sleep again if I can help it, as I might catch cold.

4:30.--Hurrah! Just seen the sun rise! No end of a fine show. Long
bit of poetry about it in the guide-book, cribbed from Wordsworth or
somebody. Can't say the page, as I tore out the leaf last night to put
inside my boot, to help to keep my toes warm. Never expected to see the
sun rise from the highest spot in England. Awful good score for me,
though--very few do it, I fancy. Think of those lazy Cambridge fellows
curled up in bed and missing it all; just the way with these fellows,
all show off.

The sun's warm already, and I've left off my _Daily News_ and spare
shirt, and I'm just going to take the paper out of my boots; that is, if
I can ever get down to my toes--but I'm so jolly stiff.

Never mind, I've done it, and--bother that cough, it's made me break the
point of my pencil.

5 a.m.--Been sharpening the pencil with my teeth. Rather a poor
breakfast; never mind, I shall have a rousing appetite when I get to the
bottom. May tip that waiter possibly, if he brings the grub up sharp.
Now I'm starting down. I shall go down to Dungeon Ghyl the way I came,
I fancy. If I went down to Wastdale, I might meet those Cambridge
fellows again, and I wouldn't care for that. It would mortify them too
much to know what they've missed. Ta! ta! Scafell Pike, old man, keep
yourself warm. I'll leave you my _Daily News_, in case you want it.

8 a.m.--Been all this time getting half-way down. Can scarcely crawl.
Going up hill's nothing, but the bumping you get coming down, when
you're as stiff as a poker, and coughing like an old horse, is a
caution. Had a good mind to ask a shepherd I met half an hour ago to
give me a leg down, but didn't like to; so I told him I'd just been to
the top to see the sunrise, and it was a fine morning. All but added,
"I suppose you haven't got a crust of bread in your pocket?" but pulled
up in time. Pity to spoil my appetite for breakfast at Dungeon Ghyl.
Ugh! if I sit here I shall rust up, and not be able to move. _Must_ go
on.

10 a.m.--Top of Rosset Ghyl. Not very swell time to get from the top of
the Pike here in five hours. All a chance whether I get down at all,
now--I'm about finished up. Wish those Cambridge fellows--

Here the diary ends abruptly; but, in case our readers are curious to
know the end of our hero's adventure, they will be interested to learn
that at the identical moment when the writer reached this