There are none who know Tirol but are forward to express regret that so picturesque and so primitive a country should be as yet, comparatively with other tracks of travel, so little opened up to the dilettante explorer. It is quite true, on the other hand, that just in proportion as a country becomes better known, it loses, little by little, its merit of being primitive and even picturesque. Intercourse with the world beyond the mountains naturally sweeps away the idiosyncracies of the mountaine

.    .    .    .    . Everywhere Fable and Truth have shed, in rivalry, Each her peculiar influence. Fable came, And laughed and sang, arraying Truth in flowers, Like a young child her grandam. Fable came, Earth, sea, and sky reflecting, as she flew, A thousand, thousand colours not their own.— Rogers. ‘Traditions, myths, legends! what is the use of recording and propagating the follies and superstitions of a bygone period, which it is the boast of our modern enlightenment to have cast to the wi

‘Traditions, myths, legends! what is the use of recording and propagating the follies and superstitions of a bygone period, which it is the boast of our modern enlightenment to have cast to the winds?’ Such is the hasty exclamation which allusion to these fantastic matters very frequently elicits. With many they find no favour because they seem to yield no profit; nay, rather to set up a hindrance in the way of progress and culture. Yet, on the other hand, in spite of their seeming foolishness,

Byron ( Manfred ). When, after our forced détour , we next penetrated into Tirol, it was by the way of Kufstein. Ruffled as we had been in the meantime by Bavarian ‘ Rohheit ,’ we were glad to find ourselves again in the hands of the gentle Tirolese. Kufstein, however, is not gentle in appearance. Its vast fortress seems to shed a stifling gloom over the whole place; it looks so hard and selfish and tyrannical, that you long to get away from its influence. Noble hearts from honest Hungary have p

He fancied he saw the venerable old chaplain bowing before the altar, and smiting his breast; he saw the faithful rise from their knees while the glad tidings of the Gospel were announced, and they proclaimed their faith in them in the Creed; he heard them fall on their knees again while the sacred elements were offered on the altar and the solemn words of the consecration pronounced; he saw little Johann, the farrier’s son, bow his head reverently on the steps, and then sound the threefold bell

Lady Charlotte Bury. We had parted from the Zillerthal, and had once more taken our places in the railway carriage at Jenbach for a short stage to reach Kundl, 1 as a base of operations for visiting the Wildschönau, as well as the country on the other side of the Inn. The entry was effected with the haste usual at small stations, where the advent of a traveller, much more of a party of tourists, is an exceptional event. The adjustment of our bags and rugs was greatly facilitated by the assistanc

We have hitherto been occupied almost exclusively with the right bank of the Inn. We will now return to Jenbach, as a starting-point for the beauties of the left bank. Near the station of Jenbach is a ‘ Restauration ,’ which bears the singular title of ‘ zum Tolerantz .’ In the town, which is at some little distance on the Käsbach stream, the ‘Post’ affords very decent accommodation; The dining-room of the more primitive ‘Brau’ is a neat building in the Swiss style, and commands a prospect which

It is time now to return to speak of Schwatz, of which we caught a glimpse across the river as we left Viecht; 1 and it is one of the most interesting towns, and centres of excursions, in Tirol. It was a morning of bright promise which first brought us there by the early hour of 8.15. To achieve this we had had to rise betimes; it was near the end of August, when the mid-day sun is overpowering; yet the early mornings were very cool, and the brisk breezes came charged with a memory of snow from

‘Cast out the ba’ to me, fair maid, Cast out the ba’ to me;’ ‘Never a bit,’ says the Jew’s daughter, ’Till ye come up to me.’ ‘Come up, sweet Hugh! come up, dear Hugh! Come up and get the ba’;’ ‘I winna come, I minna come, Without my bonny boys a’.’ She’s ta’en her to the Jew’s garden, Where the grass grew long and green; She’s pu’d an apple red and white, To wyle the bonny boy in. When bells were rung and mass was sung, And every bairn went home; Then ilka lady had her young son, But Lady Helen

I shall not easily forget my first greeting at Innsbruck. We had come many days’ journey from the north to a rendezvous with friends who had travelled many days’ journey from the south; they were to arrive a week earlier than we, and were accordingly to meet us at the station and do the hosts’ part. But it happened that the station was being rebuilt, and the order of ‘No admittance except on business’ was strictly enforced. The post-office was closed, being ‘after hours,’ and though the man left

Another local tradition of Ambras attaches to a spot where Wallenstein, while a page in the household of Ferdinand and Philippine, fell unharmed from the window of the corridor leading to the dining-hall, making in the terrible moment a secret vow to the Blessed Virgin of his conversion if he escaped with life, which hastened the work begun doubtless by Philippine’s devout example and teaching. There is another, again, more marvellous still, and dated from an earlier period, and shortly before t

Those who wish to visit the legend-homes of Tirol without any great measure of ‘roughing,’ will doubtless find Innsbruck the most convenient base of operations for many excursions of various lengths to places which the pedestrian would take on his onward routes. Those on the north and east, which have been already suggested from Hall and Schwatz, may also be treated thus. It remains to mention those to be found on the west, north-west, and south. But first there is Mühlau, also to the east, reac

Roveredo itself is crowned by a fort—Schloss Junk, or Castel nuovo—which has stood many a siege, originally built by the Venetians; but it is more distinguished by its villas and manufactories. The silk trade was introduced here in 1580, and has continuously added to the prosperity of the place. Gaetano Tacchi established relations with England at the end of the last century, and the four brothers of the same name, who now represent her house, are the richest family in Roveredo. They have a very

The village of Caldonazzo, with its ancient castle, is another ornament of the lake. Further south is the village of Lavarone, or Lafraun, accessible only to the pedestrian. A house close to the edge of a little lake here is pointed out, which in olden time was the residence of two brothers, the owners of the meadow over which the lake is now spread. These two could never agree; their strife grew from day to day, till at last one night they called each other out to settle their quarrels once for

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