ON PLAIN AND PEAK 



zither, floating up on the evening air from some 

 silent valley, the mellow voices of the peasants, as 

 they jodel some part-song, every note in perfect 

 harmony, in the moonlight, blend with the murmur 

 of the mountain streamlet, with the swirl and roar of 

 the rushing torrent, with the gentle whispering of 

 the pine-branches, in a strange accord. 



Perhaps the most striking feature of the Tyrolese 

 is their innate love of sport. There has always 

 been a tinge of romance, a kind of glamour, about 

 the chamois-hunter. And the chamois-poacher, too, 

 is a fine fellow. The man who will walk for eight 

 or ten hours to the mountain he has selected for his 

 stalking expedition, who will risk his life for the 

 sake of an animal that, when killed, is probably not 

 worth half a sovereign, is not the same sort of being 

 as the lazy, drunken, good-for-nothing that we 

 associate with the name of " poacher." 



There is no doubt that it is the sheer love of 

 sport that moves the Tyrolese poacher ; and yet 

 there is, occasionally, money to be made by his 

 successes. The actual value of a dead chamois, 

 without either horns or " beard," is only about four 

 and a half gulden (js. 6d.). But a good pair of 

 buck's horns will sell for from ten to twenty gulden, 

 and a fine gemsbart will fetch just as much ; though 

 such trophies as these do not fall to the lot of even 

 a poacher any too often. Formerly, a regular war- 



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