suddenly attacked from the opposite side of the narrow gorge, and the Tyrolese, emboldened by the arrival of help, turned and. made another attack so vigorous, that the Bavarians were forced to surrender. And then it was shown who they were that had come to the rescue. They were the wives of the fugitives, who, while weeping in their village church, and lamenting the probable fate of their husbands, had been told by the priest, 'Ah! there is better to be done than crying: take guns and scythes, and let us go and save your husbands;' and the relief-party immediately set out, headed by the priest's sister.

But winter-the bitter Alpine winter-did more than French and Bavarian muskets to quell the Insurrection; and, by the middle of December, nearly all the chiefs had accepted the amnesty offered by Prince Eugene and General Baraguay d'Hilliers, who were both of them anxious to spare the lives of their gallant enemies.

The Sandwirth, however, knowing that their goodwill would be powerless against their master Buonaparte's orders, would not trust himself in their hands; but, placing his three girls in safety with a friend at St. Martin, and his wife and son on the Schneeberg (the Snow Mountain,' a cold-sounding place of retreat for December), withdrew to a tiny pasture-hut, belonging to one 'Pfandler,' left vacant in winter on the Brantach Mountain, high above the Passeyr Valley.

Thus the flames of insurrection died out, and it only remained to trample on the embers, that no spark might be left to be rekindled in the future.

A CRUEL one it was-terrible days of vengeance and retaliation followed, especially in the Brixen and Pusterthal districts, where Severoli and Broussin commanded.

At Silliam, Severoli had a peasant shot in presence of his ten children, who vainly implored mercy. At Mitterolang, an old

man was arrested and condemned to be shot unless his son, a young Tyrolese lieutenant, should surrender himself. The young man was in hiding in the forest, but, on hearing of his father's peril, immediately gave himself up, and for him Broussin devised a terrible punishment. He decreed that he should be

shot at his own door before the eyes of his old father and of his young wife; and that his body should be left there, hanging on a gibbet, to inspire terror into the hearts of his fellow-countrymen. The wife threw herself on the ground before the General, and clung to his keees as she implored her husband's life; but he remained unmoved and walked on, dragging the poor young thing along the ground as she still clung to him in the agony of despair. A good old priest, Franz Moerl, succeeded in persuading the executioner to remove the execution a few paces farther off, but that was all that could be done-the sentence was carried out, and a little chapel now marks the spot, with the whole sad story painted on its walls.

A noble example of truth and steadfastness was given by Peter Mayr, an innkeeper, near Brixen, and one of the chiefs of the Insurrection, who was arrested, and taken to Bozen for trial by court-martial. The sentence was

death, and Mayr went back to his prison-cell to await it. Then his wife went to the wife of General Baraguay d'Hilliers, herself a German, and besought her to intercede with her husband for the life of the prisoner. The General, always generously inclined towards the brave peasants, did his very utmost. It was arranged with the lawyer, who had defended Mayr, that if he could be brought to say that he had not read Prince Eugene's proclamation of the 13th of November, forbidding the carrying of arms under pain of death, or at least that he had not understood it, he might yet be got off. But no! Peter Mayr answered simply that he had read the proclamation, and had understood it very well indeed. Nothing could move him; and, in reply to his wife's entreaties, he only answered:

'I do not wish to escape death at the price of a lie.'

So quietly and calmly he suffered, going to