arents
and grandparents before them, strenuously adhered year after year to
the peaceful old Hof as their summer residence. _Schwalben_ by name,
they had English and American cousins, the swallows and martins: they
pursued a yearly routine of spending the winter months with other
connexions in Algeria or the Levant, then, dividing into groups,
returned to their various mountain or pastoral homes in cooler, more
verdant lands. Thus, on the second Wednesday in the month of May one
family always arrived at the old castle of Neuhaus, giving a sentiment
to the forsaken ruin which it could not otherwise possess, and about
the same week a number of their cousins and distant connexions took up
their quarters at the Hof.

[Illustration: SCHLOSS SCHWALBEN.]

The swallows in the Tyrol pass for holy birds. There is a tradition
that their forefathers helped the Lord Almighty to build the
firmament, but how and in what manner popular tradition does not tell
us. Being blessed by God and dedicated to the Virgin Mary, the simple
peasant often leaves his doors and windows open to attract such
valued inmates, seeing that peace and happiness enter with them, and
lightning never strikes the roof where swallows build. Should they
forsake a house in the course of the summer, it is a sign of coining
misfortune. He who kills a swallow will lose father or mother.

A firm belief in the goodness of the swallows made Kathi honor and
welcome the familiar visitants. "They were no greedy guests," she
said, "for they always arrived when the bins of meal and winter
provisions were empty, and in the autumn, as soon as they were filled
again, they were off without bite or bit."

Many an old deserted room in the high-pitched roof was given over to
these inoffensive, man-loving birds. Hundreds of nests, some in good
condition, others deserted and out of repair, clung to old beams,
rafters and wainscots. A steady sound of fluttering and juvenile
chirping issued through the closed doors, contrasting with the silence
of the long stone corridor, whilst parent birds whirled gracefully in
and out through the dusty open windows, or poised themselves on the
warm shingles of the roof. The grandest, most comfortable quarters
were afforded in a large unused chamber occupying the front gable;
and, curiously enough, either in reality or fancy, we could not help
observing that whilst the various members of the community lived
fraternally together, there still seemed