orgeous scene burst upon her waking eyes! Around, on every side of
the little plain, rose the great mountains of the Tyrol; some green
and tree-clad to their summits, others snow-capped or hid in the
azure-colored clouds above them. Ancient castles crowned the crags, and
foaming cataracts leaped from each fissured gorge; while below, in the
valley, there lay a garden of rich profusion,--the vine, the olive,
and the waving corn,--with villages and peasant-houses half hid in
the luxuriant verdure. From the lowing cattle beside the river to the
re-echoing horn upon the mountains, there seemed to come greeting and
answer. All was grandeur and sublimity in the scene; but, more striking
than these, was the perfect repose, the deep tranquillity of the
picture. The sounds were all those of peasant labor, the song of the
vine-dresser, the rustling noise of the loaded wagon as it moved through
some narrow and leafy road, the hissing of the sickle through the ripe
corn.

"And yet," said Hanserl, as Nelly stood in silent enjoyment at the
little porch,--"and yet, Fraeulein, beyond those great mountains yonder,
there is strife and carnage. Here all is peaceful and happy; but the
whole world of Europe is tempest-torn. Italy is up,--all her people are
in wild revolt; Hungary is in open insurrection. I speak not of other
lands, whose fortunes affect us not, but the great empire of our Kaiser
is convulsed to its very centre. I have just been at Meran, troops are
marching in every hour, and every hour come new messengers to bid them
hasten southward. Over the Stelvio, where you see that dark line yonder,
near the summit of the mountains, on they pour! They say, too, that
Upper Austria is in rebellion, and that the roads from Innspruck are
unsafe to travel. We are safe here, Fraeulein, but you must not venture
further. We will try, from some of the officers who pass through, to
glean tidings of the Count, your grand-uncle, and where a letter may
reach him; but bear with this humble shelter for a while, and think it a
home."

If Nelly was disappointed and baffled by this impediment to her journey,
she was not one to pass her time in vague regrets, but at once addressed
herself to the call of new duties with a willing mind and a cheerful
spirit.

Resuming her long-neglected tools, she set to work once more, stimulated
by the new scenes and subjects around her. To the little children who
often formed her "studies," she became the schoolmis