PREFACE.


Fate decrees that the mountaineer should, sooner or later, fall a victim to the furor scribendi, and since it is useless for a mere mortal to contend with the gods, I have yielded to their behests. A fitting reward has been allotted me; though the delight of wandering among the great snow-fields, of climbing the jagged ridges, and of plunging down through the primeval forest of some Caucasian valley, cannot be rivalled by the rarest fabric built of memory, yet the piecing together of old incidents, the interweaving of the laughter and the fears, the desperate struggles and the wild triumph of old-won victories, has tinged many a winter evening with the gorgeous colouring of Alpine sunsets and has knitted more firmly the bonds of well-tried friendships; to some extent, even, it has brought me nearer to that reckless, lucky, tireless youth, when the grass slopes, and the stones, and the other ills of life, had not found the art of troubling.

I fear no contributions to science, or topography, or learning of any sort are to be found sandwiched in between the story of crags and séracs, of driving storm and perfect weather. To tell the truth, I have only the vaguest ideas about theodolites, and as for plane tables, their very name is an abomination. To those who think with me, who regard mountaineering as unmixed play, these pages are alone addressed. Should they, in some dim after-glow fashion, reflect the joy and frolic of sunshine holidays, their utmost mission will have been accomplished, and pride will mightily inflate their author.

My sincerest thanks are due to those friends who have so kindly placed drawings and photographs at my disposal; indeed, I feel that my debt to them is wholly beyond expression.

A. F. MUMMERY.