THE N URN BERG STOVE.
UGUST lived in a little town called Hall.
Hall is a favourite name for several towns
in Austria and in Germany; but this one
especial little Hall, in the Upper Innthal, is one of
the most charming old-world places that I know, and
August for his part did not know any other. It has
the green meadows and the great mountains all about
it, and the grey-green glacier-fed water rushes by it.
It has paved streets and enchanting little shops that
have all latticed panes and iron gratings to them ; it
has a very grand old Gothic church, that has the
noblest blendings of light and shadow, and marble
tombs of dead knights, and a look of infinite strength
and repose as a church should have. Then there is
the Muntze Tower, black and white, rising out of
greenery and looking clown on a long wooden bridge
and the broad rapid river; and there is an old schloss
which has been made into a guard-house, with battle-