brought us to a secure ledge, on which we promptly sat down to recover our wind and to indulge in a few minutes of well-earned repose. The sacrificial fires being lit, Collie, soothed by their pleasant restfulness, was fain to admit that even Ben Nevis has nothing to quite equal this Schrimd. A quarter of an hour later he took the lead, and climbed to the left round a peculiarly awkward comer. Beyond this, a little splinter of rock lures the cragsman forward. I found, however, that it could only just be reached by the tips of the fingers of the left hand, whilst the right was doomed to imitate the "evil one" and wandered up and down the face of the rock. This place was distinctly awkward, but the sight of Hastings, firmly planted on a broad ledge, braced my courage, and I gave a bold spring, and, after sundry wriggles, landed successfully on the splinter.
The rocks now became easy, and we could see that our way to the ridge was assured. The weather, perceiving that we were more or less independent of its vagaries, gave up making any further efforts to bother us, and moved off its clouds, winds, and other engines of torture towards the Bernese Oberland. We felt that these varied and satisfactory circumstances ought to be celebrated by a halt. I regret to say it was by no means the only halt; indeed our progress from this time forth was interrupted by such frequent pauses for rest and refreshment that our ultimate arrival on the ridge
