CHAPTER THE LAST. 409 



surely lost. It was fear, not giddiness, that overcame 

 me, and made me sit down ; for had I been giddy, I 

 could not have looked, as I did, into the depth below ; 

 but it was a feeling of horror at the place I was in, a 

 shuddering dread that I could not shake off. What I 

 drank saved me; without it I should not have been 

 able to free myself from that overwhelming anxiety/' 



But it is time this last Chapter should come to a 

 close. In it I have dwelt purposely on the particular 

 sources of joy for him who follows the game upon the 

 mountain, and the varied excitements that from time 

 to time will stir up his heart. In the others it was 

 my wish, while describing the art of chamois-hunting, 

 to give some account of mountain life ; to introduce it 

 as a fitting background, although not absolutely neces- 

 sary to bring out the principal objects of the picture. 



With regard to the accounts of each day's stalking, 

 it must be remembered that, with one exception, 1 

 hunted always in places whei;e the chamois had been 

 harried in the preceding years, and where conse- 

 quently scarcely a head of game was left. Success 

 therefore was difficult of attainment, though all the 

 sweeter on that account than it would have been 

 under more favourable circumstances. It is perhaps 

 well that it was so uncertain, for repeated fruitless 

 attempts teach more than the brightest good fortune ; 

 and, after all, one learns nothing really well except by 

 such experience. Be it not thought, however, that in 

 saying this I mean to exalt myself into an authority ; I 

 am well aware that, between my experience in chamois 



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