His report was not, even then, credited, but, as a precaution, a brigade of cavalry, with his battalion in the van, was sent out to beat up the enemy.  A short distance beyond Flint River they struck the Federal line, which attacked at once, without feeling—­a sure indication of strength.  The battalion was hurled back on the brigade, the brigade rushed across Flint River, and back into the infantry line, now throwing up tardy entrenchments at Jonesborough.  The rest is historical.  It was but one of the rash throws of the dice for that great stake, the watershed of the Ohio, and helps to show the principles of military action by which it was lost.

WILL WALLACE HARNEY.

SIMILITUDE.

  FROM GOETHE.

  On every mountain-crest
        Is rest: 
  In every vale beneath,
        No breath
  Stirs in the quietude: 
  The little birds are silent in the wood. 
        Soon, patient, weary breast,
        Thou too wilt rest.

EMMA LAZAROS.

OUR HOME IN THE TYROL.

CHAPTER XI.

One great feature of the Hof has hitherto been passed over in silence—­the other lodgers; for, truth to say, there happened to be a large family of tourists, who, following in the wake of their parents and grandparents before them, strenuously adhered year after year to the peaceful old Hof as their summer residence. Schwalben by name, they had English and American cousins, the swallows and martins:  they pursued a yearly routine of spending the winter months with other connexions in Algeria or the Levant, then, dividing into groups, returned to their various mountain or pastoral homes in cooler, more verdant lands.  Thus, on the second Wednesday in the month of May one family always arrived at the old castle of Neuhaus, giving a sentiment to the forsaken ruin which it could not otherwise possess, and about the same week a number of their cousins and distant connexions took up their quarters at the Hof.

[Illustration:  SCHLOSS SCHWALBEN.]

The swallows in the Tyrol pass for holy birds.  There is a tradition that their forefathers helped the Lord Almighty to build the firmament, but how and in what manner popular tradition does not tell us.  Being blessed by God and dedicated to the Virgin Mary, the simple peasant often leaves his doors and windows open to attract such valued inmates, seeing that peace and happiness enter with them, and lightning never strikes the roof where swallows build.  Should they forsake a house in the course of the summer, it is a sign of coining misfortune.  He who kills a swallow will lose father or mother.

A firm belief in the goodness of the swallows made Kathi honor and welcome the familiar visitants.  “They were no greedy guests,” she said, “for they always arrived when the bins of meal and winter provisions were empty, and in the autumn, as soon as they were filled again, they were off without bite or bit.”