liberty that grows with and out of the intimate communication with Nature.

Hans'l's costume, like that of all his peasantbrethren, was that of Elvino in the Sonnambula,' and it would have been no easy task to have found an Amina to match. His dark brown ruddy complexion told of toil and health, open air, and pure thoughts, and his large bright blue eye told of honesty and truth, such as no earthly consideration could corrupt. As Hans'l was preparing to leave us, a glass of wine was offered to him. He raised it to his lips, and then hesitating, "Did not they tell me at Scherding," said he, "that the gnädige Frau had children ?"

"One little girl," I replied.

"Then it is her health I will drink,” he rejoined, with a delicacy that would have done honour to any station, "here's to the liebe kleine !"

Ah! Hans'l, the double shake of the hand you got for that was a sincere and a cordial one.

"God bless you, gnädige Frau, and gnädiger Herr!" said he, as he carried my hand to his lips,

may health and happiness attend you, and may you one day come back again amongst us!" There was visible emotion in the way in which he said this, and he shook my companion's hand with a mixture of

respect and self-respect I shall not easily forget. I never saw such an instance of honour, done to self, whilst being done to others. Rely upon it, reader, that the country where such men as Hans'l are common is a great country.

Our next coachman, who was to take us to Vienna in three days, was of a different kind; he was elderly and town bred, and therefore not to compare to Hans'l, besides which, his mother was from Fulda, which made a cross in the breed.

The day passed off well enough, stopping to Junch at Ennsdorf, where, on one side of the river, Upper Austria leaves off, and on the other, Lower Austria commences. I wonder little boys ever grow up into men in this wonderful place; for there is a palpable reason why they should all break their necks. This is no less than the Bahn down the Wiener Gasse. From the principal street there turns down to the left a small road, so steep, but above all so sharp at the turning, that it is not easy to descend it on foot. Down this smooth precipice, for it is little else, the infantine population of Ennsdorf carries on the same game as at Scherding, with this difference, that, as I can certify, comparatively few of them get to the bottom in the state in which they left the top. Down they go,

head over heels; sledges even, which are "stubborn

things," cannot stand it, and turn upside down, pitching the propellors of them no matter where. There lie the brats, sprawling in the snow, and nothing can prevent the next comer, down the hill, from either inflicting upon the already prostrate involuntary blows, or from being himself upset over the obstacle presented by his fallen comrade. The bottom of this Wiener Gasse is a perfect battle-field, and is encumbered with heaps of slaughtered sledges, to say the least. I repeat it, I wonder that, in Ennsdorf, little boys ever grow up to be men.

That they should ever come to what is termed "man's estate," is a matter of some surprise to me, but that we who have arrived at that enviable age, should be still in being after the night we spent at Amstetten, is far more surprising still.

Amstetten is a small town about eighty miles from Vienna, and here we were destined to find supper and beds.

Under an arched stone gateway rolled the carriage, and out of it we got, but no one came forth to meet us. The coachman opened a door, and we entered a dimly-lighted room, tenanted by two females, who rose at our approach. They were evidently sisters, for they were the image of one another, but such pale, scared, strange-looking girls I never beheld, either before or since. They were very handsome, both with

dark

eyes and really raven hair; but I bethought me of the vampire, and I was

believe (and I do believe so

strongly inclined to

now) that these dark

maidens of Amstetten were the victims of some

such enchantment.

look.

Supper!" was of course the first entrée en

matière.

Supper!" echoed both with a deep sigh. "Well," I retorted, "what have you got?" "What we have got ?" (another sigh; I began to shiver, and take them for living Loreleys who echo all that is said to them.) The upshot of the crossexamination was "fried chickens" and Rostbraten, (Anglicè, the upper coating of a beefsteak frizzled, with onions round it as black as itself).

Despair seized us. At length an idea struck me. -No Austrian inn is ever without a fat capon. I suggested this.

"Oh, yes!" was the reply, "that you can have." And accordingly, comforted with this assurance, we proceeded to inspect the bed-rooms, and see that they were duly warmed.

Slowly did one of these suspicious looking nymphs prepare my bed with her white hands (they were bloodless as her cheeks), and the following conversation took place between us :

I. "If travellers arrived in the night, what would you do?"

A deep sigh and a vacant stare..

I. "Do not people eat in this part of the country?" A slight shrug of the shoulders, and an uncertain "Ja," that appeared to mean " that's as it may be."

I. "Have you ever any travellers here?"

A long-drawn sigh, accompanying the word "Some-. times," which evidently masked this thought: "I wish none ever came at all!"

But the effort had been a strong one, and the pale girl let the pillow fall heavily on the bolster and rested awhile. At the end of half an hour, I sought once more the lower regions of this strange dwelling, hoping that now the much-desired fowl would not be long ere it made its appearance. To this effect I addressed myself to the twin Brownie of the taciturn bed-maker up stairs. She answered me with the same sigh and stare, but still "worse remained behind."

"Ja!" said she, to my demand for the promised bird, "it is true that there are capons," (I should hope so, indeed! seeing that we are to sup upon one)-she stopped, took breath, sighed, and continued: "there are capons, but-" (oh, evil boding "but!" most ominous conjunction!) "but,-they are not yet killed!"