and he went on until he came to a small cabin probably used by the guide in summertime, but the door was locked, the padlock resting upon the snow; soon afterwards he arrived at the cairn which marked the summit of Snowdon.  It was very cold, and he was soon covered with the frozen particles from the clouds as they drifted against him in the wind, which gave out a mournful sound like a funeral dirge as it drove against the rocks.

He walked round the tower several times before he could find a way down on the other side, but at length his attention was attracted by a black peak of rock rising above the snow, and to his astonishment, in a sheltered corner behind it, he could distinctly see the footprints of a man and a small animal, probably a dog, that had gone down behind the rock just before the snow had frozen.  The prints were not visible anywhere else, but, fortunately, it happened to be the right way, and he crossed the dreaded “Saddleback” with a precipice on each side of him without knowing they were there.  It was a providential escape, and when he got clear of the clouds and saw miles of desolate rocky country before him bounded by the dark sea in the background and strode down the remainder of the seven miles from the top of Snowdon, his feelings of thankfulness to the Almighty may be better imagined than described.  He himself—­a first-class walker—­always considered they were the longest and quickest he ever accomplished.  He occupied two hours in the ascent, but not much more than an hour in the descent, reaching, just at the edge of dark, the high-road where the words “Pitt’s Head” were painted in large letters on some rocks, which he afterwards learned represented an almost exact profile of the head of William Pitt the famous Prime Minister.  He stayed for tea at Beddgelert and then walked down the Pass of Aberglaslyn on a tree-covered road in almost total darkness, with the company of roaring waters, which terrified him even more than the dangers he had already encountered, as far as Tremadoc, where he stayed the night.

We had a dismal descent from Ben Nevis, and much more troublesome and laborious than the ascent, for our guide’s illness had become more acute and he looked dreadfully ill.  It was a pitiable sight to see him when, with scarcely strength enough to stand, he leaned heavily upon his staff on one side and on ourselves alternately on the other.  We could not help feeling sorry for him for we had so recently suffered from the same complaint ourselves, though in a much milder form.  We were compelled to walk very slowly and to rest at frequent intervals, and to add to our misery the rain was falling heavily.  We were completely saturated long before reaching Fort William, and were profoundly thankful when we landed our afflicted friend at his own door.  We handed him his full fee, and he thanked us and said that although he had ascended Ben Nevis on nearly 1,200 occasions, this was the only time he had failed.