Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1867-09-13
The Priests Tale.


hinge on which this story turns is so
great departure from the usual hab.
its of priests in the Church of Rome
as to be impossible, | wish to state
that the two chief circumstances-that
of a priest being seen to faint in the
confessional, and that of a priest
drawing a criminal into conversation
about his crime, and then taking part
in giving him up to justice-were re-
lated to me by a friend who is close
ly connected with the Roman priest
hood. There would be no merit in
such story if it were an invention.
But where stringent rules exist, and
it would be unjust to infer that they
are broken, there is good reason for
occasionally dwelling on the except
ions which, rare though they may be,
prove them to be sometime evaded.
| was on walking tour in the
Tyrol. My companion knocked up at
the village of Zell, in the Zillerthal,
and as we had not much time spare, |
left him to recruit himself while
went alone to see the waterfall at
Krimml. | was climbing the steep
track which leads out of the valley,
and gro aning little under the weight
Of my knapsack, as stepped from
one of the boughs Of which the path
is composed to another, when an old
woman hailed me, and offered to re-
lieve me of my burden. She was a
stronga and hearty old creature, though
bent almost double from a long line
of porterage. My knapsack was
soon transferred to the basket on her
back, and while | went on twice as
nimbly as before, the weight did not
affect her yisibly. | had full leisure
to observe the grand scenery Of the
glen, which she did not seem to no.
tice. When | stepped on a jutting
stone by the roadside and peered
over the precipitous side of the ravine
to the torrent dashing and breaking
some hundreds of feet below, | was
not sorry to have my back and shoul-
derS free from weight that would
have made Craning perilous.
AS we rose higher, the fr-woods
grew more gloomy, the sides more
abrupt, the roar of the torrent more
awful. We suddenly turned a cor
ner, and [ almost started at the scene
it opened. On the right the bank
had been followed out, so that man
might have lurked there without
chance of being observed till it was
too late. In front and behind you
saw nothing but the lonely path wind
ing painfully through the sombre for
est; and on the left a gap in the
trees disclosed a slide like the track
of a avalanche going straight and
sheer to the raging waters. The
place had fearful look; one could
not help imagining tales of horror
Heaven help the unsuspecting pas
senger who met danger here Still
there was a strange fascination in the
sight and thought, and | could not
help taking long and earnest gaze.
My old woman noticed it, and began
nodding her head significantly from
one side Of the path to the other
cay, ay," she muttered that's fall
sure enough. Ay, ay.'
Was it an avalanche ?" | ask.
ed.
She laughed feebly, and wagged
her head again.
An avalanche, precious gentle.
man, ay, ay, perhaps it was an avail
anch. No, no it was 70 avalanch
Though you may well look. And the
bank followed out so well just be-
hind the corner, and the tree just
above which one could slip behind SC
easily if he was not alone Ay
and where's the rock that stood
there ?"
This speech was uttered with such
strange gestures that | feared the
good old lady was wandering in her
mind. The look of the place evident.
ly effected her, and [ was not sorry to
move on a little briskly. She trudged
after me, but still continued her NUT.
terings. | could hear broken phrases
such as. It's in the stream now, you
can tell it from all the rest of them
the thunder it made, and the crash
but you heard his cry above it-down
in the valley, upon the pastures ]
heard it."
Ny curiosity was reused, and
questioned the old woman; but moth
ing was to be got from her, directly
She parried my leading questions
with skill that surprised me, and all
the time she pretended to an ignor
ance which contraSted oddly with her
former mutterings. So | turned the
conversation, or rather | allowed her
to turn it.
"That's my village" she remark.
ed, as we passed a few struggling
houses at great hight. "That's my
house." pointing to the dreariest and
most desolate among them.
"Where is your husband 2"
"Oh, he's dead this many year"
"Any children ?"
cay" she said, stopping short, as
fine lad as any in the country. He's
to be married next week to the pret-
tiest girl in Eel"
congratulated her, and resolved
to add a small sum to her hire for the
young couple.
"Ay," she repeated the prettiest
girl in Zell. She wouldn't have the
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