It was dusk; and the mountains were reverberating with loud thunder-claps, while the rain helped to swell a turbid river that swept through the valley, and past the door of a small _wirth-haus_ or inn, known less by its sign of "The Crown," than as "am Sand," by reason of the strip of sand on which it was built. A cheerful looking, comely woman, clad in a superabundance of woollen petticoats, was busy at the stove, cooking the supper of a foot-traveller who read a crumpled newspaper at the window; while surrounding the kitchen-table, three or four peasants, who had been driven in by the rain, were hungrily supping milk-porridge from a large bowl common to them all. A pretty girl of sixteen,…
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