through the half-open door of which I heard a sound of moaning, which arrested me. I could not find it in my heart to pass on. I pushed the door gently aside, and discovered a grey-haired old man lying comfortlessly on the bed in a state of torpor. I laid him back in a posture in which he could breathe more freely, opened his collar and gave him air, and with the aid of one or two simple means soon brought him back to consciousness. The room was barely furnished; his luggage was a small bundle tied in a handkerchief, his clothes betokened that he belonged to the respectable of the lower class. I was too desirous to converse with a genuine Tirolean peasant to refuse his invitation to sit down by his side. I had soon learnt his tale, which he seemed not a little pleased to find had an interest for a foreigner.

His lot had been that of God's loved and deeply tried ones. In youth he had been called to lose his parents; in later life, the dear wife who had for a season clothed his home again with brightness and hope. In old age he had had a heavier trial still. His only child, the son whom he had reared in the hope that he would have been the staff of his declining years, whom he had brought up in innocence in childhood, and shielded from knowledge of evil in early youth, had gone from him, and he knew not where to find him. The boy had always had a fancy for a roving adventurous life, and it had been his hope to have kept him always near him, free from the contamination of great cities.

I asked if it was not the custom in these parts for young men to go abroad and seek employment where it was more highly paid, and come back and settle on their earnings. But he shook his head proudly. It was so in Switzerland, it was so in some few valleys of Tirol, and the poor Engadeiners supplied all the cities of Europe with confectioners, but his son had no need to tramp the world in search of fortune. But what had made him most anxious was that the night before his son left some wild young men had passed through the village. They were bold and uproarious, and his fear was his boy might have been tempted to join them. He did not know exactly what their game was, but he had an idea they were gathering recruits to join the lawless Garibaldian hordes in their attempts upon the Roman frontier. With their designs he was confident his son had no sympathy. If he had stopped to consider them he would have shrunk from them with horror; and it was his dread that his spirited love of danger and excitement had carried him into a vortex from which he might by-and-by be longing to extricate himself in vain. It was to pray that the lad might be guided aright that he had made this pilgrimage up the Thierberg-no easy journey for one of his years. He had come across hill and valley from a village of which I forget the name, but situated near Sterzing.

'But Sterzing itself is a place of pilgrimage,' I said, glad to turn to account my scanty knowledge of the sacred places of the country. 'Why did you come all this way?'

'Indeed is Sterzing,' he replied, 'a place of benedictions. It is the

spot where Sterzling, our first hermit, lived, and left his name to our town. But this is the spot for those who need penance. There, in that place,' and as I followed the direction of his hand I saw through the low latticed window the lofty elevation of the Thierberg, like a phantom tower enveloped in mist, standing out against the clear sky beyond, and wondered how his palsied limbs had carried him up the steep. 'In that place, in olden time, lived a true penitent. Once it was a lordly castle, and he to whom it belonged was a rich and honoured knight; but on one occasion he forgot bis knightly honour, and with false vows led astray an unthinking maiden of the village. Soon, however, the conviction of his sin came back to him clear as the sun's light, and without an hour's hesitation he put it from him. To the girl he made the best amends he could by first leading her to repentance, then procuring her admission to a neighbouring convent. But for him, from that day the lordly castle became as a hermit's cell, the sound of mirth and revelry and of friendly voices was hushed for ever. The memory of his own name even he would have wiped out, and would have men call him only as they do to the present day, 'der Büsser'-the Penitent. And so many has his example brought to this shrine in a spirit of compunction, that the Church has endowed it with the indulgence of the Portiuncula.'

He was feeling better, and he rose to go. He pressed my hand in acknowledgment of my sympathy, and I assured him of it. It was not a case for more substantial charity; I had gathered from his recital that he had no lack of worldly means. I only strove at parting to kindle a ray of hope. I said after all it might not be so bad as he imagined; his boy had been well brought up, and might perhaps be trusted to keep out of the way of evil. It was thoughtless of him not to seek his father's blessing and consent, to his choice of an adventurous career, but it might be he had feared his opposition, and that he had no unworthy reason for concealing his plans. There was at least as much reason to hope as to despond, and he must look forward to his coming back, true to the instincts of his mountain home, wiser as well as richer than he had set out..... His pale blue eye glistened, and he gasped like one who had seen a vision. Ay! just so! Just so it appeared to me when I was in the Thierberg this morning! And now, in case my weak old heart did not see it clearly enough, God, in His mercy, has sent you to expound the thing more plainly to me. Now I know that I am heard.'

6

Poor old man! In my weak faith I almost shuddered lest the hope so strongly entertained should prove delusive in the end. I may never know the result, but I felt that he was one who took all things at God's hands, and to whom, therefore, nothing could come amiss; and for the present, at all events, I saw that he went down to his house comforted.

I strolled along the street, and, possessed with the type of the Tirolean peasant as I received it from this old man, I conceived a feeling of regard for all whom I met by the way. I thought of them as of men for whom the unseen world is a reality. At home one meets with such now and

then, as one in an hundred, perhaps; but to be transported into a whole country of them was like waking up from a long sleep to find oneself in the age of S. Francis and S. Dominic.

Whatever faults the Tirolese may have to answer for, they will not arise from religion being put out of sight. No village but has its hillside path marked with 'the Way of the Cross'; no bridge but carries the statue of S. John Nepomucene, the martyr of the Confessional; no fountain but bears the image of the local saint, a model of virtue to the place; no lone path unmarked by its way-side chapel, or its crucifix shielded from the weather by a rustic roof; no house but has its outer walls covered with memories of holy things; no room without its sacred prints and its bénitier.

Nor-noble-looking, independent race as they are have they any shrinking from the confession of their opinions. The churches are full of little rude pictures recording scenes in which all the mercies of life are gratefully ascribed to answers to prayer, while many who cannot afford this more elaborate tribute, hang up a tablet with the words Hat geholfen, ('He has helped me ;') or more simply still, aus Dankbarkeit.' Longfellow has written something very true and pretty, which I do not remember well enough to quote, but most will call to mind the verses about leaving landmarks, which a weary brother seeing, may take heart again; and it is incalculable how these good people may stir up one another to faith and hope by such testimonies of their trust in Providence. Sometimes, again, the little tablets record that such an one has undertaken a journey, 'N. N. reiset nach N., pray for him'; and we, who have come so far so easily, smile at the short distance which is thought worthy of this importance. The Gott segne meine Reise- May God bless my journey'seems to come as naturally to them, however, as 'grace before meat' with us. But most of all, their care is displayed in regard to the dear departed. The spot where an accident deprived one of his life is sacred to all. The honourable peasant N. N. was run over here by a heavy wagon;'-'Here was N. N. carried away by the waters of the stream;' with the unfailing adjunct, 'may he rest in peace, let us pray for him;' or sometimes, as if there were no need to address the recommendation to his own neighbours, Stranger! pray for him.'

6

The straggling village on the opposite bank of the Inn is called Zell, though appearing part of Kufstein. It affords the best points for viewing the gloomy old fortress, and itself possesses one or two chapels of some interest. At Kiefersfelden, at a short distance on the Bavarian border, is the so-called Ottokapelle, a Gothic chapel marking the spot where Prince Otho quitted his native soil when called to take possession of the throne of Greece,

Kundl, about an hour from Kufstein, though wretchedly provided with accommodation, is the place to stop at to visit the curious and isolated church of S. Leonhard auf der Wiese, (in the meadow,) in itself well worthy of a visit. In the year 1004 a life-sized stone image of S.

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PART 38.

Leonard was brought by the stream to this spot; 'floating,' the wonderloving people said, but it may well be believed that some rapid swollen torrent had carried the image away in its wild course from some chapel on a higher level. The people not knowing whence it came, reckoned it a miracle, and set it up in the high-way, that all who passed might know of it. It was not long before a no less illustrious wayfarer than the Emperor Henry II. came that way, and seeing the uncovered image set up on high, stopped to inquire its history. When he had heard it, he vowed that if his arms were prosperous in Italy he would on his return build the saint an honourable church. Success indeed attended him in the campaign, and he was crowned Emperor at Pavia; but S. Leonard and his vow were alike forgotten. The year 1012 brought him again into Italy through the Tirol, and passing the spot where he had registered his vow before, his horse, foaming and stamping, refused to pass the image or carry him further. The circumstance reminded him of his promise, and he at once set to work to carry it out worthily. The church was completed within a few years, but an unhappy accident signalized its completion. A young man who had undertaken to place the ornament on the summit was seized with vertigo in the moment of completing his exploit, and losing his balance, was dashed lifeless on to the ground below. His remains were gathered up tenderly by the neighbours, and his skull laid as an offering at the foot of the crucifix on the high altar, where it yet remains. An inscription to the following effect is preserved in the church: A. D. 1019 Præsens ecclesia Sti. Leonhardi a sancto Henrico Imperatore exstructa, et anno 1020 a summo Pontifice Benedicto VIII. consecrata est.' Though there would not seem to be any other record of the Pope having made the journey. S. Kunigunda, consort of Henry II., bore a great affection to the spot, and often visited it.

The image of S. Leonard now in the church bears the date of 1481, and there is no record of when it was substituted for the original. The interior has suffered a great deal during the whitewash period; but some of the original stone carvings are remarkable, particularly the grotesque creatures displayed on the main columns. On one a double-bodied lion is trampling on two dragons; on another a youth stands holding the prophetic roll of the Book of Revelation, and a hideous symbolical figure, with something of the form of a bear, cowers before him, showing a certain resemblance to the sculptures in the chapel-porch of Castle Tirol. Round the high altar are ten pilasters, each setting forth the figure of a saint, and all various. A great deal of the old work was destroyed, however, when it was rebuilt, about the year 1500.

Between S. Leonhard and Ratfeld runs the Auflängerbründl, a watercourse directed by the side of the road through the charity of the townspeople of Rattenberg and Ratfeld, in the year 1424, with the view that no wayfarer might faint by the way for want of a drink of pure and refreshing water.

Rattenberg is a little town of some importance on account of the copper works in the neighbourhood, but not much frequented by visitors. It is curious that the overhanging castle of Rottenburg, though so like in name, has a different derivation, the latter arising from the red earth of the neighbourhood, and the former from an old word Rat, meaning 'richness,' and in old documents it is found spelt Rat in berc-(riches in the mountain.) This was the favoured locality of the holy Nothburga's earthly career. She was

S. Nothburga is eminently characteristic of her country. the poorest of village maidens, and yet attained the highest and most lasting veneration of her people by the simple force of virtue.* She was born in 1280. The child of pious parents, she drank in their good instructions with an instinctive aptitude. Their lessons of pure and Christian manners seemed as it were to crystalize and model themselves in her conduct; she grew up a living picture of holy counsels. She was scarcely seventeen when the lord of Castle Rottenburg, hearing of her perfect life, desired to have her in his household. Her parents, knowing she could have no better protectors when they were no more, than their honoured Knight Henry of Rottenburg and his good wife Gutta, gladly accepted the proposal. In her new sphere Nothburga showed how well grounded was her virtue. It readily adapted itself to her altered position, and she became as faithful and devoted to her employers as she had been loving and obedient to her parents. In time she was advanced to the highest position of trust in the castle, and the greatest delight of her heart was fulfilled when she was nominated to superintend the distribution of alms to the poor. Her prudence enabled her to distinguish between real and feigned need, and while she delighted in ministering to the one, she was firm in resisting the appeals of the other. Her general uprightness won for her the respect of all with whom she had to do, and she was the general favourite of all classes.

Such bright days could not last; the enemy of God's saints looked on with envy, and desired to sift' her 'as wheat.' The knight's son Henry VI. in process of time brought home his bride, Ottilia by name; and according to local custom, the older Knight Henry ceded his authority to the young castellan, living himself in comparative retirement. Ottilia was young

and thoughtless, and haughty to boot, and it was not without a feeling of bitter resentment that she saw both her husband and his parents looked to Nothburga to supply her deficiencies in the management of the household. She resolved to get rid of the faithful servant, and her fury against her was only increased in proportion as she realized that the perfect uprightness of her conduct rendered it impossible to discover any pretext for dismissing her.

For Nothburga it was a life of daily silent martyrdom. There were a thousand mortifications in her mistress's power to inflict, and she lost no * Anna Maria Taigi, the act for whose beatification is now proceeding, also worked out her sanctification in the condition of a servant.