DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62133#0139
THEY COME ! THEY COME ! 123
and garlands, and flowers. Upon the church wall was
painted in fresco a representation of the skirmish in which
an old Tyrolean and his two sons are being struck down by
the Austrians ; and above the tumult of the strife is their
apotheosis,-—Christ receives the three, who rise with gar-
landed brows into the pure light of heaven. As a work of
art it is very feeble, but, nevertheless, the feeling is beauti-
ful and poetical. A group of peasants from the Festival
came into the church-yard whilst we were there •, muttered
a prayer for the dead, and sprinkled holy water upon the
green mound. When, on our return, we reached the
meadow, we were again greeted by the unceasing rifle-
shots, and found the booths all alive with feasting, singing,
and drinking. Such was the second day of the Volks-fest.
Tuesday.—This afternoon the sun shone gloriously; the
Alps clearly showing their snowy peaks, as though scarcely
twenty miles distant, and the whole scene was really gay
for the first time. The terrace-mound and seats, as well
as the royal tent, now abandoned to the public, were
crowded with spectators, all eager to witness the “ Olympic
Games.” Ever and anon resounded the shots of those
indefatigable shooters, still shooting away at their wooden
butts; they, however, were no longer the objects of attrac-
tion. Tan was scattered over that part of the race-course
opposite to what until to-day had been called the Royal
tent, and this was the arena round which pressed an im-
patient crowd, kept back by green-clad gendarmes seated
on prancing horses. Already a very mosaic of heads and
faces lined the amphitheatre.
There was a cry “ They come ! they come !” and across
the plain, proceeding from the city, came a throng. Sounds
of music floated on the air, banners fluttered, and now
marched through the crowd, first, scarlet and gold-clad
musicians, then a band of youthful heralds, bearing the
blue and white prize banners; then little girls, with their
and garlands, and flowers. Upon the church wall was
painted in fresco a representation of the skirmish in which
an old Tyrolean and his two sons are being struck down by
the Austrians ; and above the tumult of the strife is their
apotheosis,-—Christ receives the three, who rise with gar-
landed brows into the pure light of heaven. As a work of
art it is very feeble, but, nevertheless, the feeling is beauti-
ful and poetical. A group of peasants from the Festival
came into the church-yard whilst we were there •, muttered
a prayer for the dead, and sprinkled holy water upon the
green mound. When, on our return, we reached the
meadow, we were again greeted by the unceasing rifle-
shots, and found the booths all alive with feasting, singing,
and drinking. Such was the second day of the Volks-fest.
Tuesday.—This afternoon the sun shone gloriously; the
Alps clearly showing their snowy peaks, as though scarcely
twenty miles distant, and the whole scene was really gay
for the first time. The terrace-mound and seats, as well
as the royal tent, now abandoned to the public, were
crowded with spectators, all eager to witness the “ Olympic
Games.” Ever and anon resounded the shots of those
indefatigable shooters, still shooting away at their wooden
butts; they, however, were no longer the objects of attrac-
tion. Tan was scattered over that part of the race-course
opposite to what until to-day had been called the Royal
tent, and this was the arena round which pressed an im-
patient crowd, kept back by green-clad gendarmes seated
on prancing horses. Already a very mosaic of heads and
faces lined the amphitheatre.
There was a cry “ They come ! they come !” and across
the plain, proceeding from the city, came a throng. Sounds
of music floated on the air, banners fluttered, and now
marched through the crowd, first, scarlet and gold-clad
musicians, then a band of youthful heralds, bearing the
blue and white prize banners; then little girls, with their