has nothing to quite equal this Schrund. A quarter of an hour later he took the lead, and climbed to the left round a peculiarly awkward corner. 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 called forth the utmost surprise from each and all of the party. We felt, however, that our first view of the crevasses of the Glacier des Courtes must be honoured by a lunch, and a more than usually protracted halt was unanimously decided on.
