athletic festivals parallel those of Westmorland, Cumberland, and the Highland gatherings of our own land and the sports are to a considerable extent similar in character. The most popular, however, are undoubtedly shooting at a mark, or Scheibenschiessen as they are called, and wrestling.
The Tyrolese gun, usually a short-barrelled rifle, known as stutz, has played an important part not only in the history of the nation, but also in the domestic life of the people. In many of the more remote valleys, in the past at least, it has deserved its name of the bread-winner, for upon the game shot with it many a household has largely subsisted; whilst from the skins of the deer, chamois and other animals killed, articles of clothing are made. To the constant use of the gun in all its evolutionary stages, from the flint-lock musket down to the more modern rifle of to-day, the Tyrolese owe their renown as being amongst the finest marksmen in Europe, a characteristic which has counted so tremendously in their various struggles with the invaders of their country.
Wrestling is popular throughout the Tyrolese valleys, but nowhere more so than in the picturesque and romantic Zillerthal. The champion wrestler of a village, as used to be the village "bruiser" with us, is a person of importance who would not barter the distinction for love nor money. The wrestlers are divided into three kinds, the "Roblar," "Mairraffer," and "Haggler," who follow the rules of different schools of wrestling. In former times this love of the sport, or perhaps one should say supremacy in it, frequently led to scenes of crime and bloodshed. Often in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries noted robbers and freebooters were those who had acquired great physical powers as wrestlers, and in consequence took to brigandage as a means of livelihood. Indeed, there are stories told of fair maidens in past ages having been carried off from their betrothed by force, when the rejected suitor (or perhaps the unknown rival who had set his heart on a particular girl) had killed his rival in a wrestling bout. To prove murderous intent under such circumstances was not only extremely difficult but also somewhat against the "sporting" instinct of the race, and the primeval idea that the woman should fall to the strongest.
Bowling and the game of skittles are also favourite pastimes, and to the latter especially several romantic stories attach. Indeed, even at the present day one can find traces of the belief that the game is also popular with the elves, gnomes, goblins, and "little folk" who are supposed to dwell in or haunt certain mountains, woods, and streams, only these supernatural folk mostly play with gold and silver balls and skulls in the legends and folk tales one hears around the firesides in Tyrolese chalets.
A GHOSTLY LEGEND
There is a strange story in connection with this game and the spirit players attached to the now ruined and once strong and famous castle of Starkenberg, which was destroyed by Frederick with the Empty Purse in the fifteenth century.
Once, so the story goes, a pedlar was overtaken by darkness upon the mountain side, and losing his way, he came to the ancient schloss, in which he decided to take shelter for the night. He lay down on the grassy floor of the ruined hall, and placing his pack beneath his head went off to sleep. He slept for some hours and then was awakened by the clock of a neighbouring village striking midnight. As the last stroke reverberated amongst the rocks of the hillside he was astonished to see twelve spectral figures clad in complete armour file into the hall, and set to work to play a game of bowls, using skulls in place of balls.
THE ORTLER FROM THE MALSER HEIDE
Now it happened that the pedlar was not only a fine wrestler and a man of great physical strength and courage (otherwise he would scarcely perhaps have chosen a haunted ruin in which to pass the night), but was the champion bowler of his native village. So he offered to pit his skill against that of the spectral knights. His challenge was accepted, and in the end he beat them all, and to his astonishment, instead of disgust being shown at his victory, his prowess was hailed with shouts of joy, and one of the spirits speaking to him said that now they were released from purgatory, and then they all vanished. Much mystified, the pedlar turned to see where they had disappeared to, when his eyes were greeted by the sight of ten more men in armour, who entered the hall by separate doors. After having carefully locked the latter they all brought the keys to the pedlar, and entreated him to try and discover the right one for each door. Nothing abashed he undertook the task which was a difficult one owing to the fact that each key, door, and ghostly visitant were exactly alike. He managed, however, to accomplish his task successfully, and was overwhelmed by the thanks of the spirits, who told him, as had their bowl-playing counterparts, that he had by this feat released them from torment.
As was to be quite expected, it was now the devil's turn to appear upon the scene, which he immediately did, roundly upbraiding the pedlar for having thus robbed him of some of his victims, and declaring that he (the devil) would now inevitably manage to gain the pedlar's soul instead. The latter was not to be so easily disposed of, however, and he offered to stake his soul upon a game of bowls to be played between himself and the Evil One. Needless to say that the latter was beaten, and when dawn came at length he fled away with a horrible rushing of his bat-like wings, and his hot sulphurous breath tainting the air, so that the grass was withered in places.
The pedlar was not likely to keep such an interesting experience to himself, and so when in due course he came to the village, towards which he was making his way when overtaken by nightfall, he told the tale. The villagers amazed went to the ruined castle, and lo and behold there was the scorched grass as the pedlar had declared.
It would be easy to quote other equally quaint and romantic stories which are told in connection with the sports and pastimes of Tyrol, but that of the pedlar and the ghostly knights or men-at-arms must suffice. It will, at all events, serve to demonstrate how inextricably interwoven are the threads of legendary lore and romance, even with the commonplace daily life and amusements of this interesting people.
CHAPTER IV
INNSBRUCK, ITS HISTORY, PEOPLE AND TREASURES
The approach to Innsbruck, whether one come to it by railway or by road from the west, north, east or south, is picturesque and even wonderfully beautiful. Most English and American travellers, however, we imagine, come to the old-time capital of Tyrol via Zurich and the Arlberg railway, with its marvellous tunnel all but six and a half miles in length, above which tower snow-clad peaks and glaciers. This route provides a wonder-world of delight, a succession of deep gorges lying at the foot of towering mountains covered on their summits with a mantle of spotless and eternal snow. At one moment the train traverses a steep gradient climbing slowly along the hillside as though the line were laid upon a shelf of rock from which nothing but a miracle can keep it from tumbling into the foaming torrent below; the next plunging into the darkness of one of the many tunnels, to emerge a moment or two later into a blaze of light and vistas of still greater beauty. The Arlberg railway is not alone an engineering triumph; it is also an artistic one. Few lines in Europe present greater charm or variety of scenery in so comparatively short a distance. To enter Tyrol by it is to see the country as it is, largely unaltered from the days when Napoleon's armies entered it also from the Swiss frontier with the same objective, Innsbruck.
Soon after leaving Feldkirch the valley commences to contract as the line climbs upwards from Bludenz and passes through the beautiful Kloster Thal; and at Langen one suddenly comes into the region of Alpine pastures, and from the valley below one can hear the musical tinkle of cow-bells, and discover on the hill-slopes picturesque groups of peasants minding their flocks. Then comes the ascent through the famous Arlberg tunnel, which is 26 feet in width and 23 feet in height, with its six and a half miles of gloom succeeded by magnificent scenery as St. Anton is passed, and the
