The chance of wandering into the wild places of the earth is given to few. But those who have once visited the Himalaya will never forget either the magnificence or the beauty of that immense mountain land, whether it be the valley country that lies between the great snow-covered ranges and the plains, where wonderful forests, flowers, clear streams and lesser peaks form a fitting guard to the mighty snow-peaks that lie beyond, or the great peaks themselves, that can be seen far away to the North, as one approaches through the foot-hills that lead up to them. The huge snow-covered giants may be a week's journey away, they may be far more, yet when seen through the clear air of the hills, perhaps 100 miles distant, they look immense, inaccessible, remote and lonely. But as one approaches nearer and nearer to them, they ever grow more splendid, glistening white in the mid-day sun, rose-red at dawn, or a golden orange at sunset, with faint opalescent green shadows that deepen as the daylight fails, till when night comes they stand far up in the sky, pale and ghostly against the glittering stars. Those who have been fortunate enough to see these things, know the fascination they exert. It is the call of the great spaces and of the great mountains. It is a call that mocks at the song of the Lotus-eaters of old, it is more insidious than the Siren's call, and it is a call that, once heard, is never forgotten. One may be contented and busy with the multitudinous little events of ordinary civilised life, but a chance phrase or some allusion wakes the memory of the wild mountain lands, and one feels sick with desire for the open spaces and the old trails. The dreams of the wanderer are far more real than most of the happenings that make up the average man's life. It may be the memory of some desolate peaks set against an angry sky, or of islands set in summer seas, or some grim fight with deserts of endless sands, or with tropical forests that have held their growth for a thousand years; it may be the memory of rushing rivers, or lakes set in wild woods where the beavers build their houses, or sunsets over great oceans--the spell binds one, the present does not exist, one is back again on the old trail--"The Red Gods have called us out, and we must go." There is no part of the world where lofty mountains exist at all comparable with the Himalaya. Elsewhere the highest is Aconcagua, 23,060 feet. But in the Himalaya there are over eighty peaks that tower above 24,000 feet, probably twenty above 26,000 feet, six above 27,000 feet, and the highest of all, Mount Everest, is 29,141 feet.