29 AUGUST 1874, Page 20

CURRENT LITERATURE.

Tramps in the Tyrol. By H. Baden Pritchard. (Tinsley Brothers.)— If Mr. Baden Pritchard had only been less resolutely funny, he might have given us a charming book to be grateful for. Even under the vexation always occasioned by the unrelieved effort to make us laugh, the quaint scenes please, and little bits of picturesque scenery and characteristic manners pick themselves out from the broad-grin surface, and the dreary pleasantries of Black, White, Green, and Brown, to reconcile us temporarily with the author. But why does he date from "The Tittlebat Club," and why do the travelling quartet call themselves Tittlebatonians "? It isn't at all funny. Hero is one of the little bits one may enjoy in this book. It relates to Heiligenblut near the grand Pasterzen, with its background of glorious ice-peaks :— • " Heiligenblut looks very pretty in the bright sunshine. The snow- capped, majestic Gross Glockner in the background stands out vividly against the blue sky ; while the River Moll dashes along past the village at a furious rate, doing its daily work of turning numberless little mills erected on its banks, and on every tiny tributary of it capable of moving a wheel of any dimensions. The pastures are fresh and green from recent rains, and the dark firs, clothing the rocks to their summits, and the universal solitude around, give to the scene a sleepy air of repose, contrasting, by its quietude, with the restless motion of the stream, as it hurries on noisily and unceasingly. Heili- genblut boasts neither post-office nor telegraph-office. Happy spot! where seemingly you may have everything done for you by machinery, without having to pay for motive-power ; for one begins to think, from the number of mill-wheels driven by the whirling water, that the denizens of this peaceful vall8y must eat, drink, dress, and sleep by machinery ; for such a whizzing, and whirling, and twisting, and turn- ing never was seen within so limited an area. How the butterflies were flitting about in the bright sunlight ; quite another race of them seemed to live on this side of the mountains. Nothing worldly here everything as nature made it, and in the absence of all authorities, letters for home have to be entrusted to the fat and good-natured cure of the village, who stops in the pastoral work of feeding his brood of chickens to receive the missives promising faithfully to carry them down the valley to the nearest post-station the next-time his spiritual duties lead him that way."