with its appearance at the snowy Easter of 1893. Then it presented a broad, smooth, and, except at one point, an unbroken slope of snow, rising at an almost uniform angle. Now that the snow was gone, we noticed that it had hidden a perfect chaos of rocks, caves, trenches, cascades, and what not. The depth of the snow at one or two points must have been as much as forty or fifty feet.

As we were enjoying ourselves we did not hurry down, and by the time we reached the road the stars were twinkling in the southern sky.

BEN A'AN.

By H. C. BOYD.

BEN A'AN in the Trossachs can hardly be called a "mountain," if it is judged merely by its altitude. Not only does it fall short of the dignity of a "Munro "-that mystic, but occasionally fallacious, patent of nobility to which every ambitious Scotch mountain is now supposed to aspire-but it does not even come up to the level of an ordinary 2,000 feet hill, its height being only about 1,500 or 1,600 feet. Having regard, however, to the more important qualities, in the eyes of the modern school of mountaineering, of mountain sculpture and the character of the climbing to be had, I think that as you look up at the crags that command the Pass of the Trossachs, you will be ready to acknowledge that on that side at least Ben A'an is a most respectable peak. Contrary to the rule that usually leads one to expect the northern or eastern faces of a mountain to be the most precipitous, the crags of Ben A'an have a southern aspect. On the north and east the hill is connected by slight depressions with undulating ridges of heathery upland, while on the south and west it runs boldly down in rugged outline to the shores of Loch Katrine. As every one knows, the lower slopes that overshadow the eastern extremity of the loch, and form one side of the Trossachs Pass, are richly clad with luxuriant woods of oak and birch of surpassing beauty-a beauty which is at its height in the "merrie month of May," the time of the visit I am about to record, when the trees are dressed in their freshest green, and the leaves are charged with sap. Nature has indeed here dowered the earth with her utmost bounty, and scattered her wealth with so lavish a hand, that it is small wonder that Scott's poetic fancy was fired by the loveliness of the scene. But it is not for me to enter on a description of the features of that classic ground. They have been described once for all and immortalised in the "Lady of the Lake," where such readers of the Journal as are not familiar with the ipse locus can find the scene depicted in glowing colours, and enriched with the poet's

most exuberant imagery. I have been asked merely to chronicle a climb, and to that I shall accordingly address myself.

From the point of view of the mountaineer, Ben A'an obviously offers excellent climbing on its southern face, where the rocks descend abruptly for some 500 feet to the upper fringe of the woods. Impressed by the aspect of these rocks, as well as by the consideration that they had been unduly neglected in the past by members of the Club, (we could find no traces in the Journal of their having been climbed), Mr Gilbert Thomson, my brother, Rev. Arnold Boyd, and myself, arranged an expedition for Thursday, 21st May last, the Queen's Birthday Holiday, to see what could be done. Of the alternative routes by Aberfoyle and Callander, we chose the former, and had a charming walk over the hill-road to the Trossachs, past the shores of Loch Achray, and through the woods, before we reached the base of our climb. The day was hot, so we were glad to throw ourselves on the turf to cool down a little and take our preliminary survey. The lower rocks looked very steep and difficult, but they were seamed by several gullies that appeared to offer promising lines of ascent. Higher up, steep grass slopes led to a final pitch of rocks which terminated with the summit. Of the gullies referred to, two large ones right in the middle of the face attracted our particular attention; the one to the right looked rather narrower than the left one; both bore quantities of vegetation on the ledges at the sides. We roped, and Thomson, who had declared a preference for the right-hand gully, was invited to lead the way up; my brother followed, and I brought up the rear. The gully commenced with a slippery scramble up a rather rotten slope of grass and rock, then came a very steep pitch, with most unsatisfactory holds, leading up to a nearly vertical chimney, up which Thomson gallantly swarmed for about thirty feet only, however, to find his further progress completely barred by the overhang of the rock at the top. We, being comfortably posted below, cheerfully assured him that the thing was done, and that a bold spring was all that was required, but Thomson saw the matter in another light;

and on his pointing out that in the event of the failure of the spring, it would be to the detriment of our skulls, as the gully did not allow any escape from the track of falling bodies, we came round to his view of things, and persuaded him to descend. We resolved to have a look at the other gully to the left, and so, reversing our previous order, we made our way round to its base.

The initial stage was easy. Then it branched in two, the right branch being very narrow, and the left one wide; but as the rocks at the top of the latter had a decided overhang, and threatened us with a repetition of our former difficulties, we turned our attention to the alternative route. The absence of footholds was compensated for by the narrowness of the chimney, which enabled the limbs to be securely jammed in the crevice. About fifteen feet up a swing over to the right placed us on a short arête which formed the crest of the gully on that side; then turning to the left, a hot scramble up some grass and through some shrubs and trees brought us to the foot of another steep chimney about twenty-five feet in height. Thomson resumed the lead, and had an opportunity of displaying his skill in ascending the chimney in true chimney-sweep fashion, the chief difficulty being the dodging of a tree which grew at the top.

We were now on the upper grass slopes of the hill, and, our time being short, we thought it better to avoid the final pitch of rocks which still confronted us, and to take the easiest route to the summit. But our pusillanimity met with the fate it deserved. Our "easy" route presently resolved itself into a series of slabby rocks which gave us as much trouble as anything we had previously encountered. Thomson's engineering skill, however, was equal to all difficulties, and shortly before four o'clock we lay stretched on the heather on the summit, investigating the contents of the knapsack and admiring the view. The descent was made, by the watercourse (destitute of water) immediately to the east of the summit.

Now the record of our climb being complete, there is little need for me to dwell on the vicissitudes of the homeward journey, though in some respects these far eclipsed those of

the climb itself. The mental agonies that we suffered that evening, when the engine of our train, finding itself overloaded, treacherously deserted us, and left us helpless and fuming with wrath on Flanders Moss, and prospects of home and dinner and the cheery fireside faded into the uncertain future, the petty vexations and miseries, and all the minor trials of the road, that exhausted the patient charity of the veriest Job of our party,—these are subjects more painful to reflect on than interesting to record. Let it suffice for me to chronicle the bare fact that, notwithstanding the N.B.R., we did reach home at last, and the sorely neglected rights of the long-suffering inner man were at length triumphantly vindicated.