CURRENT LITERAT LIRE.
The Climbs of Norman-Neruda. Edited, and with an Account of his Last Climb, by May Norman-Nernda. (T. Fisher Unwin. 21s.)—Some who read this book, and many who have heard merely of the author's tragic end, will probably wonder why men are so infatuated as to imperil life and limb by scaling mountains and conquering peaks, what is gained thereby and wherein consists the pleasure. This question is put and finds expression in the Press whenever an Alpine accident befalls. To which it may be answered that mountaineering is one of the most fascinat- ing and enjoyable of open-air recreations, and until the passion for adventure decays, climbing, for those that way bent, and possessing the necessary physical and moral qualifications, will be an irresistible attraction. True, there is danger ; so is there in fox hunting, steeplechasing, polo and football playing ; and it is no joke to be hit either with a cricket or a golf ball. Yet when anybody is killed while riding to hounds or steeple- chasing very little is said; not even the most Philistine of editors or the most timid of old ladies proposes to abolish either one or other. And, after all, the perils of mountaineering are not so great as is generally supposed. A few weeks' climbing in Switzerland or Tyrol probably involves less risk than crossing London streets daily for a twelvemonth,— always provided that the climber is sound in wind, limb, and eye- sight, in good health, and either an adept or an apt pupil Mr. Norman-Neruda was an experienced Alpinist, physically strong and organically sound, and he lost his life not owing to any danger inherent in the sport, but because on the occasion of his last climb he was so much out of sorts that at a critical moment his strength or presence of mind, or both, failed him In the first chapter of the book the story of the climb and its fatal ter. mination is told by Mrs. Norman-Neruda, who was as keen a climber as himself, and on this and many other expeditions his companion. The accident occurred when the Nerndas and Herr Theodore Dietrich were ascending the Fanffingerspitze in South Tyrol by the difficult southern route, which involved going up one of the so-called "chimneys,"—in effect, clefts or chasms in the rocks, often quite perpendicular, and in many instances affording the only means by which the higher points of the Dolomite Range can be reached. These chimneys occa- sionally offer so little foothold that climbers can progress only by putting their backs against one side of the cleft and their feet against the other, and literally " legging " themselves up. But though difficult, the route chosen was not deemed too difficult or, for practised mountaineers, dangerous. Mr. Norman-Nernda had twice ascended the mountain by the same way, and stood on its summit six times. But this time he was not well, complaining of pains in his head and shortness of breath, yet be refused the entreaties of his companions to abandon the attempt and turn back, thus breaking an accepted rule on which he had himself insisted,—never, save under compulsion, to undertake or persevere in a stiff climb unless you are quite "fit." There was no slip, nothing but bodily weakness or sudden faintness to account for the disaster. Mr. Norman-Nerada was leading, and had got BO far that he called down to his companions : "Now we've got it; the worst lot is past." But scarcely were the words spoken when he called again, this time in German : "I am falling, I am falling ; hold !"—then, without an effort to save himself, fell, struck his head against the side, and disappeared, With marvellous presence of mind, Herr Dietrich gave the rope a few turns round his arm and hauled in the slack, and the rope held. After fastening it to a boulder, he went down the chimney and found his friend unconscious and hanging over the abyss. All he could do was to lift and lay him on a "small sloping place," and go for help, which did not come until next morning, seventeen hours after the accident. His companions passed a terrible night ; they had no lights and little food, the chimney was dripping wet, very cold, after sunset darker than a moonless midnight—and the stricken man all the time either unconscious or delirious. On the follow- ing afternoon he died at St. Ulrich, whither he had been taken by a rescue party. The chapter in which this disaster is described is naturally the most thrilling, and by many readers will be found the most interesting. But the " climbs " are all interesting, some exceptionally so, for Mr. Norman-Neruda was a bold mountaineer and a lively narrator, and in default of virgin peaks to conquer, delighted in finding fresh ways to well-known suuunits, and o orcoming difficulties which had been deemed insuperable. Moreover, the book is profusely illustrated with' excellent photographic reproductions of Alpine scenery,
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