If such is the nature of their country, what is the character of the people? Like all mountain folk, they are hardy, adventurous, and brave. They also cherish a high sense of independence. They live moderately and are frugal and sparing, but there is not much real poverty. A large class of the men still remain peasant-farmers, tilling their own land in much the same way as their fathers and grandfathers tilled it before them, by means of unremitting personal toil. Some, it is true, have learned easier ways of making a living, at all events during the tourist season, as guides, hangers-on to hotels, and so forth, but in the out-of-the-way valleys and off the beaten track the people are unspoiled, and tip-hunting is unknown. Roman Catholicism is the religion of the country and the peasantry are devout and simple-minded, sharing in the superstitions of their kind. Their chief amusements are social events, such as weddings and funerals, and they “enjoy” a funeral as much as the lower classes in England. Rough dancing to the tune of home-made instruments plays a large part in their lives, and the people are mostly musical. The peculiar jodelling of the mountains requires a trained ear and melodious voice, and the young lads learn to practise this art from their earliest years. They sing a good deal too, and singing and dancing go together. The men are born sportsmen and know the ways of their own wild hills almost as well as the chamois which grows yearly more shy and difficult. The name of the Tyrol in the ears of Europeans is synonymous with all that is picturesque and daring, with feats of hardihood and sport without equal elsewhere, and this reputation is not a reputation only but rests on solid fact even to our own times. The men and girls are accustomed to hard work and difficult ascents from their childhood, and, owing to the emigration of the men, much of the hardest work, such as timber-felling, hut-building, and the carrying of heavy weights, falls on the women. Mr. Baillie Grohman, who knows the Tyrol as few men know it, speaks of “rows of women with short pipes in their mouths, and elbows leaning on the table, drinking their pint of Tyrolese wine [in the village inn] after their hard work.” In the early spring-time, when the snow draws upwards on the mountain-tops, there is an annual migration to the higher levels in search of fresh pasturage for the herds, and those in charge of them gradually rise higher and higher as the summer waxes, living in the simple huts beside the feeding grounds, and cut off from all their relations for several months at a time. In very many cases these herd-keepers are women and girls, as the men have gone off to America or elsewhere to earn the money with which they may return in comfort to their native land.