It appears that the ancient owners of the castle were most of them more noted for love of the chase than for being "instant in prayer," and one was so great a defaulter in this respect that, although he could always hear the notes of the hunting horn blown early in the morning and rise with alacrity to obey its summons, sad to relate, when the chapel bell rang for Mass, it was quite a different matter. One morning the bell woke him as usual, and as usual he yawned, and turned over in his bed for another nap, thinking, no doubt, pityingly of the folk who had got up early to attend the service. He had no sooner done this than he had a dream or vision of the old chaplain performing the service in the chapel, and of the devout worshippers gathered to listen to him. Then the triple tinkling of the Mass bell announced to him the most solemn rite of the service was being performed. Then came a rumbling noise, the very foundations of the castle seemed to shake, and the building to sway as though about to collapse, and the hundreds of windows rattled and shook. The knight, who was superstitious if not religious, terrified beyond control, shrieked aloud, and then tried to hide himself under the bedclothes in his terror. His cry was heard by some of the servants and retainers, who came hurrying to the room; and upon entering they were horror-struck to find their master dead, whilst upon his throat were the imprints of three claws, which had burned as well as torn the skin. The inference drawn was that the knight had been enjoined by some Heavenly spirit to rise and repair to the celebration of the Mass, but had resisted the Divine influence, and had been claimed by his master, the Devil, who had strangled him. Some marks on the walls of the room where he died were for years afterwards shown as those of the wicked knight's blood. There are many other traditions and legends attached to this famous castle, which is one of the several buildings in Europe making a claim to possess exactly as many windows as there are days in the year; but for these stories, interesting though they are as exhibiting the credulity, barbarism, and imaginativeness of mediæval times, we have not space. Not far from Tratzberg is the quaint, interesting, and flourishing town of Schwaz, on the right bank of the Inn, and overlooked by the Castle of Frundsberg. It was, far back in the times of the Roman occupation of Tyrol, a station of considerable importance and size; but after the evacuation of the country it gradually declined until the fourteenth century, when it was little more than a scattered hamlet of poor houses, with an inn for the accommodation of travellers who were too weary to proceed further on their way to Innsbruck, or who had been overtaken near the place by nightfall. [Sidenote: SCHWAZ MINERS]