8(5 
BEN NEVIS IN MID-WINTER. 
that of the Lake 34-0°. The central portions of the tarn were, how¬ 
ever, frozen over. The wind was moderate from southward, and was 
travelling towards the eastern side of the retreating area of 
barometric depression, while the sky was half overcast with the loose 
storm-cumulus often seen in the rear of a disturbance. Shortly 
before one o’clock we continued our journey, passing the last swamps, 
and, leaving the region of the coarse-grained porphyritic granite, came 
to the district of the finer-grained rocks, graduating into felsite, which 
form the third in altitude of the five geological strata of which the 
Ben is composed. Near Brown’s Well, at 2,000 feet, we came to the 
main snow, which was very hard, and lay in great shelving banks. 
These, not having Alpine requisites, we had to cross with great care, 
hacking in heels and making steps. Poor old “ Robin Renzo” went 
slipping and sliding in the most ludicrous fashion, and kept “making 
leeway” all the way across. On reaching the Red Burn, at 2,700 feet, 
we found immense masses of snow on the south side of the ravine, over 
the ordinary track, and, considering discretion the best part of valour, we 
did not attempt to cross them, but pursued our way by a different route 
over loose rocks, and following the burn on its north side. With the 
rising barometer we were favoured with good weather and genial 
sunshine especially delightful, and the grey rocks, thickly dotted with 
the yellow lichen (Lecidea geof/mphica), gave a pleasant relief to the 
eye. When about 3,100 feet, a little before two o’clock, we came to a 
spring and grassy patch—a refreshing oasis in the snowy and rocky 
wastes—and grotesque globules and knots of ice had formed on the 
scanty vegetation around. The temperature of the water was 34-0°. 
Here we paused for a “ bite of meat,” and to drink freely of the clear, 
cool stream—the real mountain dew. Upwards again we plodded, 
over the snow banks and loose rock, slowly and carefully, and at 2 19 
reached the intermediate station at Buchan’s Well, 3,575 feet above 
sea. This far-famed spot, with the cairn surmounting it, was entirely 
covered by great hard slopes of snow; but my louvred thermometer 
box, four feet above ground, was just showing—safe and quite firm. 
With some difficulty I opened it and found the dry and wet bulbs 
both iced, marking a temperature of 27'3°. The wind had backed, 
and loose cumulus clouds were coming up from south-east by south, 
with a velocity of 2-0 on a scale of 0 to 6, and rolls and piles of 
mountain-cumulus lay over the grand stretch of highlands on the 
Atlantic seaboard. Some three miles away, far beneath, was the long 
narrow arm of Loch Linnhe reaching to seaward, at the foot of the 
dark mountains beyond ; while the yellow slopes of Meall an t-Suidhe 
below, clad with verdure, and catching the horizontal rays of the winter’s 
sun—beautifully in contrast with the pure white snow—gave a most 
pleasing touch to the picture. The aneroid at Buchan’s Well was 
25-472. I had now to remove the thermometers. Their screws were 
rusty and the stems hard frozen to their fixings ; but patience accom¬ 
plished the work, and they were safely stowed away in their boxes. 
Old Donald was now “done up” by the exertion, and we had to 
