in which he
never could be a participator: but how little have material influences
power over the flight of a highly imaginative nature! His father's
stories as he sat at the fireside, his earliest lessons in reading,
implanted the impulse, which the very events of the time served to
strengthen and mature.

It was just the period when the Tyrol, crushed by the oppression of
Bavaria, insulted and outraged in every feeling, had begun to think of
vengeance. The transient success of the Austrians on the Danube animated
the brave mountaineers, and cheered them with the hope of freedom.
Already the low muttering of the distant storm was heard. Wherever a
group of peasants gathered, their low whisperings, their resolute looks,
their clenched hands, denoted some stern purpose. Secret Masses were
said in the chapels for the "rescue of the Vaterland;" the ancient
legends of the land were all remembered; sights and sounds of ominous
meaning were reported to have been observed; all indicative of a
speedy convulsion, all suggesting hope and courage. Rumour had told of
conferences between the Archduke John of Austria and the Tyrol leaders;
not failing to exaggerate the aid proffered by the Imperial Government
in the event of a struggle. The ancient spirit of the land was up, and
only waited the signal for the fight.

Remote and secluded as the little village of my story lay, the news of
the coming conflict did not fail to reach it. Little Hans formed the
link which bound them to the world of the valley beneath; and daily
did he, in despite of lameness, descend the steep path that led to the
Pontlatzer Brucke, bringing back with him towards nightfall the last
rumours of the day. Vague and uncertain as they were, they were listened
to with breathless eagerness. Sometimes, the intelligence merely
announced a gathering of the peasants in a mountain glen; sometimes, the
arrival of a messenger with secret despatches from Vienna. Now, Hofer
had passed through Maltz the night before; now, it was a Bavarian
reinforcement was seen arriving at Landeck.

These simple tidings had seemed of little meaning to their ears if Hans
were not there to give them significance, filling up all the blanks by
wise surmises, and suggesting reasons and causes for every thing. He had
his own theory of the war--where the enemy should be met, and how; in
what manner certain defiles should be defended, and how, in case of
defeat, the scattered forces might re-uni