h it
treats occurred, there was neither wall nor railing, and the road passed
some twelve feet higher up, over a ledge of rock, and actually seemed
to jut out above the precipice. There is, indeed, a memorial of the
transaction to which I allude, but it stands about twelve hundred feet
down in the gorge below,--a small wooden cross of rudest workmanship,
with the equally rudely inscribed words, "Der Vorspann's Grab."

Now for the story, which happily is short.

It was late on a severe evening of winter, as a _caleche_ drawn by two
horses drew up to the door of the post-house at Steuben; for then, as
now, Steuben was the last post-station before commencing the ascent of
the Arlberg. The travellers, two in number, wore military cloaks and
foraging caps; but what the precise rank, or to what arm of the service
they belonged, not even the prying observations of the host could
fathom. Their orders were for fresh horses immediately to cross the
mountain, and although the snow-drift was falling fast, and the night
dark as pitch, they peremptorily insisted on proceeding. The post
regulations of those days were not very stringent and arbitrary; as a
post-master may seem nowadays, he was nothing to the autocrat that once
ruled the comings and goings of unhappy travellers.

When he averred that his horses had done enough--that it was a
saint's-day--that the weather was too bad or his postilions too weary,
the case was hopeless, and the traveller was consigned, without appeal,
to the consolations of his own philosophy.

It chanced that on this occasion the whole disposable cavalry of the
Post consisted of two blind mares, which were both too old and weak to
tempt the cravings of the Commissary, who a few days before had seized
on all the draught-cattle to convey stores to Feldkirch, at that time
menaced by a French force under Massena.

The officers, however, were urgent in their demand; it was of the last
importance that they should reach Inspruck by the following evening. At
last, half by menace, half by entreaty, it was arranged that the two old
mares should be harnessed to the carriage, the host remonstrating all
the while on the inability of the expedient, and averring that, without
a Vorspann, a relay of horses, to lead at the steepest parts of the
mountain, the attempt would be fruitless. "Nay," added he, "if you
doubt me, ask the boy who is sleeping yonder, and has been driving the
Vorspann for years over the Arlberg."