442 OLD ALPINE JOTTINGS. 



This was my last excursion with Bennen. In the 

 month of February of the following year he was killed 

 by an avalanche on the Haut de Cry. a mountain near 

 Sion. 1 



Having work to execute, I remained at the iEggisch- 

 horn for nearly a month in 1863. My favourite place 

 for rest and writing was a point on the mountain-side 

 about an hour westwards from the hotel, where the 

 mighty group of the Mischabel, the Matterhorn, and 

 the Weisshorn were in full view. One day I remained 

 in this position longer than usual, held there by the 

 fascination of the sunset. The mountains had stood 

 out nobly clear during the entire day, but towards 

 evening, upon the Dom, a cloud settled, which was 

 finally drawn into a long streamer by the wind. No- 

 thing can be finer than the effect of the red light of 

 sunset on those streamers of cloud. Incessantly dissi- 

 pated, but ever renewed, they glow with the intensity 

 of flames. By-and-bye the banner broke, as a liquid 

 cylinder is known to do when unduly stretched, forming 

 a series of cloud-balls united together by slender fila- 

 ments. I watched the deepening rose, and waited for 

 the deadly pallor which succeeded it, before I thought 

 of returning to the hotel. 



On arriving there I found the waitress in tears. 

 She conversed eagerly with the guests regarding the 

 absence of two ladies and a gentleman, who had quitted 

 the hotel in the morning without a guide, and who 

 were now benighted on the mountain. Herr Wellig, 

 the landlord, was also much concerned. *I recom- 



1 A sum of money, was collected in England for Bennen's 

 mother and sisters. Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Tuckett, and myself had a 

 small monument erected to his memory in Ernan churchyard. The 

 supervision of the work was entrusted to a clerical friend of Ben- 

 nen's, who, however well-intentioned, made a poor use of his trust. 

 The monument is mean, and its inscription untrue. 



