te; little views of strategy
and tactics, that seemed like inspiration to the simple ears who beard
him.

Hans' tidings grew daily more important; and one evening he returned to
the Kletscher with a sealed note for the Curate--a circumstance
which excited the most intense curiosity in the Dorf. It was not long
ungratified, for the old priest speedily appeared in the little square
before the Vorsteher's House, and announced that each evening, at
sunset, a Mass would be said in the chapel, and a prayer invoked on all
who loved "Gott, der Kaiser, und das Vaterland." Hans was pressed on
every side; some asking what was going on in the valley, others eager to
hear if the Austrians had not been defeated, and that the Mass was for
the slain. Hans knew less than usual; he could only tell that large
bodies of the peasantry were seen ascending the mountain towards
Landeck, armed with saws and hatchets, while kegs of blasting powder
were borne along between others. "We shall know more, soon," added Hans;
"but come! the chapel is lighted already; the Mass has begun."

How picturesque was the effect the chapel presented! The sun was
setting, and its long golden rays, mingled with the red light of the
tapers, tipping the rich draperies of the altar and its glittering
vessels with a parti-coloured light; the kneeling figures of the
peasantry, clad in all the varied colours of Tyrol taste; the men
bronzed by sun and season, dark-bearded, stern, and handsome; the women
fairer, but not less earnest in expression; the white-haired priest,
dressed in a simple robe of white, with a blue scarf over it--the
Bavarians had stripped the chapels even of the vestments of the
clergy--the banners of the little volunteer battalion of the mountain
waving overhead,--all, made up a picture simple and unpretending, but
still solemn and impressive.

The Mass ended, the priest addressed a few words on the eventful
position of the Vaterland--at first, in terms of vague, uncertain
meaning; but growing warmer as he proceeded, more clearly and more
earnestly, he told them that the "Wolves"--none needed to be told that
Frenchmen were meant--that the "Wolves" were about to ravage the flocks
and overrun the villages, as they had already done twice before; that
the Bavarians, who should be their friends, were about to join their
bitterest enemies; that although the "Gute Franzerl"--for so familiarly
did they ever name the Emperor--wished them well, he could hel