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beer, or munching a rye-cake as if it were a feast for the emperor. Towards nightfall, they were completely tired out; numbers lay down to rest, in the streets, and were asleep in a moment; some on straw, some without it; while others prepared to camp out all night in the orchards. I thought I might as well be walking homewards as that, and so I started off: no doubt the Bavarians will be down upon them with reinforcements to-day or to-morrow."

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"And then they'll lose all they've won,” said the old woman. Well, that will be a pity." She sat musing upon it, while Franz went indoors, and presently came out again, devouring a great rye-cake, and a lump of cheese. He sat down on an inverted milk-pail, and, while he continued eating, he watched a girl who was coming up from the valley with a long hazel wand in her hand.

She was dressed in a short, scanty petticoat of bright grass-green, with a black bodice that was laced in front over a chemise with short full sleeves of snowy whiteness. On her head she wore a small black, sugar-loaf hat, with a gay riband tied round it. Her appearance, at a distance, was excessively picturesque; but when she drew near, she proved to be very plain, with thick ankles, a thick waist, and large, red, coarse hands.

"Here comes Lenora," said Franz, at length; speaking with his mouth full.

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Soh!" said the old woman, with a kind of snort," she is vouchsafing to return home at last, is

she? She might have come to look after me in the course of this long morning, I should think. But girls now are not what girls used to be."

It would appear from this speech, that Lenora ought to have joined the couple who were seated outside the cottage, with the penitent air of one who had neglected her duty; but, on the contrary, she took up quite another tone.

"So, Mr. Franz!" shouted she, in a voice that would have filled St. Paul's, "you're come back again at last, arè you, sir, after leaving me these twenty-four hours to do your work !—you might, at any rate, have had the civility to tell me you were going; but no, not you!"

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What's the matter now?" said Franz, doggedly. What's the matter?" repeated Lenora, still chafing; "why, have not I, in addition to my own work, had to do every bit of man's work that has been done about the place? Who, but for me, would have watered the horse, turned out the cows, sheep, and goats after milking, and a hundred things besides? As I was driving our sheep to pasture, Gaspard looked over the hedge, and Do the same for me, my good girl, will you?' says he, 'for I'm off with my rifle.' So there was I with two flocks of sheep on my hands, besides the cows and the

goats; and, not knowing exactly how many sheep Gaspard had, I counted them twice very carefully, and, the second time, I missed one. So I wasn't by any means sure whether I had counted them wrong the first time, or whether one had strayed; but somehow I thought one had strayed, because I fancied I remembered that the number was an odd number, and now it was even; and also that I had remarked a weak-eyed, rather ill-looking ewe, that had something particular in its bleat. Well, I could see nothing of this ewe, so I made sure it had strayed; and, as it belonged to a neighbour, I was even more sorry for it than if it had been my own. So I sought it here, and I sought it there; first in all the likely, and next in all the unlikely places; and, meanwhile, the sun was scorching hot, as if it had been August. At last I got to the pass where one of your cows pitched over last spring—

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"That was a good way off," muttered Franz. "Truly it was," said the girl, with self-pity; 'however, there I trudged; and just as I had got to the brink of the ravine I heard that queersounding bleat. I looked down, and there was the ewe, who had toppled over and fallen into the upper part of a thorn-bush, from which she could not get out. So I had to scramble down, get hold of her, and lay her across my shoulders, climb up the bank again, and carry her all the way back. Such a

weight she was! All this trouble you might have.

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He had to tell his story all over again.

CHAPTER VII.

INNSBRUCK.

ICTURE to yourself an old cathedral-town in

PICTUR

the midst of a valley about three miles across, hemmed in by magnificent mountains six to eight thousand feet high, from whose summits the wolves are said to look down into the very streets. The city stands on a deep, impetuous river—the Inn ; and hence its name, Innsbruck, or Inn's Bridge.

This city is but of moderate extent; but few towns of its size contain, in the modern part, better and handsomer buildings; and its suburbs are remarkable for cleanliness and elegance. The old part of the city is picturesque enough: there you may see tumble-down old houses nodding with age, having rickety outside staircases leading to old, rickety wooden galleries or balconies; crumbling walls kept together with old timbers nailed outside in various quaint fashions; upper floors overhanging lower ones, and supported with rows of carved brackets, or by poles imbedded in the pavement

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