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Brixen during the summer of 1911 were the Archduchess Maria Josefa, sister of the King of Saxony, and and mother of the heir-presumptive to the Austrian crown, and her second son, the Archduke Maximilian, who spent five weeks there.

About a mile above Brixen there stands on the mountain side a medieval castle, with turrets at the corners and a great square tower in the center: the red-tiled roofs contrasting with the green of the surrounding trees. This is Schloss Pallaus, the residence of Baron and Baroness von Schonberg. Baron von Schonberg is a chamberlain to H. H. the Pope, and represents the King of Saxony at the Vatican. The The Baroness was Elizabeth Ward, daughter of the late Samue! G. Ward of Boston and Washington. The king and royal family of Saxony have spent several summers at Seis, a village romantically situated above Brixen in that remarkable region known as the Dolomites. While at Seis they pay a visit each year to Schloss Pallaus. The Schloss has square towers at each corner of the encircling wall, and is still surrounded by the ancient moat, entrance to the courtyard being gained by a drawbridge leading to the gatetower. The rooms in the Schloss, where we had tea one afternoon, are spacious, and have been restored in excellent taste. They contain excellent old Tirolese wood carvings.

A little higher than Schloss Pallaus is another very interesting castle-Schloss Ratzotz. This was originally a small fortified post built by the Wolkensteins, one of the most powerful feudal families of Tirol, in the 13th century, but enlarged later. It is so buried in the woods as to be almost invisible. The Wolkensteins are descendants of Oswald von Wolkenstein, whose sweet songs and deeds of prowess made him famous throughout Tirol many centuries ago. In wandering about Tirol, one constantly comes upon evidences of the power and importance of the Wolkenstein family, the present head of which is Count Os

wald von Wolkenstein, whose ancestral home is the splendid old Schloss Trostburg, to the south of Brixen. It is the Stamm-Schloss, and stands in a most picturesque and commanding position, surrounded by dense woods. In the level valley in which the busy town of Bozen, distant about twenty miles from Brixen stands, is a sturdy Schloss, with a round tower at each of the four corners, that was once a Wolkenstein stronghold. At Klausen, between Bozen and Brixen, where the valley of the river Eisak narrows to an easily defensible defile, is a handsome square stone house that was formerly a town residence of the same family. Count Ernest Wolkenstein, heir to the estates of another branch of the family, lives at Schloss Wildstein. As we have frequently been guests in the same house as Count Ernest Wolkenstein, who is well known in Newport and New York, we were much interested in Schloss Ratzotz, which, while by no means so imposing as Trostburg, is still quite spacious and picturesque. Sometime during the last century, Schloss Ratzotz passed out of the hands of the Wolkensteins, and for awhile was occupied by peasant farmers, who lived in the lower part of the castle, and used some of the rooms opening on to the courtyard as stables and cowsheds. Then Baron and Baroness von Schonberg bought it, and put it into habitable condition. After being rented to various persons for short periods, it became the property of Mr. and Mrs. Francis A. MacNutt, who had been spending the summers near Brixen for some years. They have thoroughly restored it, decorating it inside and out with excellent taste, putting on a new roof, building a private chapel, laying out beautiful gardens (terraced on account of the steepness of the hillside), constructing fountains, equipping the interior with a steam heating apparatus, hot and cold water, bath rooms and other modern conveniences.

Francis Augustus MacNutt is native of Indiana, who was educated at

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Harvard and was for some time in the United States Diplomatic Service as Secretary to the Embassy at Constantinople, Charge d'Affaires in Madrid, and in other positions. Mrs. MacNutt was Miss Margaret Ogden, a granddaughter of Clement C. Moore, the scholar, poet and musician, widely known as the author of ""Twas the Night Before Christmas" and "Lines Written After a Snowstorm." The first named poem was composed one afternoon while Mr. Moore was driving home from New York City, and was published anonymously in the Troy Sentinel of December 23, 1823. It drew enthusiastic praise both from grown-up people and children, and has been translated into almost every tongue. It is a curious coincidence that the legend of St. Nicholas and the Christmas nuts had its origin on the hills just above Ratzotz, the home of the poet's granddaughter. The legend runs as follows: Two of St. Ursula's eleven virgins, on returning on returning from the Holy Land, settled down in the hamlet of St. Andres and were re

duced to extreme poverty, their only sustenance being the herbs and nuts they gathered in the woods. St. Nicholas, passing that way one Christmas eve, met the virgins gathering chestnuts in the forest. He knew their piety, and when the women returned to their hermitage and opened the bag the nuts were found changed into gold pieces. This was the source of the legend of St. Nicholas rewarding good people with presents and originated the custom of decorating Christmas trees with gilded and silvered nuts.

To return to Schloss Ratzotz: The private chapel can be entered from the outside or from the yellow drawingroom of the Schloss. Its stained glass window is copied from the famous figure of St. Francis by Alonso Cano in the treasury of the cathedral of Toledo in Spain. The drawing-rooms contain many handsome vases and other works of art that were in the Pamphili-Doria Palazzo in Rome, where the MacNutts lived while Mr. MacNutt was Chamberlain to the

Pope. The principal window of the small drawing-room opens on a gallery which commands fine views of the gardens, of the city and cathedral of Brixen, of upland pastures dotted with farm houses and churches, of snowcapped mountains and glaciers towering above all. Along the river Eisak, now on one bank and now on the other, runs the railroad, but it is so dwarfed by the greatness of its environment that it is scarcely a disturbing element in the landscape.

One of the most attractive rooms in the Schloss is the library, where Francis MacNutt, who is a scholar, historian, antiquarian and playwright, spends much of his time. Here hang several notable portraits, among them being one of St. Francis Xavier by Murillo. This formerly belonged to Maximilian, the ill-fated Emperor of Mexico, and was presented to Mr. MacNutt by his tutor, the Abbe Fischer, who was Secretary to the Emperor. Another portrait is of Anne Carter of Shirley, the mother of General Robert E. Lee. This shows a pretty girl dressed in a blue frock in the Old Colonial style, and wearing a miniature of General Washington, on the frame of which is inscribed "From Washington to his beloved Anne." There are also portraits of Pope Innocent X and his famous sister-in-law, Donna Olympia, Princess of Valmontone. The two last-named portraits adorned Mr. MacNutt's study in the Pamphilos Doria Palace, In a corner is a marble bust of General Washington; while the books on the shelves deal almost exclusively with American history. The atmosphere of the room is distinctly American, and one feels that its owner, though he has lived many years in Europe and speaks four European languages besides English, is still an American at heart, clinging tenaciously to his American associations.

Mr. MacNutt is a brilliant and industrious writer, having published a translation in two volumes of the "Letters of Relation of Cortes to the Em

peror Charles V;" a volume entitled "Fernando Cortes and the Conquest of Mexico," which forms one of the "Heroes of the Nations" series; and a "Life of Bartholomew Las Casas." During the past summer he has been engaged upon an English edition of the old Latin Chronicle of Peter, Martyr of Anghera, known as the Decades of Peter Martyr. The book will be published in New York next winter.

Many distinguished persons are found among the visitors to Schloss Ratzotz. Mr. MacNutt has lived under most favorable conditions in many of the famous cities of the world, and knows notable people almost everywhere. The guest-book contains the autographs of royalties, bishops and prelates of the church, diplomatists and men of note. Among American names are those of Dudley Foulke, William G. McAdoo, Mrs. Seth Barton French, and Miss Amy Townsend. The list of European visitors includes the Archduke Maximilian, who played golf-croquet on the lawn at Ratzotz, and was so much pleased with the modern English game that, on his return to Miramar, near Trieste, he introduced it there.

Mrs. MacNutt is a charming hostess, and during her stay in Tirol each year holds informal receptions every Sunday afternoon. At one of the receptions my wife and I had the pleasure of meeting H. S. H. the Princess Odescalchi d'Orsay, a descendant of the famous dandy Comte d'Orsay, and widow of a great Hungarian noble; Princess Melanie Zichy-Metternich, a daughter of the great Chancellor who contributed so largely to the downfall of that scourge of Europe, Napoleon; the Countess Dessewffy, Count and Countess Oswald von Wolkenstein; Count Ledochowski and his brother, Monsignor Ledochowski, Canon of Olmutz; Count and Countess Hompesch (Count Hompesch was Austrian Embassador to Great Britain), Baron and Baroness von Schonberg, and Baroness Kuhn, wife of the Austrian Minister at King Manuel's court.

"He That Restraineth His Lips"

By Virginia L. Bonsall

I'

T WAS a strait-laced, deeply moral community, that took life seriously at all times, but every summer, when the crops were laid by, and temporal matters in such shape that it could take time for spiritual things, it had religious revivals when it brushed off the dust from its conscience and aired and sunned its morals, and set its soul in order generally.

At one of these meetings the neighbors noticed with growing surprise the interest shown by Lemuel Gale's wife, Elizabeth-something she had never done before in all the twenty years she had lived in their midst.

At that time, no woman in all the community was more respected, liked and looked up to than Elizabeth Gale, but it had not always been so, and she had never seemed exactly one of them, though if you had asked why, no one could have answered satisfactorily. For one thing, she was a total outsider, Lemuel having married her "way off somewhere," and brought her among them suddenly and unannounced, and her dress, manners and appearance had been so different from their established standards that they did not take to her at all, but regarded her with an eye of suspicion as an alien and a mystery.

She was so young then, so pretty, so gay, so worldly, so culpably attractive to the wandering masculine eye, it is hardly to be wondered at that the women soon marooned her in a sea of disapproval. Especially after the affair of young Joe Bailey! Joe had lost his head about her so entirely and thrown prudence and discretion to

the winds so utterly that they turned him out of the church, and would have done the same with her, only she was then not in it. It was a disrupting, unprecedented scandal that stirred the very depths of the outraged community.

But through all and everything, Lemuel had defended her and stood up for her, with an unswerving faith and devotion that in time had its effect in breaking down the barriers of suspicion and prejudice. And as time passed on, even the most biased had to admit that Elizabeth had changed. They saw that she honestly tried to conform to their crude and narrow ideals. She put aside her dainty ways with her dainty apparel. She sat at their feet and learned their hard and meagre economies. She served her husband and her children faithfully, and looked well to the ways of her household. And more than all, whereever there was sickness or sorrow or trouble in any form, there was always her willing hand, her ready counsel, her unfailing sympathy. And the past was lived down, wiped out, and forgotten.

Even Joe Bailey had long since been forgiven and taken back into the fold. He had married satisfactorily and settled down into an exemplary husband, father and church member, and if any remembered the days of his transgression, the recollection was nebulous, and free from reproach. Elizabeth had also long been a member, and a good one according to the rule, but she had never shown any particular interest in revival times, never seemed to feel the need of being shaken up

and enthused and revived like all the others; so, as I said in the beginning, there was surprise when at last, after so many years of quiet, patient serving she should rouse into troubled activity. It was as if the calm surface of a still, land-locked lake should suddenly break up into heaving swells. Through every service she sat with troubled eyes fixed upon the preacher's face in absorbed attention, as if weighing every word he uttered, as if every word was spoken directly to her. Whenever he asked all those who desired special prayers for their special sins to rise to their feet, she arose at once. When he requested all those who were penitent but did not feel themselves forgiven to kneel in their seats, she knelt at once, but when he called on any who had found forgiveness and accepted salvation to come forward and give him their hands, she only covered her face with her hands and wept silently. "Sister Gale is surely under conviction," one old member confided to another, "and I don't exactly understand it. She's a good church member and a Christian, if I ever knew one. To be sure-long time ago, you know-but that's got nothing to do with it. Sometimes I have suspicioned, though, that she's never really heard the call of the true spirit, and that call's got to be heard and answered before the way is made clear."

But one day they had an "experience meeting," at which the preacher called upon them all with impassioned fervor to confess their sins and cast their burdens upon the Lord, and every one present arose up one after another, and told of delinquencies and wrong-doing in the past, and forgiveness and peace in the present. And many wept, and some shouted, and old Brother Dobbin, who always got happy at such times began to laugh the "holy laugh," as he went about shaking hands with everybody, while the preacher continued to exhort them to confess and be forgiven, and cast their burdens upon the Lord! Suddenly, Elizabeth Gale arose to her feet. For one mo

ment she stood with her hands pressed against the back of the bench in front of her, as if to steady herself, her eyes lowered, her lips moving as if in silent prayer. Then she raised her head, and looked steadily at the preacher's face, her soft, dark eyes stormy and luminous with a strange, unnatural light.

"Brother Rumble," she began slowly, "the time has come when I can no longer keep silent. I must speak or my heart will burst within me! I must confess my sin and lay my grievous burden at the feet of the Lord, for I can bear it no longer on my own soul!"

"Praise the Lord!" shouted the preacher. "Yea, my sister! Come to the mercy seat, come to the sheltering arms!! All ye that are heavy laden—”

With a moaning cry Elizabeth threw out her arms with a gesture of wild supplication: "Brothers and sisters, if you will let me call you so this one more time!" she cried entreatingly, "for twenty years I have been a whited sepulchre in your midst, but the Lord has given me grace to open the door and bring forth the bones of my transgressions, humbly, and in sorrow and contrition."

"Amen, Sister Gale! God bless you, sister! A broken and a contrite heart is a precious offering to Lord!" shouted the preacher, but the eyes of the congregation were fixed upon Elizabeth in expectant wonder.

"When I first came among you," she went on steadily, "you thought maybe I was only vain and foolish, and after a while you forgave me and let me become one of you, and all these years it has lain on my conscience how I fooled and deceived you. I was a bad, wicked creature, steeped in vileness till I hardly knew the meaning of right and wrong. Don't blame Lem," she said earnestly, looking down one moment at her husband sitting beside her, his eyes upon the floor, his face quivering nervously. "Lem's not to blame he didn't know. I fooled and deceived him too. He didn't know anything about me except that I was

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