Of special interest to most visitors who may be fortunate enough to be permitted to see Matzen and its treasures will undoubtedly be the famous figure of Christ upon the cross in the chapel; the library--one of the oldest rooms--with its fine Renaissance chest; the fine collection of old pewter; the hunting-room, with the many trophies of its famous "sporting" as well as literary owner;[23] and perhaps not without interest to most visitors will also be the stone table, once standing upon the place of execution at the other end of the castle, but now in the shadow of the great circular Roman tower, just outside the postern entrance from the garden. At this table in olden times, it is said, the owner of Matzen sat when dispensing justice to his vassals or retainers. Set in the wide valley, and girt around by trees, Matzen is one of the most picturesque as it is one of the most interesting and historic castles in Tyrol. There is not much to detain one at Jenbach, which is a small town at the entrance to the Achen Thal, on the northern, and the Ziller Thal on the southern, bank of the Inn. Just before one reaches Schwaz, one sees storied Castle Tratzberg high on a wooded spur of the Bavarian Alps, with its three turrets in line, seeming to overhang the rocky eminence upon which it stands. Up above the castle, scarcely visible from the valley, is the famous pilgrimage church of Georgenberg, which all who can should visit. The path, though toilsome, winds through a sweet-scented pine forest. As one nears the goal of one's pilgrimage, the way is marked by stations of the cross. One passes through a silent region, and, as one ascends, the pretty villages scattered below in the valley of the Inn are gradually and for a time lost to view. Scarcely any one is met save a stray pilgrim or some tourist curious enough to make the ascent, and no sound is heard save the soughing of the summer breeze in the pines and the tinkle of little streams or the water-music of the Stallen torrents. At last, through an opening in the environing forest, one catches the first glimpse of the white church, with its Romanesque tower and rust-red roof, standing on a steep and barren rock some three hundred feet in height, to reach which the covered wooden bridge spanning the deep ravine must be crossed. And what a shrine it is! An isolated tabernacle set upon a rock in a solitary place, and amid surroundings of the greatest beauty and impressiveness; shut out of the world and shut in with nature. The cross at the head of the bridge records the miraculous escape of a girl long ago who, whilst attempting to pick the fairest flowers for a chaplet to place upon the Madonna's head or lay upon the altar, fell into the ravine, a distance of over one hundred and fifty feet, and yet escaped serious injury when death seemed certain.