Besides repairing the statue I also re-pointed the column from top to bottom. It is a splendidly-executed piece of work, solid granite throughout, and should have lasted for centuries, but the authorities have allowed an underground railway station to be excavated right at its base, and this must undoubtedly have weakened the foundations. I do not wish to pose as an alarmist, but I should not be greatly surprised if, owing to this cause, the memorial suddenly collapsed some day, like the Campanile at Venice. Speaking of statues, I had the task of repairing that of the first Duke of Sutherland. It stands out in my memory as the very coldest and most uncomfortable piece of work I ever undertook. The memorial is situated on top of Ben Bhragie, a mountain more than twelve hundred feet high, near Golspie, Sutherlandshire. The figure is of colossal size--thirty-three feet six inches from heel to head--and the pedestal on which it stands measures ninety feet from base to summit. [Illustration: THE BEGINNING OF THE END--A STACK JUST BEGINNING TO FALL. _From a Copyright Photo. by Gale & Polden, Ltd._ ] The time was mid-winter; there was five feet of snow on the mountain, and gale followed gale with irritating persistency. Ladders and gear froze solid during the night, so that it became necessary in the morning for me to chop my way to the top through the ice that had accumulated meanwhile. The ascent and descent of the mountain, too, proved so long and arduous that I could only put in about two hours' work in a day. Altogether, I was not sorry when the job was completed. [Illustration: CUTTING INTO THE TOOTING CHIMNEY--THIS STACK FELL UNEXPECTEDLY, ACTUALLY GRAZING MR. LARKINS'S SCALP AS HE SLIPPED FROM UNDER IT. _From a Copyright Photo. by The Sport and General Illustrations Co._ ] Personally, I consider there is more risk in felling chimneys and such-like structures than in climbing them; that is to say, when they are felled in "my" way. The old-fashioned method was to undermine the base and prop it up with timber. This was then saturated with a mixture of oil and tar and set on fire. When it burnt through, down came the chimney. The other way, which I may truthfully lay claim to have invented, is to cut away the bricks without under-pinning, keeping a sharp look-out aloft meanwhile. Sometimes I stand a small, straight twig upright in the gash. When this bends ever so little it is a sign to me that the thousand tons or so of masonry above me is inclining away from the perpendicular, and that its collapse is imminent. One has to be very careful and very agile. I remember felling a shaft at Summerstown, near Tooting. It was brick-built and circular, a hundred and forty feet high, and weighed about eight hundred tons. Experience has taught me that this kind of chimney can usually be cut about halfway through at the base before it shows signs of giving way.