ON PLAIN AND PEAK 



the next day in two carriages, with our luggage 

 on the box of the one, and the fat Anton on the 

 box of the other. It was a misty morning great 

 wreaths and clouds of grey vapour hung round the 

 mountains, giving us but fleeting glimpses of their 

 rugged and fir-clad slopes, and the giant snow-clad 

 peaks that towered up to heaven above us. 



Our road lay along the Zillerthal " the Valley 

 of Song," as it is often called, from the musical 

 tastes of its people through which flows the blue- 

 green Ziller, its waters clear and sparkling as when 

 they left their snowy source somewhere in cloud- 

 land. 



Two hours' drive brought us to Zell, where we 

 stopped for half an hour to rest the horses ; and 

 in another hour we were at Mayrhofen the last 

 civilized place we should see before our return 

 journey. 



Luncheon was prepared for us at the house of 

 one Anton Hochleitner, for many years the Im- 

 perial forester in charge of these mountains. A 

 great chamois-hunter was this fine old man. Some 

 nine hundred chamois have fallen to his rifle, in the 

 course of his long life ; but (alas !) the passage of 

 seventy-five years leaves one too old for the moun- 

 tains. Not that he thinks so, however. " I cannot 

 come this year, your Highness, but I hope I shall 

 be able to do so the next," he said as we left him, 



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