cold earth closing over her.

At the time when he made his summer excursion in the Tyrol, Fritz was
a stout blond youth of two and twenty. His round, sleek face was not
badly modelled, but it had neither the rough openness, characteristic
of a peasant, nor yet that indefinable finish which only culture can
give. In spite of his jaunty, fashionable attire, you would have put
him down at once as belonging to what in the Old World is called "the
middle class." His blue eyes indicated shrewdness, and his red cheeks
habitual devotion to the national beverage. He was apparently a youth
of the sort that Nature is constantly turning out by the
thousand--mere weaker copies of progenitors, who by an unpropitious
marriage have enfeebled instead of strengthening the type.
Circumstances might have made anything of him in a small way; for, as
his countenance indicated, he had no very pronounced proclivities,
either good or bad. He had spent his boyhood in a gymnasium, where he
had had greater success in trading jack-knives than in grappling with
Cicero. He had made two futile attempts to enter the Berlin
University, and had settled down to the conviction that he had
mistaken his calling, as his tastes were military rather than
scholarly; but, as he was too old to rectify this mistake, he had
chosen to go to the Tyrol in search of pleasure rather than to the
Military Academy in search of distinction.

At the mouth of the great ravine of Dornauberg the travellers paused
and dismounted. Mr. Hahn called the guide, who was following behind
with a horse laden with baggage, and with his assistance a choice
repast, consisting of all manner of cold curiosities, was served on a
large flat rock. The senior Hahn fell to work with a will and made no
pretence of being interested in the sombre magnificence of the