ion. The pious worshippers of the great god "Cook" regard the facilitation of the ascent as an unmixed good. The be-roped and be-cabined Matterhorn, the lie-in-bed-and-picture guide are welcomed by them as the earlier stages of that progress which will culminate in Funicular railways and cog-wheels. To ascend the Matterhorn in a steam lift, and all the time remember that brave men have been killed by mere stress of difficulty on its gaunt ice-bound cliffs, will be to the Cockney and his congeners unmixed delight. When they read of the early mountaineers, of their bivouacs, their nights spent in chalets, their frozen toes, and even of whole parties carried to destruction by a single slip, the halo of danger and suffering will seem to envelop them as they sit in their comfortable railway carriages, and they will feel themselves most doughty warriors.
Perchance even we of the older school should reconstruct our ideals. We are told that in a few centuries the English language will be a mixture of Cockney and bad American, why not also set about evolving a new creed of mountaineering? Abandon the old love of cold nights in the open, of curious meals with the hospitable curé, of hare-brained scrambles on little known glaciers and traverses of huge unclimbed ridges; and, instead, let us frequent the hotels and churches of Grindelwald and Zermatt, and, in the short intervals be-
