struck with the appearance of this sequestered family, that, crossing a rivulet, I clambered up to their cottage and sought some refreshment. Immediately there was a contention amongst the children who should be the first to oblige me. A little black-eyed girl succeeded, and brought me an earthen jug full of milk, with crumbled bread, and a platter of strawberries fresh picked from the bank. I reclined in the midst of my smiling hosts, and spread my repast on the turf: never could I be waited on with more hospitable grace. The only thing I wanted was language to express my gratitude; and it was this deficiency which made me quit them so soon. The old man seemed visibly concerned at my departure; and his children followed me a long way down the rocks, talking in a dialect which passes all understanding, and waving their hands to bid me adieu.

"I had hardly lost sight of them and regained my carriage before we entered a forest of pines, to all appearance

without bounds, of every age and figure; some, feathered to the ground with flourishing branches; others, decayed into shapes like Lapland idols. Even at noonday I thought we should never have found our way out.

"At last, having descended a long avenue, endless perspectives opening on either side, we emerged into a valley bounded by hills, divided into irregular inclosures where many herds were grazing. A rivulet flows along the pastures beneath, and after winding through the village of Walgau loses itself in a narrow pass amongst the cliffs and precipices which rise above the cultivated slopes and frame in this happy pastoral region. All the plain was in sunshine, the sky blue, the heights illuminated, except one rugged peak with spires of rock, shaped not unlike the views I have seen of Sinai, and wrapped like that sacred mount in clouds and darkness. At the base of this tremendous mass lies the village of Mittenwald, surrounded by thickets and banks of verdure, and watered by frequent springs whose sight and murmurs were so reviving in the midst of a sultry day, that we could not think of leaving their vicinity, but remained at Mittenwald the whole evening.

"Our inn had long airy galleries, with pleasant balconies fronting the mountain; in one of which we dined upon trout fresh from the rills, and cherries just culled from the orchards that cover the slopes above. The clouds were dispersing and the topmost peak half visible, before we ended our repast, every moment discovering some inaccessible cliff or summit, shining through the mists and tinged by the sun with pale golden colours. These appearances filled me with such delight and with such a train of romantic associations, that I left the table and ran to an open field beyond the tents and gardens to gaze in solitude and catch the vision before it dissolved away.

"When all was faded and lost in the blue ether, I had time to look around me and notice the mead in which I was standing. Here, clover covered its surface; there, crops of grain; further on, beds of herbs and the sweetest flowers. An amphitheatre of hills and rocks, broken into a variety of glens and precipices, open a course for several clear rivulets, which, after gurgling amidst loose stones and fragments, fall down the steeps, and are concealed and quieted in the herbage of the vale.

"A cottage or two peep out of the woods that hang over the waterfalls; and on the brow of the hills above appears a series of eleven little chapels, uniformly built. I followed the narrow path that leads to them, on the edge of the eminences, and met a troop of beautiful peasants, all of the name of Anna, (for it was St. Anna's day) going to pay their devotions, severally, at these neat white fanes. There were faces that Guercino would not have disdained copying, with braids of hair the softest and most luxuriant 1 ever beheld. Some had wreathed it simply with flowers, others with rolls of thin linen (manufactured in the neighbourhood) and disposed it with a degree of elegance one should not have expected on the cliffs of the Tyrol.

"When got beyond the chapel I began to hear the roar of a cascade in a thick wood of beech and chesnut that clothes the steeps of a wide fissure in the rock. My ear soon guided me to its entrance, which was marked by a shed encompassed with mossy fragments, and almost concealed by bushes of rhododendron in full red bloom. Amongst these I struggled, till reaching a goat-track, it conducted me on the brink of the foaming waters, to the very depths of the cliff whence issues a stream, which dashing impetuously down strikes against a ledge of rocks and sprinkles the impending thicket with dew. Big drops hung on every spray, and glittered on the leaves partially gilt by the rays of the declining sun, whose mellow hues softened the rugged summits and diffused a repose, a divine calm, over this deep retirement, which inclined me to imagine it the extremity of the earth-the portal of some other region of existence, some happy world beyond the dark groves of pine, the caves and awful mountains, where the river takes its source! Impressed with this romantic idea, I hung eagerly over the gulf and fancied I could distinguish a voice bubbling up with the waters; then looked into the abyss and strained my eyes to penetrate its gloom-but all was dark and unfathomable. Awakening from my reverie, I felt the damps of the water chill my forehead; and ran shivering out of the vale to avoid them. A warmer atmosphere that reigned in the meads I had wandered across before, tempted me to remain a good while longer collecting dianthi freaked with beautifully varied colours, and a species of white thyme scented like myrrh. Whilst I was

thus employed, a conrused murmur struck my ear, and on turning towards a cliff backed by the woods from whence the sound seemed to proceed, forth issued a herd of goats, hundreds after hundreds, skipping down the steeps: then followed two shepherd boys gambolling together as they drove their creatures along; soon after the dog made his appearance, hunting a stray heifer which brought up the rear. I followed them with my eyes till lost in the windings of the valley, and heard the tinkling of their bells die gradually away. Now the last blush of crimson left the summit of Sinai, inferior mountains being long since cast in deep blue shade. The village was already hushed when I regained it, and in a few moments I followed its example." Mr. Inglis also, in the summer of 1830, entered Tyrol by way of the great plain of Bavaria, which he describes as being very populous; villages and farm-houses being scattered thickly along the line of road, and he every where observed the evidences of industry and proofs of its reward in the cheerful countenances and respectable appearance of the peasantry.

On entering the Tyrol the scenery became finer and bolder; snow peaks began to appear, and the indications of a high elevation were numerous. At a small mountain village where the traveller halted to breakfast the scenery was still more striking, and an extraordinary number and variety of wild flowers covered the slopes and rocks by the wayside. "I gathered abundance of that beautiful and sweet-smelling flower, the fringed pink; the wild polyanthus; and the rose d'amour; the box shrub in flower formed in many places a thick underwood; large and beautiful heart's-ease entirely covered some fields; and on every knoll and slope, and rocky nook, little companies of summer flowers-unknown to me by sight or name, were nestling,— enjoying sweet fellowship,-nodding to each other, -all silent, but all smiling. I gathered no fewer than thirty-two different species, thirteen of which are cultivated in the English garden."

At Seefeld the road reaches the highest point of the Tyrolean Alps which it traverses; the road now begins to descend abruptly and steeply; at every few hundred yards the traveller becomes sensible of a change, in temperature as well as in the aspect of vegetation; the fir tree is superseded by some other forest trees; and the minute flowers that mark the more elevated regions disappear. At length the magnificent valley of the Inn, traversed by its fine river, is seen stretched below, and soon after the pedestrian enters Zirl, the first town of the Tyrol.

The dress of the peasantry first excites the attention of the traveller; he sees stockings without feet; hats tapering to the crown, something like Robinson Crusoe's; generally with green silk bands, and green tassels hanging from the crown at one side; the women with enormous white worsted caps, shaped also like sugar-loaves, and with dresses, underneath which there seems to be a hoop; but this appearance is occasioned by no fewer than ten petticoats, without which number, an elderly woman is scarcely considered to be respectably attired.

The chief object in the vicinity of Zirl to attract the attention of the traveller is the Martinswand, a gigantic buttress of the Solstein mountain, descending in an abrupt precipice, many hundred feet high, to the margin of the Inn, so as barely to leave space for the high road between it and the river. It owes its chief celebrity to an adventure of the Emperor Maximilian. That enthusiastic sportsman, led away on one occasion in pursuit of a chamois among the rocks above, unfortunately missed his footing, and rolling headlong to the verge of the precipice, was just able to arrest himself, when on the brink of destruction, by clinging with his head downwards to a ledge of rock in a spot where he could neither move up nor down, and where, to all appearance, no one could approach him. He was perceived from below in this perilous position, and as his death was deemed inevitable, prayers were offered up at the foot of the rock by the Abbot of Wilhan as though for a person in articulo mortis. The Emperor, finding his strength failing him, had given himself up for lost, and recommended his soul to Heaven, when a loud halloo near at hand arrested his attention. A bold and intrepid hunter named Zips, who had fled to the mountains to avoid imprisonment for poaching, had, without knowing what had happened, also been drawn to the spot in clambering after a chamois. Surprised to find a human being thus suspended between earth and sky, he uttered the cry which attracted Maximilian's attention. Noticing the perilous nature of the case he was in a few minutes at the Emperor's side, and binding on his feet

his own crampons, and extending to him his sinewy arm, he succeeded with difficulty in guiding him up the face of the precipice along ledges where apparently even the chamois could not have found footing, and thus rescued him from a situation of such hopeless peril that the common people even now attribute his escape to the miraculous interposition of an angel. The spot where this occurred, now hollowed out into a cave in the face of the rock, is marked by a crucifix, which though eighteen feet in height, is so far above the high road that it is scarcely visible from thence. It is now rendered accessible by a steep and rather difficult path, and may be reached in about half an hour's walk from Zirl. The cave is seven hundred and fifty feet above the river, and the precipice is so vertical that a plumb line might be dropped from it into the high road below. It is traditionally stated that Maximilian rewarded the huntsman with the title of Count Hollooer von Hohenfelsen, in token of his gratitude, and in reference to the exclamation uttered by him which had sounded so welcome to the Emperor's ears as announcing that relief was at hand. By the Emperor's pension list, still in existence, it appears that a sum of sixteen florins was annually paid to one Zips of Zirl.

The above incident has been made the subject of a short poem, by Collin, one of Germany's most graceful poets.

Having visited the Martinswand there is nothing in Zirl itself to delay the progress of the traveller; he therefore passes on by the side of the river along the road to Innsbrück. On approaching this town the prospect is superb. "The valley of the Inn, from one to about three miles wide, is seen stretching far to the eastward covered with varied and luxuriant vegetation, thickly studded with houses, and traversed by the broad, rapid, and brimful river: high mountains, mostly clothed with wood, inclose the valley on both sides, and nearly in the centre of it, stands Inspruck, like the monarch of a small but beautiful dominion. The peasants were in the fields, busy with their Indian corn, which is the staple produce of the valley, and all who have seen this beautiful plant growing in luxuriance, and covering a wide expanse, will admit that a more captivating prospect is not easy to be imagined." On crossing the bridge from which the town derives its name, the traveller finds himself in the capital of the Tyrol, which has already been described in the pages of this work*.

SECTION 4.

FROM INNSBRÜCK TO KUfstein.

From Innsbrück, Mr. Inglis proceeded to Hall, passing through fine meadows, fields of Indian corn, and villages charmingly situated in little amphitheatres at the foot of the mountains. Hall is described as being smoky and black, bearing upon its front the appearance of great antiquity. Gloomy old houses flank narrow winding streets; scarcely one modern building is to be seen: the ancient wall, dark towers, and little gates, yet remain, as well as the deep ditch, and recall to mind the wars of early times, of which Hall was so often the scene. One of the gates bears an inscription in which the year 1351 is distinctly visible.

A large government salt-manufactory is situated at this place, and has been in operation ever since the commencement of the fourteenth century. The native salt, at four leagues distance, after being dissolved in water at the mines, is conveyed to Hall, in little rivulets which flow in troughs laid for the purpose, there to be reconverted into crystals. Nine cauldrons are employed, the five largest of them about thirty-six feet in diameter. They are made of iron, and have an opening at one side, by a joint, in order that they may be cleaned out when necessary. The salt water, being previously heated, is admitted into the cauldrons to the depth of eight inches; and is kept boiling during three hours, at the end of which time the solution has sunk about two and a half inches in depth; and a great quantity of salt has been deposited. Each cauldron thus produces from twenty to twenty-four quintals, (from 2000 to 2400 lbs.) so that one cauldron will produce, by the ordinary number of boilings, one hundred and seventy quintals of crystallized salt. The whole manufactory is capable of producing 120,200 lbs of salt per day. The value of the salt thus

See Saturday Magazine, Vol. VIII., pp. 137 to 140, where the

reader will also find a sketch of the glorious struggle between the Tyrol

ese and their French invaders in the year 1809. In the first volume of the Saturday Magazine, p. 39, Mr. Latrobe's Summer Ramble in the Tyrol is noticed, and in Vol. XIV., p. 28, a curious method of fishing in the Tyrol is detailed.

produced is about 100,000%. sterling, and the clear revenue to the government is nearly 80,0007.

A visit to the salt mines conducts the traveller through some striking mountain scenery. After leaving Hall, Mr. Inglis says, "In less than half an hour I found myself at the foot of the chain of mountains that bound the valley to the north, and at the mouth of a narrow ravine, traversed by a furious torrent. A path leads up to the ravine towards the mines, which lie about eight miles further, in the heart of the mountain. I have seldom ascended a steeper path than this; or one more interesting from the sublimity of the scenery that lay around. The grandeur of the views and the ruggedness of the objects in traversing a gorge that penetrates so many miles into the recesses of the mountain may be imagined; and perhaps it is better to leave all to the imagination than to attempt a description. Enormous masses of overhanging rock seemed to be suspended above almost by a miracle; old pine forests hung upon the rugged cliffs; the torrent that rushed by was here and there spanned by bridges of snow, while huge unmelted avalanches lay in its bed; cascades tumbled from a hundred heights, some close by the path, some heard at a great elevation above, while peaks, some dark, some snowy, many thousand feet high, almost closed over head, and seemed to jut into the sky. At length, in the midst of this wild scene, a cluster of houses was seen above, where the gorge loses itself among precipices; and where the torrent has separated into a hundred tiny feeders, oozing from the beds of snow. At this wild spot, stands the miners' inn."

The traveller being clothed in a suitable dress, with a staff in his hand, and preceded by lighted torches, follows the conductor into the mine. "The visit commences with a descent of three hundred steps, when one may fairly believe himself in the bowels of the mountain. 'Tis a strange empire one finds in these dismal abodes: life is a different thing when sunlight is withdrawn; and there is an icy feeling falls upon the heart as well as on the senses when we look around these dismal galleries, and dark walls, dimly lighted by a few ineffectual flambeaux that convey truly the idea of darkness visible;' and scan the dark subterranean lakes, whose extent and profundity the eye cannot guess but by the plunge of a fragment of the roof, and the dim glimmer of the lights; and hear the distant stroke of the miner's axe, far in the interior of the caverns; and still more do we feel the difference between the world above and regions such as these, when we reach the solitary miner, in some vast cavern, with his single candle, striking his axe ever and ever into the dull wall: but along with these feelings, astonishment and admiration are engendered at the power of man, whose perseverance has hollowed out the mountain, and with his seemingly feeble instruments, -his human arms and little axe,-has waged war with the colossal works of nature."

The results of the miner's toil appear almost incredible. No fewer than forty-eight caverns had been formed, each from one to two acres in size; one of the galleries is three leagues in length, and to traverse all the galleries would occupy six days. When these subterraneous caverns are formed, the miners detach fragments of the native salt from the roof and walls; and when the cavern is sufficiently filled with these, pure water is let in, which dissolves the salt, and the solution is conveyed by conduits to Hall as already noticed. "Occasionally a distant sound is heard, approaching nearer and nearer, which one might easily mistake for the rushing of water: this is occasioned by the little chariots, which carry away rubbish to the mouth of the ravine; the path is a railroad, and these little chariots fly along it with frightful rapidity. When the sound is heard approaching, it is necessary to retire into one of the niches that are formed in the wall,- and the young miners, seated in front of the chariots, seem, as they rush by, like gnomes directing their infernal cars.'

,,

The number of miners is about three hundred: the amount of wages is miserably small: they are paid according to seniority, the oldest get thirty kreutzers, and the youngest about half that sum. They work and rest four hours alternately. Sunday is a holiday, and the great feasts of the Catholic church are also observed. "Interesting and curious as a spectacle of this kind is, it is impossible to be restored to the 'common sun and air,' without a feeling of satisfaction; we are almost surprised to find how genial the sunshine is, and how beautiful the sky,-and we drop with cheerfulness a mite into the poor miner's box."

Once more emerging from the dense cloud of smoke that

After a charming walk our traveller reached the bridge bridge which leads across to the right bank of the river on the side of which stand the church and cloister of Volders. The situation of this church is singularly picturesque, but there is nothing remarkable in the cloister. The village of Volders consists of a little straggling street, and does not contain even an inn to tempt the traveller to stay. The town of Schwartz is situated about two leagues and a half further on. This is a respectable old market town, of some importance before the silver mines ceased to be productive. The mountain range that rises behind the town is finely diversified. "I plunged at a venture into one of its valleys, and then climbed its eastern_acclivity, the upper part of which was bathed in gold. But I never reached the gilded line; gradually it rose, as I mounted; and before I had half gained the point I had aimed at, the glorious light of parting day flamed only on the highest summits. The sober grey of evening was around me on the mountain side; and deep twilight had gathered in the valley below. It was time to return to Schwartz, so retracing my steps, I descended the slopes, and in about an hour, I emerged from the mountains, with many pleasant recollections of lights and shadows yet lingering on the vision, of solitude and stillness, and the small mountain sounds that are more akin to silence than noise,-and of all the thousand deep-felt, but inexpressible emotions, that are born among the eternal hills, when evening fills their val

From Schwartz the traveller has an opportunity of visiting the Achen-see, a small lake among the mountains. This is one of those many mountain gems that are seldom visited but by the eagle and the chamois, and whose waters are ruffled only by the mountain breeze, and by the leap of the silent creatures that dwell beneath them. This lake is about four miles long, and about one broad. Its outlet is on the Bavarian side, the little stream that flows out of it crossing the Bavarian frontier at a few leagues from the lake and falling into the Iser. Descending the steeps we again enter the Innthal, and approach Rattenberg, a small old-fashioned town.

The Inn becomes navigable soon after leaving Schwartz; and even from Hall it serves for the transport of light merchandise all the way to Vienna, a distance of at least five hundred miles. Salt is transported in considerable quantities from Hall; fresh butter made at Rattenburg, is sold in the market of Vienna on the fifth morning after it is churned; by the same conveyance chamois is sent to the metropolis, where it bears a very high price; and certain woollen manufactures and knit stockings, the produce of the lower Innthal, form part of the cargo.

The road from Rattenberg to Kufstein presents the traveller with a fine succession of river and mountain scenery. The town of Kufstein lies close to the river, and imme diately under an elevated rock, which is crowned by a little stronghold, and flanked by some batteries. A wild mountain range rises to the south,-and on the northern side towards Bavaria the more cultivated and lower country indicates the course of the river Inn, now a magnificent river.

But we are again approaching the boundaries of the Tyrol. A short journey to the north leads the traveller into Bavaria, and to the south-east into Salzburg. We therefore retrace our steps to Innsbrück, to set out on a fresh excursion, which will reveal more striking features of Tyrolean scenery than have yet been exhibited.