case all has gone well; if disaster has befallen them, and a cow has been lost or killed, the floral decorations are omitted, but there is some sort of a mutual insurance among the owners, by which the community make good the losses of individuals. Now, the cows are out; one sees them, far and wide, feeding upon the green slopes, and we give many a thought, as we notice the scattered huts, so remote from all human habitations, to the lonely life of those who inhabit them. Wonderful sunrises they must see, and moonlight nights, there among the high Alps, and the great picture gallery of Nature must offer to them what kings cannot buy. And yet, after all, I doubt if it gives them even a taste of that strange happiness in such scenes, that passionate affection for them which seems to require the highest culture and the most thorough refinement to be brought to its perfection. Nearly akin to the life of the herdsman is that of the chamois hunter, except that the latter are out at all seasons of the year. Chamois-hunting must surely be the most difficult of all the branches of "the noble art of venerie." To climb these precipitous heights is no trifle, but also to pursue this shyest of game is a task requiring endless labor, and patience, and ingenuity. For example, the day must be still, but of a sudden, after a hunter has had his eye on a herd for hours, and crept stealthily nearer and nearer till he turns the corner of the rock which is to bring him within range, puff! a little breeze rushes up a chasm, and carries word to these delicately-organized creatures that an enemy is near, and they are off like a flash over a sharp ledge, gone from sight, vanished into infinite space. On the other hand, let the hunter be lucky and kill one, they often weigh forty pounds,--a burden on level ground, but a frightful weight to carry down places like these. The chamois is an antelope, the only one in Europe. Their common weight when full-grown will be at least forty, and the largest of them are even as heavy as seventyfive or eighty pounds. In summer, they are of a yellow-brown, growing darker in autumn and becoming quite black in winter, although here and there in a herd one will be almost yellow. The face is always lighter than the rest of the body, and a black line runs from the eye to the corner of the mouth. The eyes are large, dark, and very shy. The ears are pointed. The horns at largest will be seven or eight inches in height. They rise from the head just above and between the eyes, they slant forward at a right angle with the forehead, and their sharp points are bent over backwards. The horn is hollow part way up, then solid to the tip. The coat of hair is soft next the skin, but the outer hair is long and coarse, and every hair is tipped with white, and a tuft of this makes the gemsbart, a favorite ornament of the Tyrolese hunter's hat. The chamois feed on mountain herbs and the young sprouts of shrubs. They detest sheep and will never go near them, but often feed among the cattle. They are insanely inquisitive. A hunter will lie down behind a rock, turn back his coat sleeve to show his white wristband, then putting his hand out move it gently and continuously to and fro. If there is a chamois within seeing distance of this wonderful phenomenon, he will come to investigate it, and probably meet his fate. The young are as frolicsome as kittens, and the older ones are sometimes exceedingly antic. A solitary chamois will be seen sometimes going through the most extraordinary gymnastics quite for his own amusement. A hunter watched one for hours racing in a circle round and round, then turning and resuming the same career, sometimes pausing to jump, then lowering his head and charg ing full tilt at some imaginary foe. The slightest noise will occasion a herd to stop feeding and stare, till one, sharpest-eyed of all, discovers whence came the sound. He gives a shrill whistle, and they all fly. They do not run, but bound, the hinds legs being longest, and the hoof cloven and pointed. They are awkward in walking upon level ground, but the strength and elastic force of their hind legs is immense, and they can stand all four feet close together. Their skin is very tongh, and cannot be broken by any blow or bruise, so in case one should miss his footing a fall of some hundred feet or so would, like enough, do him no great harm. In the winter, the chamois-hunter is glad to take refuge in the empty huts of the herdsmen for a night's sleep. These, but | Hohenstanfens." When the unfortunate boy more especially the herds women, have a care was beheaded at Naples, whither he had for his welfare. Each maid leaves her hut gone to claim his paternal inheritance, and in good order, clean and ready for the visi- where he had been captured instead, his tor. There are matches and firing, the mother had collected an immense sum inbrown pans and wooden bowls are in the tending it for his ransom. Failing in this, cellar, the shutters are closed and fastened she gave it, following the custom of those on the inside, the door is only latched, and ages, to the Lord; and with the aid of her the hunter makes it a point of honor to leave husband, who had been a very loving stepall in equally good order when he goes. The father to the dead prince, she commenced name of the herdswoman is put up inside, so the foundation of this monastery. In 1273, her winter guest knows to whom he owes his she died, the building being still unfinished, entertainment. His own provisions he brings but a dozen Cistercian monks were already with him. Their cooking is of the most sim- on the ground, living in temporary lodgings, ple kind. Besides chamois meat, they live and Meinhold faithfully carried forward the chiefly upon the schmarren. Some flour is work. In 1284, it was finished, the old turned out into an earthen pan; water, and place, just as we see it to-day after nearly the yolk of one egg is added, the whole is six hundred years, and the remains of Elizwell-stirred together and thinned yet more abeth, its foundress, were brought thither. with water. The frying-pan, containing A few years later, Count Meinhold laid down. butter, is now put on the fire, and when hot the Tyrolese sovereignity, and came himself the contents of the earthern pan is poured to live under the sacred roof, a simple layin. It is browned on one side, then turned brother of the order. Here he died after a and browned again, then taken off, chopped short time, not yet fifty years of age. I up fine, an apple cut in slices is added and think life must have gone harder with those more butter, it is again well-stirred, then old princes and nobles than it does with their eaten smoking hot. Besides the hunters descendants of the present day, so often and the herds-people, there are hundreds of they were glad to lay aside the ermine! wood-cutters in the Tyrolese mountains. These last get no game, and they absolutely live on schmarren and butter, each man having an allowance of five pounds a week of the latter. At Sils, we had dinner. At this little inn, the "Post," we noticed an odd arrangement; they have their company dining-room in the second story. Peasants, and our coachman, and the crowd generally, were entertained below stairs, but we, the distinguished stran Meantime we jog along, and near noon, off to the left, the large and splendid build-gers, must climb a rude and uneven stairway ings of the Cistercian Monastery of Stams attract our eyes. It has the look of a handsome, cheerful country-house under its grand old oaks, and one can readily believe the good brothers have a comfortable life of it. It is unusual in this country to see any buildings so large upon the level ground; perched high on cliff and crag, monasteries as well as castles, overlook and domineer the land. But this one, friendly and peaceable, for more than six hundred years, has stood among the neighboring hamlets neither to threaten nor command them. for our dinners. At Sils, we had it in the hall, and while we were at table, the stell wagen, the local stage-coach, drove up and stopped for nooning. I deserted the dinnertable to watch the proceedings out-doors, and though the old thing was as picturesque as possible, it was, I doubt not, equally uncomfortable. I cannot recommend any one planning a journey in Tyrol, to rely upon it as a means of conveyance, although its cheapness is most tempting. The distance we made in the einspanner for ten florins, we could have made in the stell-wagen for two florins apiece. My memory of the afternoon is chiefly of two long up-hill walks, while the wearer of a certain gray Tyrolese hat with a tuft of cock's feathers, strode with lengthy step at my side. I think "die andere Dame" was asleep in our little wagon, while two of the sedate fellow-travellers who were "going over into Switzerland" rested peacefully under their umbrellas in the cloudless sunshine; but we, who by some chance both of us dearly loved the free walk up the mountain-road, even though the day were warm, "took the hills," with the enthusiasm of people just away from city streets. - In Imst, we nearly lost our way, which was, perhaps, the fault of the canaries! Possibly some one who possesses this feathered pet will be glad to know that his ancestors, sufficiently remote, were Tyrolese and lived in Imst. All the canaries in Europe came from this little village, except those who didn't! Anyway, the bird-trade used to be the great business of the place. Napoleon's wars, in considerable degree, broke up the peaceful traffic, but before that time travelling Tyrolese merchants, with their feathered freight, went all over Europe, from Lisbon to St. Petersburg. They were the agents of great firms, also, and executed important commissions aside from their own affairs, to an extent involving sometimes thirty or forty thousand florins. It was formerly the impression that locomotion on wheels was destructive to canaries, and hence they were carried on the back, hundreds of miles, and the travelling bird-merchant was only relieved from this load when he could ship them by sea, or upon navigable streams, from one point of the journey to another. The birds, bought up from the peasant families who made a business of raising them, must first be placed each in his little wooden cage, in which he could just turn round; these cages were then secured in a light framework, capable of receiving a hundred and sixty or seventy of them, and the whole construction was artistically covered up with linen. This being done, the journey was commenced, every thousand of birds requiring six men as carriers, and the day's journey being the day's walk of these heavilyladen individuals. Their work was arranged as follows: an hour before daylight, the convoy started, made five miles, then halted for breakfast; made five miles more and dined; again, five miles, and stopped for the night. This great wicker framework, which they carried on their backs, must have presented a singular appearance. It was five feet in height, two and a half in breadth, and two in depth, and the whole, including the feathered inhabitants, was estimated to weigh a hundred pounds. The individual cages 'were ingeniously arranged, so that they could be removed by sevens from the framework. This was done at every stopping-place, and the seed cups and drinking cups filled afresh, and each row hung upon a nail against the walls of the tavern rooms. Thus every bird had light and air, and the whole number could be inspected almost at a glance to see if any one were ill or drooping. Such was the rapidity acquired by practice in this work, that for a thousand birds it required but an hour's time; to this followed a second hour of rest, which the carriers improved for eating and drinking, and then all was repacked and the caravan set off. Every three or four days, the cages were all separated and cleansed, an undertaking which occupied so much time that on that day they could travel but two-thirds the usual distance. At Toilsome as was the journey, the carriers went gaily on their way, cheered by the shrill music of their feathered captives. tracted by the far-ringing song of the canaries, crowds of wild birds gathered from all the four quarters of the sky. Finches, larks, linnets, and all the woodland singers hovered about their concealed comrades, and accompanied the caravan long distances upon the road. They presented their last compliments and their most affectionate salutations to the travelling party, but no doubt they did not spare some reflections on the discomforts of a compulsory journey, and the delights of their own free life. But the gay travellers were not disheartened. They sang mer rily in return: "The golden liberty is sweet, but there are autumn storms and chilly days of winter coming when we shall be safe and warm. For us loving hands will minister when you are out in the lonesome cold!" Or at least that is what a bird merchant says, with true German sentiment, who, though carrying on the business on a larger scale, made one of the very last of these journeys on foot, carrying his thousand birds on his back, from Tyrol to St. Petersburg in the spring of 1841. A year later, the same person commenced the bird-trade with America, going out himself in a sailingvessel, with a thousand canaries as a venture. They were more than a month on the way, and after his arrival it took months of the greatest exertion on his part to find a market for his birds. All was lacking, he says, bird-fanciers, cages, suitable food, knowledge of their habits and wants. But these evils were remedied. In 1853, ten thousand birds a year were exported by him to America; in 1860, fifteen thousand; in the course of the past year, twenty-six thousand male canaries and about fifteen hundred other singingbirds. During the same year, also, other bird-merchans sent out to New York from Germany something like sixteen thousand more, making a total of upwards of forty thousand canaries a year, imported into New York. The exportation commences in August, when the first spring broods are ready; a thousand are sent out every Saturday from Bremen alone, in charge of a man whose duty ends upon delivering them to the firm in New York, and who returns by the next ship. Nor is the United States the sole market for the canaries of Germany. Besides the many thousand retained in the country, about five thousand find their way yearly to England and Russia, and at least as many more go to South America, to India, and to Australia. It is not making the estimate too large to say that every year sixty to seventy thousand canary birds are exported from Germany to all parts of the civilized world. And all this gigantic trade had its cradle in the little town of Imst, which is of the greatest antiquity as a town, but has a new look, in consequence of having been burned and rebuilt in 1822. At seven o'clock in the evening, we reached Landeck,-Land-eck, a corner of land, made by the intersection of two high roads. What a strange old inn it was,-the Post, though a star in Baldeker testified to its being good! A little flight of steps led to the door, or you would have been sure you were entering a cellar. Low-walled and stone-floored and smoky, was that entrance hall, and yet up one flight of uneven stairs, there were bed rooms, good and clean and airy, and ah! how wondrous was the trout we had for supper! Then we took a walk, and surveyed the town; it clings close around the river,the, houses are solid and neat, there are clean little streets, a pretty bridge, a great Gothic church, and, as usual, a castle up on the hillside, which by a singular freak of fortune has now become a sort of almshouse, filled with poor families from the village. The town is half on either side the river; on the left it is called Perfux, on the right Angedan, but why no mortal knoweth. The handsome church is a little way up on the hillside. It is in good taste, but would look better if it had not been whitewashed. A picture in the choir tells the story of its building. In 1265, lived a worthy couple near by in the deep wood, whose two little children had been carried off by a wolf and a bear. They sought this spot, which had been long held sacred to the Virgin, and promised to erect a church, if she would send them back their lost darlings. While they yet knelt, a sound of stealthy feet came through the wood, bear and wolf appeared, each with a child in its mouth, and restored them unharmed to the delighted parents. Hence, this church; and you may be sure every man, woman and child in Landeck believes the story, for is not the church there to prove that it is true! In the choir is a monument to Oswald von Schrofenstein, buried there in 1497. The carved device upon the tomb is a wild goat, a very favorite crest of the older Tyrolese nobles. On the other side of the Inn is all that is left of his castle, a little yellowish tower in the woods. We had not time to go and find it. There is talk of wine in the ruinous cellar, which must be four hundred years old. Still I think that it is a myth, and perhaps so is the castle itself. In front of the church is an old linden tree, which may be coeval with Cunigunde's linden at Nuremberg, which used to be a village resort. Hither came our old acquaintance of the Empty Purse, Duke Frederick, in his days of exile. He came as a wandering harper, and sung the story of his woes till all hearts were moved, and presently all eyes were opened to know the true prince, and they bore him in triumph into Landeck and later to Innsbruck itself. All this neighborhood is crowded with reminiscences of local history. For at least six centuries the tide of border warfare has ebbed and flowed through Landeck. The CAMILLE DESMOULINS. THE · Bavarian armies have invaded and been True to my favorite fancy, last of all I sought the bridge, - the pretty new bridge over the Inn. Overhead loomed the great mountain masses, not so high but that they were tree-clad to the summits. Below rushed the wild stream. We lingered late in the cloudy twilight and talked of Vienna, and of England. All the time, the river tinkled its merry accompaniment,―now and then we heard some solitary bird-voice out of the woods, - the very genius of the mountains possessed the place, nor did any after experience exactly match, in the finest and most delicate effects, my twilight hour on the bridge at Landeck. (To be Continued.) A MYSTERY. BY MRS. ANNIE H. FROST. They met, two strangers in the street ; Why sad? I know not, only that BY REV. JAMES EASTWOOD. HE newspaper and the pamphlet have been official agents in modern revoluThe Stamp Act, Taxation, Boston Port Bill-all the relations of the Colonies to Great Britain, were fully and ably discussed, prior to 1776, in newspapers and pamphlets as well as in sermons and speeches, and thus the public mind was prepared for the war that followed. Paine's pamphlet, Common Sense, did much toward stimulating our fathers to the Declaration of Independence. And his American Crisis subsequently encouraged them to persevere till their freedom was gained. And we remember how the "Southern heart" was fired in 1860-65 by the Richmond prints and other organs of Southern opinion and Southern feeling. From 1789 till several years later, the French people, especially the Parisians, were kept constantly excited by revolutionary journals and pamphlets. Loustelot, in the Revolution of Paris, Marat, in the People's Friend, Brissot, in the French Patriot, Condorat, in the Paris Chronicle; Carra, in the Patriotic Annals; Fréron, in the People's Orator; the Duke of Orleans, in the Jacobin Journal, and Camille Desmoulins, in the Discourse of the Lantern to the Parisians, advocated the most ultra opinions and the most extreme measures against the church and State. Camille Desmoulins, one of the many weird characters thrown up by the Revolution, was born in Guise, a hundred miles north-east of Paris, in 1762. He was bred to the law, but early turned his attention to politics. He published on this subject in 1788, Voice of In each breast lingered something, what? Philosophy to the French People, and in 1789, |