Seen from the tarn there are two gullies that cut the full height of the precipice from top to bottom. The lines of fresh scree that trail down from their lower ends show up plainly on the older _débris_ that marks the decay of this mountain wall. They both slope downwards towards the left when seen from this point, and are both obviously provided with variation exits at their upper extremities. That to the left was formerly called Robinson’s Gully, but is now generally known as the South-east Gully. There has always been a lack of originality in the nomenclature of such places, and with several routes on the same mountain the christener’s wits seem driven to all points of the compass. The second gully is a hundred yards to the right of the first, and has long been known as the Great End Central Gully. It divides half way up into two well-marked portions, the right-hand route constituting the main bed of the gully, and terminating at a huge notch in the sky-line. The left-hand branch as seen from below appears to terminate blindly in the face, but actually it leads to a deep and narrow chimney cutting into the top wall within a hundred feet of the main gully. [Illustration: G. P. Abraham & Sons, Photos. Keswick THE GREAT END GULLIES SEEN FROM SPRINKLING TARN (_Face page 90_)] Far away to the right, where the cliff has shrunk to but one-third of its full height at the Central Gully, a black cleft may be descried that leads from scree to sky-line. This is Cust’s Gully, indifferent as a summer climb, but always beautiful in the richness of its rock scenery, and especially interesting in winter, when drift snow offers a royal road to the top. Every one has a kind word for Cust’s Gully. It is only called the Cussed gully by ignorant novices who inquire whether Skew of Skew Ghyll fame was a member of the Alpine Club. When it is marked out by snow we can from the path just distinguish the great rock bridge or natural arch across the upper part of the cleft. GREAT END CENTRAL GULLY.--This wonderful ravine offers some special feature every winter. Its individuality changes so completely under the mask of snow, or ice, or rain, that an attempt to describe the gully by an account of any one expedition must of necessity be only partially successful.