eeps watch over the vineyards like a pensioned veteran.

Just before me on a rock which projects from the Kuechelberg, I
perceived the ruins of Zenoburg, and considered whether my strength
would carry me thus far on the broad and uncared for road, or if I
should content myself with crossing the stone bridge from whence I
could see the cheerful village of Obermais. A woman approached me with
a basket of grapes and peaches on her head. I bought some fruit and
after eating it felt invigorated. So I set off, pausing at every step
to look down on the Passer whose water now dark blue, now flaked with
white foam, flowed through the arch of the bridge. How boldly yet
lightly the vines hang from the rugged rocks on the banks of the river;
among them grows the wild fig-tree covered with purple fruit. Running
water conducted in canals refreshes the leaves, and now and then turns
a wheel. Large chesnut-trees rise from the depths. Everywhere luxuriant
growth and rejoicing nature meets the eye. Mine rested with especial
pleasure on the varied colouring of the rocks; here of a warm brownish
tint, there of a silvery grey. How picturesque those peasants, in their
bright costumes look, coming down from the Kuechelberg, and that cart or
rather two wheeled sledge, drawn by strong whitish grey oxen, and laden
with vine-leaves, descending the Zenoburg. And above all a sky the
colour of which, I had held till now, to be a fiction of poets, and
painters. While I so walked on and wondered, I said to myself this is
all mine this is my joy and no one can take it from me. Could it be
more mine if instead of, for one moment, I had looked on it for
centuries? Who can say if the best part of every pleasure does not
consist in its transientness; how otherwise could the happy ever grow
tired of their bliss....

I had probably walked on too fast while thinking of all this, so that
when I reached the top of the hill, I had to rest on a bench which
stood before a pretty house. My eyes closed in involuntary slumber. All
was still around me, only the Meran church bells which deafened me
below sounded softly up here and lulled me to sleep. How pleasantly we
dream in the mid-day sunshine, when the light penetrates our closed
eyelids, and blends in our fancy with the marvellous colours and rays
which have nothing tangible or earthly in them. Sitting quite still for
some time, I probably went to sleep, but suddenly I started up as I
felt something cold and moi