A Journey to the Centre of the Earth

"Arne Saknussemm!"cried my uncle, "now, unbeliever, do you begin to have faith?"

It was totally impossible for me to answer a single word.I went back to my pile of lava, in a state of silent awe.The evidence was unanswerable, overwhelming!

In a few moments, however, my thoughts were far away, back in my German home, with Gretchen and the old cook.What would I have given for one of my cousin's smiles, for one of the ancient domestic's omelettes, and for my own feather bed!

How long I remained in this state I know not.All I can say is, that when at last I raised my head from between my hands, there remained at the bottom of the crater only myself, my uncle and Hans.The Icelandic porters had been dismissed and were now descending the exterior slopes of Mount Sneffels, on their way to Stapi.How heartily did I wish myself with them!

Hans slept tranquilly at the foot of a rock in a kind of rill of lava, where he had made himself a rough and ready bed.MY uncle was walking about the bottom of the crater like a wild beast in a cage.I had no desire, neither had I the strength, to move from my recumbent position.Taking example by the guide, I gave way to a kind of painful somnolency, during which I seemed both to hear and feel continued heavings and shudderings in the mountain.

In this way we passed our first night in the interior of a crater.

Next morning, a grey, cloudy, heavy sky hung like a funereal pall over the summit of the volcanic cone.I did not notice it so much from the obscurity that reigned around us, as from the rage with which my uncle was devoured.

I fully understood the reason, and again a glimpse of hope made my heart leap with joy.I will briefly explain the cause.

Of the three openings which yawned beneath our steps, only one could have been followed by the adventurous Saknussemm.According to the words of the learned Icelander, it was only to be known by that one particular mentioned in the cryptograph, that the shadow of Scartaris fell upon it, just touching its mouth in the last days of the month of June.

We were, in fact, to consider the pointed peak as the stylus of an immense sun-dial, the shadow of which pointed on one given day, like the inexorable finger of fate, to the yawning chasm which led into the interior of the earth.

Now, as often happens in these regions, should the sun fail to burst through the clouds, no shadow.Consequently, no chance of discovering the right aperture.We had already reached the 25th June.If the kindly heavens would only remain densely clouded for six more days, we should have to put off our voyage of discovery for another year, when certainly there would be one person fewer in the party.I already had sufficient of the mad and monstrous enterprise.

It would be utterly impossible to depict the impotent rage of Professor Hardwigg.The day passed away, and not the faintest outline of a shadow could be seen at the bottom of the crater.Hans the guide never moved from his place.He must have been curious to know what we were about, if indeed he could believe we were about anything.As for my uncle, he never addressed a word to me.He was nursing his wrath to keep it warm!His eyes fixed on the black and foggy atmosphere, his complexion hideous with suppressed passion.Never had his eyes appeared so fierce, his nose so aquiline, his mouth so hard and firm.

On the 26th no change for the better.A mixture of rain and snow fell during the whole day.Hans very quietly built himself a hut of lava into which he retired like Diogenes into his tub.I took a malicious delight in watching the thousand little cascades that flowed down the side of the cone, carrying with them at times a stream of stones into the "vasty deep" below.

My uncle was almost frantic: to be sure, it was enough to make even a patient man angry.He had reached to a certain extent the goal of his desires, and yet he was likely to be wrecked in port.

But if the heavens and the elements are capable of causing us much pain and sorrow, there are two sides to a medal.And there was reserved for Professor Hardwigg a brilliant and sudden surprise which was to compensate him for all his sufferings.

Next day the sky was still overcast, but on Sunday, the 28th, the last day but two of the month, with a sudden change of wind and a new moon there came a change of weather.The sun poured its beaming rays to the very bottom of the crater.

Each hillock, every rock, every stone, every asperity of the soil had its share of the luminous effulgence, and its shadow fell heavily on the soil.Among others, to his insane delight, the shadow of Scartaris was marked and clear, and moved slowly with the radiant start of day.

My uncle moved with it in a state of mental ecstasy.

At twelve o'clock exactly, when the sun had attained its highest altitude for the day, the shadow fell upon the edge of the central pit!

"Here it is," gasped the Professor in an agony of joy, "here it is—we have found it.Forward, my friends, into the Interior of the Earth."

I looked curiously at Hans to see what reply he would make to this terrific announcement.

"Forut," said the guide tranquilly.

"Forward it is," answered my uncle, who was now in the seventh heaven of delight.

When we were quite ready, our watches indicated thirteen minutes past one!

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CHAPTER 14

THE REAL JOURNEY COMMENCES

Our real journey had now commenced.Hitherto our courage and determination had overcome all difficulties.We were fatigued at times; and that was all.Now we were about to encounter unknown and fearful dangers.

I had not as yet ventured to take a glimpse down the horrible abyss into which in a few minutes more I was about to plunge.The fatal moment had, however, at last arrived.I had still the option of refusing or accepting a share in this foolish and audacious enterprise.But I was ashamed to show more fear than the eider-duck hunter.Hans seemed to accept the difficulties of the journey so tranquilly, with such calm indifference, with such perfect recklessness of all danger, that I actually blushed to appear less of a man than he!

Had I been alone with my uncle, I should certainly have sat down and argued the point fully; but in the presence of the guide I held my tongue.I gave one moment to the thought of my charming cousin, and then I advanced to the mouth of the central shaft.

It measured about a hundred feet in diameter, which made about three hundred in circumference.I leaned over a rock which stood on its edge, and looked down.My hair stood on end, my teeth chattered, my limbs trembled.I seemed utterly to lose my centre of gravity, while my head was in a sort of whirl, like that of a drunken man.There is nothing more powerful than this attraction towards an abyss.I was about to fall headlong into the gaping well, when I was drawn back by a firm and powerful hand.It was that of Hans.I had not taken lessons enough at the Frelser's-Kirk of Copenhagen in the art of looking down from lofty eminences without blinking!

However, few as the minutes were during which I gazed down this tremendous and even wondrous shaft, I had a sufficient glimpse of it to give me some idea of its physical conformation.Its sides, which were almost as perpendicular as those of a well, presented numerous projections which doubtless would assist our descent.

It was a sort of wild and savage staircase, without bannister or fence.A rope fastened above, near the surface, would certainly support our weight and enable us to reach the bottom, but how, when we had arrived at its utmost depth, were we to loosen it above?This was, I thought, a question of some importance.

My uncle, however, was one of those men who are nearly always prepared with expedients.He hit upon a very simple method of obviating this difficulty.He unrolled a cord about as thick as my thumb, and at least four hundred feet in length.He allowed about half of it to go down the pit and catch in a hitch over a great block of lava which stood on the edge of the precipice.This done, he threw the second half after the first.

Each of us could now descend by catching the two cords in one hand.When about two hundred feet below, all the explorer had to do was to let go one end and pull away at the other, when the cord would come falling at his feet.In order to go down farther, all that was necessary was to continue the same operation.

This was a very excellent proposition, and no doubt, a correct one.Going down appeared to me easy enough; it was the coming up again that now occupied my thoughts.

"Now," said my uncle, as soon as he had completed this important preparation, "let us see about the baggage.It must be divided into three separate parcels, and each of us must carry one on his back.I allude to the more important and fragile articles."

My worthy and ingenious uncle did not appear to consider that we came under the denomination.

"Hans," he continued, "you will take charge of the tools and some of the provisions; you, Harry, must take possession of another third of the provisions and of the arms. I will load myself with the rest of the eatables, and with the more delicate instruments."

"But," I exclaimed, "our clothes, this mass of cord and ladders—who will undertake to carry them down?"

"They will go down of themselves."

"And how so?"I asked.

"You shall see."

My uncle was not fond of half measures, nor did he like anything in the way of hesitation.Giving his orders to Hans he had the whole of the nonfragile articles made up into one bundle; and the packet, firmly and solidly fastened, was simply pitched over the edge of the gulf.

I heard the moaning of the suddenly displaced air, and the noise of falling stones.My uncle leaning over the abyss followed the descent of his luggage with a perfectly self-satisfied air, and did not rise until it had completely disappeared from sight.

"Now then," he cried, "it is our turn."

I put it in good faith to any man of common sense—was it possible to hear this energetic cry without a shudder?

The Professor fastened his case of instruments on his back.Hans took charge of the tools, I of the arms. The descent then commenced in the following order: Hans went first, my uncle followed, and I went last.Our progress was made in profound silence—a silence only troubled by the fall of pieces of rock, which breaking from the jagged sides, fell with a roar into the depths below.

I allowed myself to slide, so to speak, holding frantically on the double cord with one hand and with the other keeping myself off the rocks by the assistance of my iron-shod pole.One idea was all the time impressed upon my brain.I feared that the upper support would fail me.The cord appeared to me far too fragile to bear the weight of three such persons as we were, with our luggage.I made as little use of it as possible, trusting to my own agility and doing miracles in the way of feats of dexterity and strength upon the projecting shelves and spurs of lava which my feet seemed to clutch as strongly as my hands.

The guide went first, I have said, and when one of the slippery and frail supports broke from under his feet he had recourse to his usual monosyllabic way of speaking.

"Gif akt—"

"Attention—look out," repeated my uncle.

In about half an hour we reached a kind of small terrace formed by a fragment of rock projecting some distance from the sides of the shaft.

Hans now began to haul upon the cord on one side only, the other going as quietly upward as the other came down.It fell at last, bringing with it a shower of small stones, lava and dust, a disagreeable kind of rain or hail.

While we were seated on this extraordinary bench I ventured once more to look downwards.With a sigh I discovered that the bottom was still wholly invisible.Were we, then, going direct to the interior of the earth?

The performance with the cord recommenced, and a quarter of an hour later we had reached to the depth of another two hundred feet.

I have very strong doubts if the most determined geologist would, during that descent, have studied the nature of the different layers of earth around him.I did not trouble my head much about the matter; whether we were among the combustible carbon, Silurians, or primitive soil, I neither knew nor cared to know.

Not so the inveterate Professor.He must have taken notes all the way down, for, at one of our halts, he began a brief lecture.

"The farther we advance," said he, "the greater is my confidence in the result.The disposition of these volcanic strata absolutely confirms the theories of Sir Humphry Davy.We are still within the region of the primordial soil, the soil in which took place the chemical operation of metals becoming inflamed by coming in contact with the air and water.I at once regret the old and now forever exploded theory of a central fire.At all events, we shall soon know the truth."

Such was the everlasting conclusion to which he came.I, however, was very far from being in humor to discuss the matter.I had something else to think of.My silence was taken for consent; and still we continued to go down.

At the expiration of three hours, we were, to all appearance, as far off as ever from the bottom of the well.When I looked upwards, however, I could see that the upper orifice was every minute decreasing in size.The sides of the shaft were getting closer and closer together, we were approaching the regions of eternal night!

And still we continued to descend!

At length, I noticed that when pieces of stone were detached from the sides of this stupendous precipice, they were swallowed up with less noise than before.The final sound was sooner heard.We were approaching the bottom of the abyss!

As I had been very careful to keep account of all the changes of cord which took place, I was able to tell exactly what was the depth we had reached, as well as the time it had taken.

We had shifted the rope twenty-eight times, each operation taking a quarter of an hour, which in all made seven hours.To this had to be added twenty-eight pauses; in all ten hours and a half.We started at one, it was now, therefore, about eleven o'clock at night.

It does not require great knowledge of arithmetic to know that twenty-eight times two hundred feet makes five thousand six hundred feet in all (more than an English mile).

While I was making this mental calculation a voice broke the silence.It was the voice of Hans.

"Halt!"he cried.

I checked myself very suddenly, just at the moment when I was about to kick my uncle on the head.

"We have reached the end of our journey," said the worthy Professor in a satisfied tone.

"What, the interior of the earth?"said I, slipping down to his side.

"No, you stupid fellow!but we have reached the bottom of the well."

"And I suppose there is no farther progress to be made?"I hopefully exclaimed.

"Oh, yes, I can dimly see a sort of tunnel, which turns off obliquely to the right.At all events, we must see about that tomorrow.Let us sup now, and seek slumber as best we may."

I thought it time, but made no observations on that point.I was fairly launched on a desperate course, and all I had to do was to go forward hopefully and trustingly.

It was not even now quite dark, the light filtering down in a most extraordinary manner.

We opened the provision bag, ate a frugal supper, and each did his best to find a bed amid the pile of stones, dirt, and lava which had accumulated for ages at the bottom of the shaft.

I happened to grope out the pile of ropes, ladders, and clothes which we had thrown down; and upon them I stretched myself.After such a day's labor, my rough bed seemed as soft as down!

For a while I lay in a sort of pleasant trance.

Presently, after lying quietly for some minutes, I opened my eyes and looked upwards.As I did so I made out a brilliant little dot, at the extremity of this long, gigantic telescope.

It was a star without scintillating rays.According to my calculation, it must be Beta in the constellation of the Little Bear.

After this little bit of astronomical recreation, I dropped into a sound sleep.

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CHAPTER 15

WE CONTINUE OUR DESCENT

At eight o'clock the next morning, a faint kind of dawn of day awoke us.The thousand and one prisms of the lava collected the light as it passed and brought it to us like a shower of sparks.

We were able with ease to see objects around us.

"Well, Harry, my boy," cried the delighted Professor, rubbing his hands together, "what say you now?Did you ever pass a more tranquil night in our house in the Konigstrasse?No deafening sounds of cart wheels, no cries of hawkers, no bad language from boatmen or watermen!"

"Well, Uncle, we are quite at the bottom of this well—but to me there is something terrible in this calm."

"Why," said the Professor hotly, "one would say you were already beginning to be afraid.How will you get on presently?Do you know, that as yet, we have not penetrated one inch into the bowels of the earth."

"What can you mean, sir?"was my bewildered and astonished reply.

"I mean to say that we have only just reached the soil of the island itself.This long vertical tube, which ends at the bottom of the crater of Sneffels, ceases here just about on a level with the sea."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Quite sure.Consult the barometer."

It was quite true that the mercury, after rising gradually in the instrument, as long as our descent was taking place, had stopped precisely at twenty-nine degrees.

"You perceive," said the Professor, "we have as yet only to endure the pressure of air.I am curious to replace the barometer by the manometer."

The barometer, in fact, was about to become useless—as soon as the weight of the air was greater than what was calculated as above the level of the ocean.

"But," said I, "is it not very much to be feared that this ever-increasing pressure may not in the end turn out very painful and inconvenient?"

"No," said he."We shall descend very slowly, and our lungs will be gradually accustomed to breathe compressed air.It is well known that aeronauts have gone so high as to be nearly without air at all—why, then, should we not accustom ourselves to breathe when we have, say, a little too much of it?For myself, I am certain I shall prefer it.Let us not lose a moment.Where is the packet which preceded us in our descent?"

I smilingly pointed it out to my uncle.Hans had not seen it, and believed it caught somewhere above us: "Huppe" as he phrased it.

"Now," said my uncle, "let us breakfast, and break fast like people who have a long day's work before them."

Biscuit and dried meat, washed down by some mouthfuls of water flavored with Schiedam, was the material of our luxurious meal.

As soon as it was finished, my uncle took from his pocket a notebook destined to be filled by memoranda of our travels.He had already placed his instruments in order, and this is what he wrote:

This last observation referred to the obscure gallery, and was indicated to us by the compass.

"Now, Harry," cried the Professor, in an enthusiastic tone of voice, "we are truly about to take our first step into the Interior of the Earth; never before visited by man since the first creation of the world.You may consider, therefore, that at this precise moment our travels really commence."

As my uncle made this remark, he took in one hand the Ruhmkorff coil apparatus, which hung round his neck, and with the other he put the electric current into communication with the worm of the lantern.And a bright light at once illumined that dark and gloomy tunnel!

The effect was magical!

Hans, who carried the second apparatus, had it also put into operation.This ingenious application of electricity to practical purposes enabled us to move along by the light of an artificial day, amid even the flow of the most inflammable and combustible gases.

"Forward!"cried my uncle.Each took up his burden.Hans went first, my uncle followed, and I going third, we entered the somber gallery!

Just as we were about to engulf ourselves in this dismal passage, I lifted up my head, and through the tubelike shaft saw that Iceland sky I was never to see again!

Was it the last I should ever see of any sky?

The stream of lava flowing from the bowels of the earth in 1219 had forced itself a passage through the tunnel.It lined the whole of the inside with its thick and brilliant coating.The electric light added very greatly to the brilliancy of the effect.

The great difficulty of our journey now began.How were we to prevent ourselves from slipping down the steeply inclined plane?Happily some cracks, abrasures of the soil, and other irregularities, served the place of steps; and we descended slowly; allowing our heavy luggage to slip on before, at the end of a long cord.

But that which served as steps under our feet became in other places stalactites.The lava, very porous in certain places, took the form of little round blisters.Crystals of opaque quartz, adorned with limpid drops of natural glass suspended to the roof like lusters, seemed to take fire as we passed beneath them.One would have fancied that the genii of romance were illuminating their underground palaces to receive the sons of men.

"Magnificent, glorious!"I cried in a moment of involuntary enthusiasm, "What a spectacle, Uncle!Do you not admire these variegated shades of lava, which run through a whole series of colors, from reddish brown to pale yellow—by the most insensible degrees?And these crystals, they appear like luminous globes."

"You are beginning to see the charms of travel, Master Harry," cried my uncle."Wait a bit, until we advance farther.What we have as yet discovered is nothing—onwards, my boy, onwards!"

It would have been a far more correct and appropriate expression, had he said, "let us slide," for we were going down an inclined plane with perfect ease.The compass indicated that we were moving in a southeasterly direction.The flow of lava had never turned to the right or the left.It had the inflexibility of a straight line.

Nevertheless, to my surprise, we found no perceptible increase in heat.This proved the theories of Humphry Davy to be founded on truth, and more than once I found myself examining the thermometer in silent astonishment.

Two hours after our departure it only marked fifty-four degrees Fahrenheit.I had every reason to believe from this that our descent was far more horizontal than vertical.As for discovering the exact depth to which we had attained, nothing could be easier.The Professor as he advanced measured the angles of deviation and inclination; but he kept the result of his observations to himself.

About eight o'clock in the evening, my uncle gave the signal for halting.Hans seated himself on the ground.The lamps were hung to fissures in the lava rock.We were now in a large cavern where air was not wanting.On the contrary, it abounded.What could be the cause of this—to what atmospheric agitation could be ascribed this draught?But this was a question which I did not care to discuss just then.Fatigue and hunger made me incapable of reasoning.An unceasing march of seven hours had not been kept up without great exhaustion.I was really and truly worn out; and delighted enough I was to hear the word Halt.

Hans laid out some provisions on a lump of lava, and we each supped with keen relish.One thing, however, caused us great uneasiness—our water reserve was already half exhausted.My uncle had full confidence in finding subterranean resources, but hitherto we had completely failed in so doing.I could not help calling my uncle's attention to the circumstance.

"And you are surprised at this total absence of springs?"he said.

"Doubtless—I am very uneasy on the point.We have certainly not enough water to last us five days."

"Be quite easy on that matter," continued my uncle."I answer for it we shall find plenty of water—in fact, far more than we shall want."

"But when?"

"When we once get through this crust of lava.How can you expect springs to force their way through these solid stone walls?"

"But what is there to prove that this concrete mass of lava does not extend to the centre of the earth?I don't think we have as yet done much in a vertical way."

"What puts that into your head, my boy?"asked my uncle mildly.

"Well, it appears to me that if we had descended very far below the level of the sea—we should find it rather hotter than we have."

"According to your system," said my uncle; "but what does the thermometer say?"

"Scarcely fifteen degrees by Reaumur, which is only an increase of nine since our departure."

"Well, and what conclusion does that bring you to?"inquired the Professor.

"The deduction I draw from this is very simple.According to the most exact observations, the augmentation of the temperature of the interior of the earth is one degree for every hundred feet.But certain local causes may considerably modify this figure.Thus at Yakoust in Siberia, it has been remarked that the heat increases a degree every thirty-six feet.The difference evidently depends on the conductibility of certain rocks.In the neighborhood of an extinct volcano, it has been remarked that the elevation of temperature was only one degree in every five-and-twenty feet.Let us, then, go upon this calculation—which is the most favorable—and calculate."

"Calculate away, my boy."

"Nothing easier," said I, pulling out my notebook and pencil."Nine times one hundred and twenty-five feet make a depth of eleven hundred and twenty-five feet."

"Archimedes could not have spoken more geometrically."

"Well?"

"Well, according to my observations, we are at least ten thousand feet below the level of the sea."

"Can it be possible?"

"Either my calculation is correct, or there is no truth in figures."

The calculations of the Professor were perfectly correct.We were already six thousand feet deeper down in the bowels of the earth than anyone had ever been before.The lowest known depth to which man had hitherto penetrated was in the mines of Kitzbuhel, in the Tirol, and those of Wurttemberg.

The temperature, which should have been eighty-one, was in this place only fifteen.This was a matter for serious consideration.

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CHAPTER 16

THE EASTERN TUNNEL

The next day was Tuesday, the 30th of June—and at six o'clock in the morning we resumed our journey.

We still continued to follow the gallery of lava, a perfect natural pathway, as easy of descent as some of those inclined planes which, in very old German houses, serve the purpose of staircases.This went on until seventeen minutes past twelve, the precise instant at which we rejoined Hans, who, having been somewhat in advance, had suddenly stopped.

"At last," cried my uncle, "we have reached the end of the shaft."

I looked wonderingly about me.We were in the centre of four cross paths—somber and narrow tunnels.The question now arose as to which it was wise to take; and this of itself was no small difficulty.

My uncle, who did not wish to appear to have any hesitation about the matter before myself or the guide, at once made up his mind.He pointed quietly to the eastern tunnel; and, without delay, we entered within its gloomy recesses.

Besides, had he entertained any feeling of hesitation it might have been prolonged indefinitely, for there was no indication by which to determine on a choice.It was absolutely necessary to trust to chance and good fortune!

The descent of this obscure and narrow gallery was very gradual and winding.Sometimes we gazed through a succession of arches, its course very like the aisles of a Gothic cathedral.The great artistic sculptors and builders of the Middle Ages might have here completed their studies with advantage.Many most beautiful and suggestive ideas of architectural beauty would have been discovered by them.After passing through this phase of the cavernous way, we suddenly came, about a mile farther on, upon a square system of arch, adopted by the early Romans, projecting from the solid rock, and keeping up the weight of the roof.

Suddenly we would come upon a series of low subterranean tunnels which looked like beaver holes, or the work of foxes—through whose narrow and winding ways we had literally to crawl!

The heat still remained at quite a supportable degree.With an involuntary shudder, I reflected on what the heat must have been when the volcano of Sneffels was pouring its smoke, flames, and streams of boiling lava—all of which must have come up by the road we were now following.I could imagine the torrents of hot seething stone darting on, bubbling up with accompaniments of smoke, steam, and sulphurous stench!

"Only to think of the consequences," I mused, "if the old volcano were once more to set to work."

I did not communicate these rather unpleasant reflections to my uncle.He not only would not have understood them, but would have been intensely disgusted.His only idea was to go ahead.He walked, he slid, he clambered over piles of fragments, he rolled down heaps of broken lava, with an earnestness and conviction it was impossible not to admire.

At six o'clock in the evening, after a very wearisome journey, but one not so fatiguing as before, we had made six miles towards the southward, but had not gone more than a mile downwards.

My uncle, as usual, gave the signal to halt.We ate our meal in thoughtful silence, and then retired to sleep.

Our arrangements for the night were very primitive and simple.A traveling rug, in which each rolled himself, was all our bedding.We had no necessity to fear cold or any unpleasant visit.Travelers who bury themselves in the wilds and depths of the African desert, who seek profit and pleasure in the forests of the New World, are compelled to take it in turn to watch during the hours of sleep; but in this region of the earth absolute solitude and complete security reigned supreme.

We had nothing to fear either from savages or from wild beasts.

After a night's sweet repose, we awoke fresh and ready for action.There being nothing to detain us, we started on our journey.We continued to burrow through the lava tunnel as before.It was impossible to make out through what soil we were making way.The tunnel, moreover, instead of going down into the bowels of the earth, became absolutely horizontal.

I even thought, after some examination, that we were actually tending upwards.About ten o'clock in the day this state of things became so clear that, finding the change very fatiguing, I was obliged to slacken my pace and finally come to a halt.

"Well," said the Professor quickly, "what is the matter?"

"The fact is, I am dreadfully tired," was my earnest reply.

"What," cried my uncle, "tired after a three hours' walk, and by so easy a road?"

"Easy enough, I dare say, but very fatiguing."

"But how can that be, when all we have to do is to go downwards."

"I beg your pardon, sir.For some time I have noticed that we are going upwards."

"Upwards," cried my uncle, shrugging his shoulders, "how can that be?"

"There can be no doubt about it.For the last half hour the slopes have been upward—and if we go on in this way much longer we shall find ourselves back in Iceland."

My uncle shook his head with the air of a man who does not want to be convinced.I tried to continue the conversation.He would not answer me, but once more gave the signal for departure.His silence I thought was only caused by concentrated ill-temper.

However this might be, I once more took up my load, and boldly and resolutely followed Hans, who was now in advance of my uncle.I did not like to be beaten or even distanced.I was naturally anxious not to lose sight of my companions.The very idea of being left behind, lost in that terrible labyrinth, made me shiver as with the ague.

Besides, if the ascending path was more arduous and painful to clamber, I had one source of secret consolation and delight.It was to all appearance taking us back to the surface of the earth.That of itself was hopeful.Every step I took confirmed me in my belief, and I began already to build castles in the air in relation to my marriage with my pretty little cousin.

About twelve o'clock there was a great and sudden change in the aspect of the rocky sides of the gallery.I first noticed it from the diminution of the rays of light which cast back the reflection of the lamp.From being coated with shining and resplendent lava, it became living rock.The sides were sloping walls, which sometimes became quite vertical.

We were now in what the geological professors call a state of transition, in the period of Silurian stones, so called because this specimen of early formation is very common in England in the counties formerly inhabited by the Celtic nation known as Silures.

"I can see clearly now," I cried; "the sediment from the waters which once covered the whole earth formed during the second period of its existence these schists and these calcareous rocks.We are turning our backs on the granite rocks, and are like people from Hamburg who would go to Lubeck by way of Hanover."

I might just as well have kept my observations to myself.My geological enthusiasm got the better, however, of my cooler judgment, and Professor Hardwigg heard my observations.

"What is the matter now?"he said, in a tone of great gravity.

"Well," cried I, "do you not see these different layers of calcareous rocks and the first indication of slate strata?"

"Well; what then?"

"We have arrived at that period of the world's existence when the first plants and the first animals made their appearance."

"You think so?"

"Yes, look; examine and judge for yourself."

I induced the Professor with some difficulty to cast the light of his lamp on the sides of the long winding gallery.I expected some exclamation to burst from his lips.I was very much mistaken.The worthy Professor never spoke a word.

It was impossible to say whether he understood me or not.Perhaps it was possible that in his pride—my uncle and a learned professor—he did not like to own that he was wrong in having chosen the eastern tunnel, or was he determined at any price to go to the end of it?It was quite evident we had left the region of lava, and that the road by which we were going could not take us back to the great crater of Mount Sneffels.

As we went along I could not help ruminating on the whole question, and asked myself if I did not lay too great a stress on these sudden and peculiar modifications of the earth's crust.

After all, I was very likely to be mistaken—and it was within the range of probability and possibility that we were not making our way through the strata of rocks which I believed I recognized piled on the lower layer of granitic formation.

"At all events, if I am right," I thought to myself, "I must certainly find some remains of primitive plants, and it will be absolutely necessary to give way to such indubitable evidence.Let us have a good search."

I accordingly lost no opportunity of searching, and had not gone more than about a hundred yards, when the evidence I sought for cropped up in the most incontestable manner before my eyes.It was quite natural that I should expect to find these signs, for during the Silurian period the seas contained no fewer than fifteen hundred different animal and vegetable species.My feet, so long accustomed to the hard and arid lava soil, suddenly found themselves treading on a kind of soft dust, the remains of plants and shells.

Upon the walls themselves I could clearly make out the outline, as plain as a sun picture, of the fucus and the lycopods.The worthy and excellent Professor Hardwigg could not of course make any mistake about the matter; but I believe he deliberately closed his eyes, and continued on his way with a firm and unalterable step.

I began to think that he was carrying his obstinacy a great deal too far.I could no longer act with prudence or composure.I stooped on a sudden and picked up an almost perfect shell, which had undoubtedly belonged to some animal very much resembling some of the present day.Having secured the prize, I followed in the wake of my uncle.

"Do you see this?"I said.

"Well, said the Professor, with the most imperturbable tranquillity, "it is the shell of a crustaceous animal of the extinct order of the trilobites; nothing more, I assure you."

"But," cried I, much troubled at his coolness, "do you draw no conclusion from it?"

"Well, if I may ask, what conclusion do you draw from it yourself?"

"Well, I thought—"

"I know, my boy, what you would say, and you are right, perfectly and incontestably right.We have finally abandoned the crust of lava and the road by which the lava ascended.It is quite possible that I may have been mistaken, but I shall be unable to discover my error until I get to the end of this gallery."

"You are quite right as far as that is concerned," I replied, "and I should highly approve of your decision, if we had not to fear the greatest of all dangers."

"And what is that?"

"Want of water."

"Well, my dear Henry, it can't be helped.We must put ourselves on rations."

And on he went.

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CHAPTER 17

DEEPER AND DEEPER—THE COAL MINE

In truth, we were compelled to put ourselves upon rations.Our supply would certainly last not more than three days.I found this out about supper time.The worst part of the matter was that, in what is called the transition rocks, it was hardly to be expected we should meet with water!

I had read of the horrors of thirst, and I knew that where we were, a brief trial of its sufferings would put an end to our adventures—and our lives!But it was utterly useless to discuss the matter with my uncle.He would have answered by some axiom from Plato.

During the whole of next day we proceeded on our journey through this interminable gallery, arch after arch, tunnel after tunnel.We journeyed without exchanging a word.We had become as mute and reticent as Hans, our guide.

The road had no longer an upward tendency; at all events, if it had, it was not to be made out very clearly.Sometimes there could be no doubt that we were going downwards.But this inclination was scarcely to be distinguished, and was by no means reassuring to the Professor, because the character of the strata was in no wise modified, and the transition character of the rocks became more and more marked.

It was a glorious sight to see how the electric light brought out the sparkles in the walls of the calcareous rocks, and the old red sandstone.One might have fancied oneself in one of those deep cuttings in Devonshire, which have given their name to this kind of soil.Some magnificent specimens of marble projected from the sides of the gallery: some of an agate grey with white veins of variegated character, others of a yellow spotted color, with red veins; farther off might be seen samples of color in which cherry-tinted seams were to be found in all their brightest shades.

The greater number of these marbles were stamped with the marks of primitive animals.Since the previous evening, nature and creation had made considerable progress.Instead of the rudimentary trilobites, I perceived the remains of a more perfect order.Among others, the fish in which the eye of a geologist has been able to discover the first form of the reptile.

The Devonian seas were inhabited by a vast number of animals of this species, which were deposited in tens of thousands in the rocks of new formation.

It was quite evident to me that we were ascending the scale of animal life of which man forms the summit.My excellent uncle, the Professor, appeared not to take notice of these warnings.He was determined at any risk to proceed.

He must have been in expectation of one of two things; either that a vertical well was about to open under his feet, and thus allow him to continue his descent, or that some insurmountable obstacle would compel us to stop and go back by the road we had so long traveled.But evening came again, and, to my horror, neither hope was doomed to be realized!

On Friday, after a night when I began to feel the gnawing agony of thirst, and when in consequence appetite decreased, our little band rose and once more followed the turnings and windings, the ascents and descents, of this interminable gallery.All were silent and gloomy.I could see that even my uncle had ventured too far.

After about ten hours of further progress—a progress dull and monotonous to the last degree—I remarked that the reverberation, and reflection of our lamps upon the sides of the tunnel, had singularly diminished.The marble, the schist, the calcareous rocks, the red sandstone, had disappeared, leaving in their places a dark and gloomy wall, somber and without brightness.When we reached a remarkably narrow part of the tunnel, I leaned my left hand against the rock.

When I took my hand away, and happened to glance at it, it was quite black.We had reached the coal strata of the Central Earth.

"A coal mine!"I cried.

"A coal mine without miners," responded my uncle, a little severely.

"How can we tell?"

"I can tell," replied my uncle, in a sharp and doctorial tone."I am perfectly certain that this gallery through successive layers of coal was not cut by the hand of man.But whether it is the work of nature or not is of little concern to us.The hour for our evening meal has come—let us sup."

Hans, the guide, occupied himself in preparing food.I had come to that point when I could no longer eat.All I cared about were the few drops of water which fell to my share.What I suffered it is useless to record.The guide's gourd, not quite half full, was all that was left for us three!

Having finished their repast, my two companions laid themselves down upon their rugs, and found in sleep a remedy for their fatigue and sufferings.As for me, I could not sleep, I lay counting the hours until morning.

The next morning, Saturday, at six o'clock, we started again.Twenty minutes later we suddenly came upon a vast excavation.From its mighty extent I saw at once that the hand of man could have had nothing to do with this coal mine; the vault above would have fallen in; as it was, it was only held together by some miracle of nature.

This mighty natural cavern was about a hundred feet wide, by about a hundred and fifty high.The earth had evidently been cast apart by some violent subterranean commotion.The mass, giving way to some prodigious upheaving of nature, had split in two, leaving the vast gap into which we inhabitants of the earth had penetrated for the first time.

The whole singular history of the coal period was written on those dark and gloomy walls.A geologist would have been able easily to follow the different phases of its formation.The seams of coal were separated by strata of sandstone, a compact clay, which appeared to be crushed down by the weight from above.

At that period of the world which preceded the secondary epoch, the earth was covered by a coating of enormous and rich vegetation, due to the double action of tropical heat and perpetual humidity.A vast atmospheric cloud of vapor surrounded the earth on all sides, preventing the rays of the sun from ever reaching it.

Hence the conclusion that these intense heats did not arise from this new source of caloric.

Perhaps even the star of day was not quite ready for its brilliant work—to illumine a universe.Climates did not as yet exist, and a level heat pervaded the whole surface of the globe—the same heat existing at the North Pole as at the equator.

Whence did it come?From the interior of the earth?

In spite of all the learned theories of Professor Hardwigg, a fierce and vehement fire certainly burned within the entrails of the great spheroid.Its action was felt even to the very topmost crust of the earth; the plants then in existence, being deprived of the vivifying rays of the sun, had neither buds, nor flowers, nor odor, but their roots drew a strong and vigorous life from the burning earth of early days.

There were but few of what may be called trees—only herbaceous plants, immense turfs, briers, mosses, rare families, which, however, in those days were counted by tens and tens of thousands.

It is entirely to this exuberant vegetation that coal owes its origin.The crust of the vast globe still yielded under the influence of the seething, boiling mass, which was forever at work beneath.Hence arose numerous fissures, and continual falling in of the upper earth.The dense mass of plants being beneath the waters, soon formed themselves into vast agglomerations.

Then came about the action of natural chemistry; in the depths of the ocean the vegetable mass at first became turf, then, thanks to the influence of gases and subterranean fermentation, they underwent the complete process of mineralization.

In this manner, in early days, were formed those vast and prodigious layers of coal, which an ever—increasing consumption must utterly use up in about three centuries more, if people do not find some more economic light than gas, and some cheaper motive power than steam.

All these reflections, the memories of my school studies, came to my mind while I gazed upon these mighty accumulations of coal, whose riches, however, are scarcely likely to be ever utilized.The working of these mines could only be carried out at an expense that would never yield a profit.

The matter, however, is scarcely worthy consideration, when coal is scattered over the whole surface of the globe, within a few yards of the upper crust.As I looked at these untouched strata, therefore, I knew they would remain as long as the world lasts.

While we still continued our journey, I alone forgot the length of the road, by giving myself up wholly to these geological considerations.The temperature continued to be very much the same as while we were traveling amid the lava and the schists.On the other hand my sense of smell was much affected by a very powerful odor.I immediately knew that the gallery was filled to overflowing with that dangerous gas the miners call fire damp, the explosion of which has caused such fearful and terrible accidents, making a hundred widows and hundreds of orphans in a single hour.

Happily, we were able to illumine our progress by means of the Ruhmkorff apparatus.If we had been so rash and imprudent as to explore this gallery, torch in hand, a terrible explosion would have put an end to our travels, simply because no travelers would be left.

Our excursion through this wondrous coal mine in the very bowels of the earth lasted until evening.My uncle was scarcely able to conceal his impatience and dissatisfaction at the road continuing still to advance in a horizontal direction.

The darkness, dense and opaque a few yards in advance and in the rear, rendered it impossible to make out what was the length of the gallery.For myself, I began to believe that it was simply interminable, and would go on in the same manner for months.

Suddenly, at six o'clock, we stood in front of a wall.To the right, to the left above, below, nowhere was there any passage.We had reached a spot where the rocks said in unmistakable accents—No Thoroughfare.

I stood stupefied.The guide simply folded his arms. My uncle was silent.

"Well, well, so much the better," cried my uncle, at last, "I now know what we are about.We are decidedly not upon the road followed by Saknussemm.All we have to do is to go back.Let us take one night's good rest, and before three days are over, I promise you we shall have regained the point where the galleries divided."

"Yes, we may, if our strength lasts as long," I cried, in a lamentable voice.

"And why not?"

"Tomorrow, among us three, there will not be a drop of water.It is just gone."

"And your courage with it," said my uncle, speaking in a severe tone.

What could I say?I turned round on my side, and from sheer exhaustion fell into a heavy sleep disturbed by dreams of water!And I awoke unrefreshed.

I would have bartered a diamond mine for a glass of pure spring water!

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CHAPTER 18

THE WRONG ROAD!

Next day, our departure took place at a very early hour.There was no time for the least delay.According to my account, we had five days' hard work to get back to the place where the galleries divided.

I can never tell all the sufferings we endured upon our return.My uncle bore them like a man who has been in the wrong—that is, with concentrated and suppressed anger; Hans, with all the resignation of his pacific character; and I—I confess that I did nothing but complain, and despair.I had no heart for this bad fortune.

But there was one consolation.Defeat at the outset would probably upset the whole journey!

As I had expected from the first, our supply of water gave completely out on our first day's march.Our provision of liquids was reduced to our supply of Schiedam; but this horrible—nay, I will say it—this infernal liquor burnt the throat, and I could not even bear the sight of it.I found the temperature to be stifling.I was paralyzed with fatigue.More than once I was about to fall insensible to the ground.The whole party then halted, and the worthy Icelander and my excellent uncle did their best to console and comfort me.I could, however, plainly see that my uncle was contending painfully against the extreme fatigues of our journey, and the awful torture generated by the absence of water.

At length a time came when I ceased to recollect anything—when all was one awfull hideous, fantastic dream!

At last, on Tuesday, the seventh of the month of July, after crawling on our hands and knees for many hours, more dead than alive, we reached the point of junction between the galleries.I lay like a log, an inert mass of human flesh on the arid lava soil.It was then ten in the morning.

Hans and my uncle, leaning against the wall, tried to nibble away at some pieces of biscuit, while deep groans and sighs escaped from my scorched and swollen lips.Then I fell off into a kind of deep lethargy.

Presently I felt my uncle approach, and lift me up tenderly in his arms.

"Poor boy," I heard him say in a tone of deep commiseration.

I was profoundly touched by these words, being by no means accustomed to signs of womanly weakness in the Professor.I caught his trembling hands in mine and gave them a gentle pressure.He allowed me to do so without resistance, looking at me kindly all the time.His eyes were wet with tears.

I then saw him take the gourd which he wore at his side.To my surprise, or rather to my stupefaction, he placed it to my lips.

"Drink, my boy," he said.

Was it possible my ears had not deceived me?Was my uncle mad?I looked at him, with, I am sure, quite an idiotic expression.I could not believe him.I too much feared the counteraction of disappointment.

"Drink," he said again.

Had I heard aright?Before, however, I could ask myself the question a second time, a mouthful of water cooled my parched lips and throat—one mouthful, but I do believe it brought me back to life.

I thanked my uncle by clasping my hands.My heart was too full to speak.

"Yes," said he, "one mouthful of water, the very last—do you hear, my boy—the very last!I have taken care of it at the bottom of my bottle as the apple of my eye.Twenty times, a hundred times, I have resisted the fearful desire to drink it.But—no—no, Harry, I saved it for you."

"My dear uncle," I exclaimed, and the big tears rolled down my hot and feverish cheeks.

"Yes, my poor boy, I knew that when you reached this place, this crossroad in the earth, you would fall down half dead, and I saved my last drop of water in order to restore you."

"Thanks," I cried; "thanks from my heart."

As little as my thirst was really quenched, I had nevertheless partially recovered my strength.The contracted muscles of my throat relaxed—and the inflammation of my lips in some measure subsided.At all events, I was able to speak.

"Well," I said, "there can be no doubt now as to what we have to do.Water has utterly failed us; our journey is therefore at an end.Let us return."

While I spoke thus, my uncle evidently avoided my face: he held down his head; his eyes were turned in every possible direction but the right one.

"Yes," I continued, getting excited by my own words, "we must go back to Sneffels.May heaven give us strength to enable us once more to revisit the light of day.Would that we now stood on the summit of the crater."

"Go back," said my uncle, speaking to himself, "and must it be so?"

"Go back—yes, and without losing a single moment," I vehemently cried.

For some moments there was silence under that dark and gloomy vault.

"So, my dear Harry," said the Professor in a very singular tone of voice, "those few drops of water have not sufficed to restore your energy and courage."

"Courage!"I cried.

"I see that you are quite as downcast as before—and still give way to discouragement and despair."

What, then, was the man made of, and what other projects were entering his fertile and audacious brain!

"You are not discouraged, sir?"

"What!Give up just as we are on the verge of success?"he cried."Never, never shall it be said that Professor Hardwigg retreated."

"Then we must make up our minds to perish," I cried with a helpless sigh.

"No, Harry, my boy, certainly not. Go, leave me, I am very far from desiring your death. Take Hans with you. I will go on alone."

"You ask us to leave you?"

"Leave me, I say.I have undertaken this dangerous and perilous adventure.I will carry it to the end—or I will never return to the surface of Mother Earth.Go, Harry—once more I say to you—go!"

My uncle as he spoke was terribly excited.His voice, which before had been tender, almost womanly, became harsh and menacing.He appeared to be struggling with desperate energy against the impossible.I did not wish to abandon him at the bottom of that abyss, while, on the other hand, the instinct of preservation told me to fly.

Meanwhile, our guide was looking on with profound calmness and indifference.He appeared to be an unconcerned party, and yet he perfectly well knew what was going on between us.Our gestures sufficiently indicated the different roads each wished to follow—and which each tried to influence the other to undertake.But Hans appeared not to take the slightest interest in what was really a question of life and death for us all, but waited quite ready to obey the signal which should say go aloft, or to resume his desperate journey into the interior of the earth.

How then I wished with all my heart and soul that I could make him understand my words.My representations, my sighs and groans, the earnest accents in which I should have spoken would have convinced that cold, hard nature.Those fearful dangers and perils of which the stolid guide had no idea, I would have pointed them out to him—I would have, as it were, made him see and feel.Between us, we might have convinced the obstinate Professor.If the worst had come to the worst, we could have compelled him to return to the summit of Sneffels.

I quietly approached Hans.I caught his hand in mine.He never moved a muscle.I indicated to him the road to the top of the crater.He remained motionless.My panting form, my haggard countenance, must have indicated the extent of my sufferings.The Icelander gently shook his head and pointed to my uncle.

"Master," he said.

The word is Icelandic as well as English.

"The master!"I cried, beside myself with fury—"madman!no—I tell you he is not the master of our lives; we must fly!we must drag him with us!do you hear me?Do you understand me, I say?"

I have already explained that I held Hans by the arm.I tried to make him rise from his seat.I struggled with him and tried to force him away.My uncle now interposed.

"My good Henry, be calm," he said."You will obtain nothing from my devoted follower; therefore, listen to what I have to say."

I folded my arms, as well as I could, and looked my uncle full in the face.

"This wretched want of water," he said, "is the sole obstacle to the success of my project.In the entire gallery, made of lava, schist, and coal, it is true we found not one liquid molecule.It is quite possible that we may be more fortunate in the western tunnel."

My sole reply was to shake my head with an air of deep incredulity.

"Listen to me to the end," said the Professor in his well-known lecturing voice."While you lay yonder without life or motion, I undertook a reconnoitering journey into the conformation of this other gallery.I have discovered that it goes directly downwards into the bowels of the earth, and in a few hours will take us to the old granitic formation.In this we shall undoubtedly find innumerable springs.The nature of the rock makes this a mathematical certainty, and instinct agrees with logic to say that it is so.Now, this is the serious proposition which I have to make to you.When Christopher Columbus asked of his men three days to discover the land of promise, his men ill, terrified, and hopeless, yet gave him three days—and the New World was discovered.Now I, the Christopher Columbus of this subterranean region, only ask of you one more day.If, when that time is expired, I have not found the water of which we are in search, I swear to you, I will give up my mighty enterprise and return to the earth's surface."

Despite my irritation and despair, I knew how much it cost my uncle to make this proposition, and to hold such conciliatory language.Under the circumstances, what could I do but yield?

"Well," I cried, "let it be as you wish, and may heaven reward your superhuman energy.But as, unless we discover water, our hours are numbered, let us lose no time, but go ahead."

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CHAPTER 19

THE WESTERN GALLERY—A NEW ROUTE

Our descent was now resumed by means of the second gallery.Hans took up his post in front as usual.We had not gone more than a hundred yards when the Professor carefully examined the walls.

"This is the primitive formation—we are on the right road—onwards is our hope!"

When the whole earth got cool in the first hours of the world's morning, the diminution of the volume of the earth produced a state of dislocation in its upper crust, followed by ruptures, crevasses and fissures.The passage was a fissure of this kind, through which, ages ago, had flowed the eruptive granite.The thousand windings and turnings formed an inextricable labyrinth through the ancient soil.

As we descended, successions of layers composing the primitive soil appeared with the utmost fidelity of detail.Geological science considers this primitive soil as the base of the mineral crust, and it has recognized that it is composed of three different strata or layers, all resting on the immovable rock known as granite.

No mineralogists had even found themselves placed in such a marvelous position to study nature in all her real and naked beauty.The sounding rod, a mere machine, could not bring to the surface of the earth the objects of value for the study of its internal structure, which we were about to see with our own eyes, to touch with our own hands.

Remember that I am writing this after the journey.

Across the streak of the rocks, colored by beautiful green tints, wound metallic threads of copper, of manganese, with traces of platinum and gold.I could not help gazing at these riches buried in the entrails of Mother Earth, and of which no man would have the enjoyment to the end of time!These treasures—mighty and inexhaustible, were buried in the morning of the earth's history, at such awful depths, that no crowbar or pickax will ever drag them from their tomb!

The light of our Ruhmkorff's coil, increased tenfold by the myriad of prismatic masses of rock, sent its jets of fire in every direction, and I could fancy myself traveling through a huge hollow diamond, the rays of which produced myriads of extraordinary effects.

Towards six o'clock, this festival of light began sensibly and visibly to decrease, and soon almost ceased.The sides of the gallery assumed a crystallized tint, with a somber hue; white mica began to commingle more freely with feldspar and quartz, to form what may be called the true rock—the stone which is hard above all, that supports, without being crushed, the four stories of the earth's soil.

We were walled by an immense prison of granite!

It was now eight o'clock, and still there was no sign of water.The sufferings I endured were horrible.My uncle now kept at the head of our little column.Nothing could induce him to stop.I, meanwhile, had but one real thought.My ear was keenly on the watch to catch the sound of a spring.But no pleasant sound of falling water fell upon my listening ear.

But at last the time came when my limbs refused to carry me longer.I contended heroically against the terrible tortures I endured, because I did not wish to compel my uncle to halt.To him I knew this would be the last fatal stroke.

Suddenly I felt a deadly faintness come over me.My eyes could no longer see; my knees shook.I gave one despairing cry—and fell!

"Help, help, I am dying!"

My uncle turned and slowly retraced his steps.He looked at me with folded arms, and then allowed one sentence to escape, in hollow accents, from his lips:

"All is over."

The last thing I saw was a face fearfully distorted with pain and sorrow; and then my eyes closed.

When I again opened them, I saw my companions lying near me, motionless, wrapped in their huge traveling rugs.Were they asleep or dead?For myself, sleep was wholly out of the question.My fainting fit over, I was wakeful as the lark.I suffered too much for sleep to visit my eyelids—the more, that I thought myself sick unto death—dying.The last words spoken by my uncle seemed to be buzzing in my ears—all is over!And it was probable that he was right.In the state of prostration to which I was reduced, it was madness to think of ever again seeing the light of day.

Above were miles upon miles of the earth's crust.As I thought of it, I could fancy the whole weight resting on my shoulders.I was crushed, annihilated!and exhausted myself in vain attempts to turn in my granite bed.

Hours upon hours passed away.A profound and terrible silence reigned around us—a silence of the tomb.Nothing could make itself heard through these gigantic walls of granite.The very thought was stupendous.

Presently, despite my apathy, despite the kind of deadly calm into which I was cast, something aroused me.It was a slight but peculiar noise.While I was watching intently, I observed that the tunnel was becoming dark.Then gazing through the dim light that remained, I thought I saw the Icelander taking his departure, lamp in hand.

Why had he acted thus?Did Hans the guide mean to abandon us?My uncle lay fast asleep—or dead.I tried to cry out, and arouse him.My voice, feebly issuing from my parched and fevered lips, found no echo in that fearful place.My throat was dry, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.The obscurity had by this time become intense, and at last even the faint sound of the guide's footsteps was lost in the blank distance.My soul seemed filled with anguish, and death appeared welcome, only let it come quickly.

"Hans is leaving us," I cried."Hans—Hans, if you are a man, come back."

These words were spoken to myself.They could not be heard aloud.Nevertheless, after the first few moments of terror were over, I was ashamed of my suspicions against a man who hitherto had behaved so admirably.Nothing in his conduct or character justified suspicion.Moreover, a moment's reflection reassured me.His departure could not be a flight.Instead of ascending the gallery, he was going deeper down into the gulf.Had he had any bad design, his way would have been upwards.

This reasoning calmed me a little and I began to hope!

The good, and peaceful, and imperturbable Hans would certainly not have arisen from his sleep without some serious and grave motive.Was he bent on a voyage of discovery?During the deep, still silence of the night had he at last heard that sweet murmur about which we were all so anxious?

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CHAPTER 20

WATER, WHERE IS IT?A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT

During a long, long, weary hour, there crossed my wildly delirious brain all sorts of reasons as to what could have aroused our quiet and faithful guide.The most absurd and ridiculous ideas passed through my head, each more impossible than the other.I believe I was either half or wholly mad.

Suddenly, however, there arose, as it were from the depths of the earth, a voice of comfort.It was the sound of footsteps!Hans was returning.

Presently the uncertain light began to shine upon the walls of the passage, and then it came in view far down the sloping tunnel.At length Hans himself appeared.

He approached my uncle, placed his hand upon his shoulder, and gently awakened him.My uncle, as soon as he saw who it was, instantly arose.

"Well!"exclaimed the Professor.

"Vatten," said the hunter.

I did not know a single word of the Danish language, and yet by a sort of mysterious instinct I understood what the guide had said.

"Water, water!"I cried, in a wild and frantic tone, clapping my hands, and gesticulating like a madman.

"Water!"murmured my uncle, in a voice of deep emotion and gratitude."Hvar?"("Where?")

"Nedat."("Below.")

"Where?below!"I understood every word.I had caught the hunter by the hands, and I shook them heartily, while he looked on with perfect calmness.

The preparations for our departure did not take long, and we were soon making a rapid descent into the tunnel.

An hour later we had advanced a thousand yards, and descended two thousand feet.

At this moment I heard an accustomed and well-known sound running along the floors of the granite rock—a kind of dull and sullen roar, like that of a distant waterfall.

During the first half hour of our advance, not finding the discovered spring, my feelings of intense suffering appeared to return.Once more I began to lose all hope.My uncle, however, observing how downhearted I was again becoming, took up the conversation.

"Hans was right," he exclaimed enthusiastically; "that is the dull roaring of a torrent."

"A torrent," I cried, delighted at even hearing the welcome words.

"There's not the slightest doubt about it," he replied, "a subterranean river is flowing beside us."

I made no reply, but hastened on, once more animated by hope.I began not even to feel the deep fatigue which hitherto had overpowered me.The very sound of this glorious murmuring water already refreshed me.We could hear it increasing in volume every moment.The torrent, which for a long time could be heard flowing over our heads, now ran distinctly along the left wall, roaring, rushing, spluttering, and still falling.

Several times I passed my hand across the rock hoping to find some trace of humidity—of the slightest percolation.Alas!in vain.

Again a half hour passed in the same weary toil.Again we advanced.

It now became evident that the hunter, during his absence, had not been able to carry his researches any farther.Guided by an instinct peculiar to the dwellers in mountain regions and water finders, he "smelt" the living spring through the rock.Still he had not seen the precious liquid.He had neither quenched his own thirst, nor brought us one drop in his gourd.

Moreover, we soon made the disastrous discovery that, if our progress continued, we should soon be moving away from the torrent, the sound of which gradually diminished.We turned back.Hans halted at the precise spot where the sound of the torrent appeared nearest.

I could bear the suspense and suffering no longer, and seated myself against the wall, behind which I could hear the water seething and effervescing not two feet away.But a solid wall of granite still separated us from it!

Hans looked keenly at me, and, strange enough, for once I thought I saw a smile on his imperturbable face.

He rose from a stone on which he had been seated, and took up the lamp.I could not help rising and following.He moved slowly along the firm and solid granite wall.I watched him with mingled curiosity and eagerness.Presently he halted and placed his ear against the dry stone, moving slowly along and listening with the most extreme care and attention.I understood at once that he was searching for the exact spot where the torrent's roar was most plainly heard.This point he soon found in the lateral wall on the left side, about three feet above the level of the tunnel floor.

I was in a state of intense excitement.I scarcely dared believe what the eider-duck hunter was about to do.It was, however, impossible in a moment more not to both understand and applaud, and even to smother him in my embraces, when I saw him raise the heavy crowbar and commence an attack upon the rock itself.

"Saved!"I cried.

"Yes," cried my uncle, even more excited and delighted than myself; "Hans is quite right.Oh, the worthy, excellent man!We should never have thought of such an idea."

And nobody else, I think, would have done so.Such a process, simple as it seemed, would most certainly not have entered our heads.Nothing could be more dangerous than to begin to work with pickaxes in that particular part of the globe.Supposing while he was at work a break-up were to take place, and supposing the torrent once having gained an inch were to take an ell, and come pouring bodily through the broken rock!

Not one of these dangers was chimerical.They were only too real.But at that moment no fear of falling in of the roof, or even of inundation was capable of stopping us.Our thirst was so intense that to quench it we would have dug below the bed of old Ocean itself.

Hans went quietly to work—a work which neither my uncle nor I would have undertaken at any price.Our impatience was so great that if we had once begun with pickax and crowbar, the rock would soon have split into a hundred fragments.The guide, on the contrary, calm, ready, moderate, wore away the hard rock by little steady blows of his instrument, making no attempt at a larger hole than about six inches.As I stood, I heard, or I thought I heard, the roar of the torrent momentarily increasing in loudness, and at times I almost felt the pleasant sensation of water upon my parched lips.

At the end of what appeared an age, Hans had made a hole which enabled his crowbar to enter two feet into the solid rock.He had been at work exactly an hour.It appeared a dozen.I was getting wild with impatience.My uncle began to think of using more violent measures.I had the greatest difficulty in checking him.He had indeed just got hold of his crowbar when a loud and welcome hiss was heard.Then a stream, or rather jet, of water burst through the wall and came out with such force as to hit the opposite side!

Hans, the guide, who was half upset by the shock, was scarcely able to keep down a cry of pain and grief.I understood his meaning when, plunging my hands into the sparkling jet, I myself gave a wild and frantic cry.The water was scalding hot!

"Boiling," I cried, in bitter disappointment.

"Well, never mind," said my uncle, "it will soon get cool."

The tunnel began to be filled by clouds of vapor, while a small stream ran away into the interior of the earth.In a short time we had some sufficiently cool to drink.We swallowed it in huge mouthfuls.

Oh!what exalted delight—what rich and incomparable luxury!What was this water, whence did it come?To us what was that?The simple fact was—it was water; and, though still with a tingle of warmth about it, it brought back to the heart, that life which, but for it, must surely have faded away.I drank greedily, almost without tasting it.

When, however, I had almost quenched my ravenous thirst, I made a discovery.

"Why, it is chalybeate water!"

"A most excellent stomachic," replied my uncle, "and highly mineralized.Here is a journey worth twenty to Spa."

"It's very good," I replied.

"I should think so.Water found six miles under ground.There is a peculiarly inky flavor about it, which is by no means disagreeable.Hans may congratulate himself on having made a rare discovery.What do you say, nephew, according to the usual custom of travelers, to name the stream after him?"

"Good," said I.And the name of "Hansbach" ("Hans Brook") was at once agreed upon.

Hans was not a bit more proud after hearing our determination than he was before.After having taken a very small modicum of the welcome refreshment, he had seated himself in a corner with his usual imperturbable gravity.

"Now," said I, "it is not worth while letting this water run to waste."

"What is the use," replied my uncle, "the source from which this river rises is inexhaustible."

"Never mind," I continued, "let us fill our goatskin and gourds, and then try to stop the opening up."

My advice, after some hesitation, was followed or attempted to be followed.Hans picked up all the broken pieces of granite he had knocked out, and using some tow he happened to have about him, tried to shut up the fissure he had made in the wall.All he did was to scald his hands.The pressure was too great, and all our attempts were utter failures.

"It is evident," I remarked, "that the upper surface of these springs is situated at a very great height above—as we may fairly infer from the great pressure of the jet."

"That is by no means doubtful," replied my uncle, "if this column of water is about thirty-two thousand feet high, the atmospheric pressure must be something enormous.But a new idea has just struck me."

"And what is that?"

"Why be at so much trouble to close this aperture?"

"Because—"

I hesitated and stammered, having no real reason.

"When our water bottles are empty, we are not at all sure that we shall be able to fill them," observed my uncle.

"I think that is very probable."

"Well, then, let this water run.It will, of course, naturally follow in our track, and will serve to guide and refresh us."

"I think the idea a good one," I cried in reply, "and with this rivulet as a companion, there is no further reason why we should not succeed in our marvelous project."

"Ah, my boy," said the Professor, laughing, "after all, you are coming round."

"More than that, I am now confident of ultimate success."

"One moment, nephew mine.Let us begin by taking some hours of repose."

I had utterly forgotten that it was night.The chronometer, however, informed me of the fact.Soon we were sufficiently restored and refreshed, and had all fallen into a profound sleep.

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CHAPTER 21

UNDER THE OCEAN

By the next day we had nearly forgotten our past sufferings.The first sensation I experienced was surprise at not being thirsty, and I actually asked myself the reason.The running stream, which flowed in rippling wavelets at my feet, was the satisfactory reply.

We breakfasted with a good appetite, and then drank our fill of the excellent water.I felt myself quite a new man, ready to go anywhere my uncle chose to lead.I began to think.Why should not a man as seriously convinced as my uncle, succeed, with so excellent a guide as worthy Hans, and so devoted a nephew as myself?These were the brilliant ideas which now invaded my brain.Had the proposition now been made to go back to the summit of Mount Sneffels, I should have declined the offer in a most indignant manner.

But fortunately there was no question of going up.We were about to descend farther into the interior of the earth.

"Let us be moving," I cried, awakening the echoes of the old world.

We resumed our march on Thursday at eight o'clock in the morning.The great granite tunnel, as it went round by sinuous and winding ways, presented every now and then sharp turns, and in fact all the appearance of a labyrinth.Its direction, however, was in general towards the southwest.My uncle made several pauses in order to consult his compass.

The gallery now began to trend downwards in a horizontal direction, with about two inches of fall in every furlong.The murmuring stream flowed quietly at our feet.I could not but compare it to some familiar spirit, guiding us through the earth, and I dabbled my fingers in its tepid water, which sang like a naiad as we progressed.My good humor began to assume a mythological character.

As for my uncle he began to complain of the horizontal character of the road.His route, he found, began to be indefinitely prolonged, instead of "sliding down the celestial ray," according to his expression.

But we had no choice; and as long as our road led towards the centre—however little progress we made, there was no reason to complain.

Moreover, from time to time the slopes were much greater, the naiad sang more loudly, and we began to dip downwards in earnest.

As yet, however, I felt no painful sensation.I had not got over the excitement of the discovery of water.

That day and the next we did a considerable amount of horizontal, and relatively very little vertical, traveling.

On Friday evening, the tenth of July, according to our estimation, we ought to have been thirty leagues to the southeast of Reykjavik, and about two leagues and a half deep.We now received a rather startling surprise.

Under our feet there opened a horrible well.My uncle was so delighted that he actually clapped his hands—as he saw how steep and sharp was the descent.

"Ah, ah!"he cried, in rapturous delight; "this will take us a long way.Look at the projections of the rock.Hah!"he exclaimed, "it's a fearful staircase!"

Hans, however, who in all our troubles had never given up the ropes, took care so to dispose of them as to prevent any accidents.Our descent then began.I dare not call it a perilous descent, for I was already too familiar with that sort of work to look upon it as anything but a very ordinary affair.

This well was a kind of narrow opening in the massive granite of the kind known as a fissure.The contraction of the terrestrial scaffolding, when it suddenly cooled, had been evidently the cause.If it had ever served in former times as a kind of funnel through which passed the eruptive masses vomited by Sneffels, I was at a loss to explain how it had left no mark.We were, in fact, descending a spiral, something like those winding staircases in use in modern houses.

We were compelled every quarter of an hour or thereabouts to sit down in order to rest our legs.Our calves ached.We then seated ourselves on some projecting rock with our legs hanging over, and gossiped while we ate a mouthful—drinking still from the pleasantly warm running stream which had not deserted us.

It is scarcely necessary to say that in this curiously shaped fissure the Hansbach had become a cascade to the detriment of its size.It was still, however, sufficient, and more, for our wants.Besides we knew that, as soon as the declivity ceased to be so abrupt, the stream must resume its peaceful course.At this moment it reminded me of my uncle, his impatience and rage, while when it flowed more peacefully, I pictured to myself the placidity of the Icelandic guide.

During the whole of two days, the sixth and seventh of July, we followed the extraordinary spiral staircase of the fissure, penetrating two leagues farther into the crust of the earth, which put us five leagues below the level of the sea.On the eighth, however, at twelve o'clock in the day, the fissure suddenly assumed a much more gentle slope still trending in a southeast direction.

The road now became comparatively easy, and at the same time dreadfully monotonous.It would have been difficult for matters to have turned out otherwise.Our peculiar journey had no chance of being diversified by landscape and scenery.At all events, such was my idea.

At length, on Wednesday the fifteenth, we were actually seven leagues (twenty-one miles) below the surface of the earth, and fifty leagues distant from the mountain of Sneffels.Though, if the truth be told, we were very tired, our health had resisted all suffering, and was in a most satisfactory state.Our traveler's box of medicaments had not even been opened.

My uncle was careful to note every hour the indications of the compass, of the manometer, and of the thermometer, all which he afterwards published in his elaborate philosophical and scientific account of our remarkable voyage.He was therefore able to give an exact relation of the situation.When, therefore, he informed me that we were fifty leagues in a horizontal direction distant from our starting point, I could not suppress a loud exclamation.

"What is the matter now?"cried my uncle.

"Nothing very important, only an idea has entered my head," was my reply.

"Well, out with it, My boy."

"It is my opinion that if your calculations are correct we are no longer under Iceland."

"Do you think so?"

"We can very easily find out," I replied, pulling out a map and compasses.

"You see," I said, after careful measurement, "that I am not mistaken.We are far beyond Cape Portland; and those fifty leagues to the southeast will take us into the open sea."

"Under the open sea," cried my uncle, rubbing his hands with a delighted air.

"Yes," I cried, "no doubt old Ocean flows over our heads!"

"Well, my dear boy, what can be more natural!Do you not know that in the neighborhood of Newcastle there are coal mines which have been worked far out under the sea?"

Now my worthy uncle, the Professor, no doubt regarded this discovery as a very simple fact, but to me the idea was by no means a pleasant one.And yet when one came to think the matter over seriously, what mattered it whether the plains and mountains of Iceland were suspended over our devoted heads, or the mighty billows of the Atlantic Ocean?The whole question rested on the solidity of the granite roof above us.However, I soon got used to the ideal for the passage now level, now running down, and still always to the southeast, kept going deeper and deeper into the profound abysses of Mother Earth.

Three days later, on the eighteenth day of July, on a Saturday, we reached a kind of vast grotto.My uncle here paid Hans his usual rix-dollars, and it was decided that the next day should be a day of rest.

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CHAPTER 22

SUNDAY BELOW GROUND

I Awoke on Sunday morning without any sense of hurry and bustle attendant on an immediate departure.Though the day to be devoted to repose and reflection was spent under such strange circumstances, and in so wonderful a place, the idea was a pleasant one.Besides, we all began to get used to this kind of existence.I had almost ceased to think of the sun, of the moon, of the stars, of the trees, houses, and towns; in fact, about any terrestrial necessities.In our peculiar position we were far above such reflections.

The grotto was a vast and magnificent hall.Along its granitic soil the stream flowed placidly and pleasantly.So great a distance was it now from its fiery source that its water was scarcely lukewarm, and could be drunk without delay or difficulty.

After a frugal breakfast, the Professor made up his mind to devote some hours to putting his notes and calculations in order.

"In the first place," he said, "I have a good many to verify and prove, in order that we may know our exact position.I wish to be able on our return to the upper regions to make a map of our journey, a kind of vertical section of the globe, which will be, as it were, the profile of the expedition."

"That would indeed be a curious work, Uncle; but can you make your observations with anything like certainty and precision?"

"I can.I have never on any occasion failed to note with great care the angles and slopes.I am certain as to having made no mistake.Take the compass and examine how she points."

I looked at the instrument with care.

"East one quarter southeast."

"Very good," resumed the Professor, noting the observation, and going through some rapid calculations."I make out that we have journeyed two hundred and fifty miles from the point of our departure."

"Then the mighty waves of the Atlantic are rolling over our heads?"

"Certainly."

"And at this very moment it is possible that fierce tempests are raging above, and that men and ships are battling against the angry blasts just over our heads?"

"It is quite within the range of possibility," rejoined my uncle, smiling.

"And that whales are playing in shoals, thrashing the bottom of the sea, the roof of our adamantine prison?"

"Be quite at rest on that point; there is no danger of their breaking through.But to return to our calculations.We are to the southeast, two hundred and fifty miles from the base of Sneffels, and, according to my preceding notes, I think we have gone sixteen leagues in a downward direction."

"Sixteen leagues—fifty miles!"I cried.

"I am sure of it."

"But that is the extreme limit allowed by science for the thickness of the earth's crust," I replied, referring to my geological studies.

"I do not contravene that assertion," was his quiet answer.

"And at this stage of our journey, according to all known laws on the increase of heat, there should be here a temperature of fifteen hundred degrees of Reaumur."

"There should be—you say, my boy."

"In which case this granite would not exist, but be in a state of fusion."

"But you perceive, my boy, that it is not so, and that facts, as usual, are very stubborn things, overruling all theories."

"I am forced to yield to the evidence of my senses, but I am nevertheless very much surprised."

"What heat does the thermometer really indicate?"continued the philosopher.

"Twenty-seven six-tenths."

"So that science is wrong by fourteen hundred and seventy-four degrees and four-tenths.According to which, it is demonstrated that the proportional increase in temperature is an exploded error.Humphry Davy here shines forth in all his glory.He is right, and I have acted wisely to believe him.Have you any answer to make to this statement?"

Had I chosen to have spoken, I might have said a great deal.I in no way admitted the theory of Humphry Davy—I still held out for the theory of proportional increase of heat, though I did not feel it.

I was far more willing to allow that this chimney of an extinct volcano was covered by lava of a kind refractory to heat—in fact a bad conductor—which did not allow the great increase of temperature to percolate through its sides.The hot water jet supported my view of the matter.

But without entering on a long and useless discussion, or seeking for new arguments to controvert my uncle, I contented myself with taking up facts as they were.

"Well, sir, I take for granted that all your calculations are correct, but allow me to draw from them a rigorous and definite conclusion."

"Go on, my boy—have your say," cried my uncle goodhumoredly.

"At the place where we now are, under the latitude of Iceland, the terrestrial depth is about fifteen hundred and eighty-three leagues."

"Fifteen hundred eighty-three and a quarter."

"Well, suppose we say sixteen hundred in round numbers.Now, out of a voyage of sixteen hundred leagues we have completed sixteen."

"As you say, what then?"

"At the expense of a diagonal journey of no less than eighty-five leagues."

"Exactly."

"We have been twenty days about it."

"Exactly twenty days."

"Now sixteen is the hundredth part of our contemplated expedition.If we go on in this way we shall be two thousand days, that is about five years and a half, going down."

The Professor folded his arms, listened, but did not speak.

"Without counting that if a vertical descent of sixteen leagues costs us a horizontal of eighty-five, we shall have to go about eight thousand leagues to the southeast, and we must therefore come out somewhere in the circumference long before we can hope to reach the centre."

"Bother your calculations," cried my uncle in one of his old rages."On what basis do they rest?How do you know that this passage does not take us direct to the end we require?Moreover, I have in my favor, fortunately, a precedent.What I have undertaken to do, another has done, and he having succeeded, why should I not be equally successful?"

"I hope, indeed, you will, but still, I suppose I may be allowed to—"

"You are allowed to hold your tongue," cried Professor Hardwigg, "when you talk so unreasonably as this."

I saw at once that the old doctorial Professor was still alive in my uncle—and fearful to rouse his angry passions, I dropped the unpleasant subject.

"Now, then," he explained, "consult the manometer.What does that indicate?"

"A considerable amount of pressure."

"Very good.You see, then, that by descending slowly, and by gradually accustoming ourselves to the density of this lower atmosphere, we shall not suffer."

"Well, I suppose not, except it may be a certain amount of pain in the ears," was my rather grim reply.

"That, my dear boy, is nothing, and you will easily get rid of that source of discomfort by bringing the exterior air in communication with the air contained in your lungs."

"Perfectly," said I, for I had quite made up my mind in no wise to contradict my uncle."I should fancy almost that I should experience a certain amount of satisfaction in making a plunge into this dense atmosphere.Have you taken note of how wonderfully sound is propagated?"

"Of course I have.There can be no doubt that a journey into the interior of the earth would be an excellent cure for deafness."

"But then, Uncle," I ventured mildly to observe, "this density will continue to increase."

"Yes—according to a law which, however, is scarcely defined.It is true that the intensity of weight will diminish just in proportion to the depth to which we go.You know very well that it is on the surface of the earth that its action is most powerfully felt, while on the contrary, in the very centre of the earth bodies cease to have any weight at all."

"I know that is the case, but as we progress will not the atmosphere finally assume the density of water?"

"I know it; when placed under the pressure of seven hundred and ten atmospheres," cried my uncle with imperturbable gravity.

"And when we are still lower down?"I asked with natural anxiety.

"Well, lower down, the density will become even greater."

"Then how shall we be able to make our way through this atmospheric fog?"

"Well, my worthy nephew, we must ballast ourselves by filling our pockets with stones," said Professor Hardwigg.

"Faith, Uncle, you have an answer for everything," was my only reply.

I began to feel that it was unwise of me to go any farther into the wide field of hypotheses for I should certainly have revived some difficulty, or rather impossibility, that would have enraged the Professor.

It was evident, nevertheless, that the air under a pressure which might be multiplied by thousands of atmospheres, would end by becoming perfectly solid, and that then admitting our bodies resisted the pressure, we should have to stop, in spite of all the reasonings in the world.Facts overcome all arguments.

But I thought it best not to urge this argument.My uncle would simply have quoted the example of Saknussemm.Supposing the learned Icelander's journey ever really to have taken place—there was one simple answer to be made:

In the sixteenth century neither the barometer nor the manometer had been invented—how, then, could Saknussemm have been able to discover when he did reach the centre of the earth?

This unanswerable and learned objection I, however, kept to myself and, bracing up my courage, awaited the course of events—little aware of how adventurous yet were to be the incidents of our remarkable journey.

The rest of this day of leisure and repose was spent in calculation and conversation.I made it a point to agree with the Professor in everything; but I envied the perfect indifference of Hans, who, without taking any such trouble about the cause and effect, went blindly onwards wherever destiny chose to lead him.

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CHAPTER 23

ALONE

It must in all truth be confessed, things as yet had gone on well, and I should have acted in bad taste to have complained.If the true medium of our difficulties did not increase, it was within the range of possibility that we might ultimately reach the end of our journey.Then what glory would be ours!I began in the newly aroused ardor of my soul to speak enthusiastically to the Professor.Well, was I serious?The whole state in which we existed was a mystery—and it was impossible to know whether or not I was in earnest.

For several days after our memorable halt, the slopes became more rapid—some were even of a most frightful character—almost vertical, so that we were forever going down into the solid interior mass.During some days, we actually descended a league and a half, even two leagues towards the centre of the earth.The descents were sufficiently perilous, and while we were engaged in them we learned fully to appreciate the marvelous coolness of our guide, Hans.Without him we should have been wholly lost.The grave and impassible Icelander devoted himself to us with the most incomprehensible sang-froid and ease; and, thanks to him, many a dangerous pass was got over, where, but for him, we should inevitably have stuck fast.

His silence increased every day.I think that we began to be influenced by this peculiar trait in his character.It is certain that the inanimate objects by which you are surrounded have a direct action on the brain.It must be that a man who shuts himself up between four walls must lose the faculty of associating ideas and words.How many persons condemned to the horrors of solitary confinement have gone mad—simply because the thinking faculties have lain dormant!

During the two weeks that followed our last interesting conversation, there occurred nothing worthy of being especially recorded.

I have, while writing these memoirs, taxed my memory in vain for one incident of travel during this particular period.

But the next event to be related is terrible indeed.Its very memory, even now, makes my soul shudder, and my blood run cold.

It was on the seventh of August.Our constant and successive descents had taken us quite thirty leagues into the interior of the earth, that is to say that there were above us thirty leagues, nearly a hundred miles, of rocks, and oceans, and continents, and towns, to say nothing of living inhabitants.We were in a southeasterly direction, about two hundred leagues from Iceland.

On that memorable day the tunnel had begun to assume an almost horizontal course.

I was on this occasion walking on in front.My uncle had charge of one of the Ruhmkorff coils, I had possession of the other.By means of its light I was busy examining the different layers of granite.I was completely absorbed in my work.

Suddenly halting and turning round, I found that I was alone!

"Well," thought I to myself, "I have certainly been walking too fast—or else Hans and my uncle have stopped to rest.The best thing I can do is to go back and find them.Luckily, there is very little ascent to tire me."

I accordingly retraced my steps and, while doing so, walked for at least a quarter of an hour.Rather uneasy, I paused and looked eagerly around.Not a living soul.I called aloud.No reply.My voice was lost amid the myriad cavernous echoes it aroused!

I began for the first time to feel seriously uneasy.A cold shiver shook my whole body, and perspiration, chill and terrible, burst upon my skin.

"I must be calm," I said, speaking aloud, as boys whistle to drive away fear."There can be no doubt that I shall find my companions.There cannot be two roads.It is certain that I was considerably ahead; all I have to do is to go back."

Having come to this determination I ascended the tunnel for at least half an hour, unable to decide if I had ever seen certain landmarks before.Every now and then I paused to discover if any loud appeal was made to me, well knowing that in that dense and intensified atmosphere I should hear it a long way off.But no.The most extraordinary silence reigned in this immense gallery.Only the echoes of my own footsteps could be heard.

At last I stopped.I could scarcely realize the fact of my isolation.I was quite willing to think that I had made a mistake, but not that I was lost.If I had made a mistake, I might find my way; if lost—I shuddered to think of it.

"Come, come," said I to myself, "since there is only one road, and they must come by it, we shall at last meet.All I have to do is still to go upwards.Perhaps, however, not seeing me, and forgetting I was ahead, they may have gone back in search of me.Still, even in this case, if I make haste, I shall get up to them.There can be no doubt about the matter."

But as I spoke these last words aloud, it would have been quite clear to any listener—had there been one—that I was by no means convinced of the fact.Moreover in order to associate together these simple ideas and to reunite them under the form of reasoning, required some time.I could not all at once bring my brain to think.

Then another dread doubt fell upon my soul.After all, was I ahead?Of course I was.Hans was no doubt following behind preceded by my uncle.I perfectly recollected his having stopped for a moment to strap his baggage on his shoulder.I now remembered this trifling detail.It was, I believe, just at that very moment that I had determined to continue my route.

"Again," thought I, reasoning as calmly as was possible, "there is another sure means of not losing my way, a thread to guide me through the labyrinthine subterraneous retreat—one which I had forgotten—my faithful river."

This course of reasoning roused my drooping spirits, and I resolved to resume my journey without further delay.No time was to be lost.

It was at this moment that I had reason to bless the thoughtfulness of my uncle, when he refused to allow the eider hunter to close the orifices of the hot spring—that small fissure in the great mass of granite.This beneficent spring after having saved us from thirst during so many days would now enable me to regain the right road.

Having come to this mental decision, I made up my mind, before I started upwards, that ablution would certainly do me a great deal of good.

I stopped to plunge my hands and forehead in the pleasant water of the Hansbach stream, blessing its presence as a certain consolation.

Conceive my horror and stupefaction!—I was treading a hard, dusty, shingly road of granite.The stream on which I reckoned had wholly disappeared!

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CHAPTER 24

LOST!

No words in any human language can depict my utter despair.I was literally buried alive; with no other expectation before me but to die in all the slow horrible torture of hunger and thirst.

Mechanically I crawled about, feeling the dry and arid rock.Never to my fancy had I ever felt anything so dry.

But, I frantically asked myself, how had I lost the course of the flowing stream?There could be no doubt it had ceased to flow in the gallery in which I now was.Now I began to understand the cause of the strange silence which prevailed when last I tried if any appeal from my companions might perchance reach my ear.

It so happened that when I first took an imprudent step in the wrong direction, I did not perceive the absence of the all-important stream.

It was now quite evident that when we halted, another tunnel must have received the waters of the little torrent, and that I had unconsciously entered a different gallery.To what unknown depths had my companions gone?Where was I?

How to get back!Clue or landmark there was absolutely none!My feet left no signs on the granite and shingle.My brain throbbed with agony as I tried to discover the solution of this terrible problem.My situation, after all sophistry and reflection, had finally to be summed up in three awful words—

Lost! Lost!! LOST!!!

Lost at a depth which, to my finite understanding, appeared to be immeasurable.

These thirty leagues of the crust of the earth weighed upon my shoulders like the globe on the shoulders of Atlas.I felt myself crushed by the awful weight.It was indeed a position to drive the sanest man to madness!

I tried to bring my thoughts back to the things of the world so long forgotten.It was with the greatest difficulty that I succeeded in doing so.Hamburg, the house on the Konigstrasse, my dear cousin Gretchen—all that world which had before vanished like a shadow floated before my now vivid imagination.

There they were before me, but how unreal.Under the influence of a terrible hallucination I saw all the incidents of our journey pass before me like the scenes of a panorama.The ship and its inmates, Iceland, M.Fridriksson, and the great summit of Mount Sneffels!I said to myself that, if in my position I retained the most faint and shadowy outline of a hope, it would be a sure sign of approaching delirium.It were better to give way wholly to despair!

In fact, did I but reason with calmness and philosophy, what human power was there in existence able to take me back to the surface of the earth, and ready, too, to split asunder, to rend in twain those huge and mighty vaults which stand above my head?Who could enable me to find my road—and regain my companions?

Insensate folly and madness to entertain even a shadow of hope!

"Oh, Uncle!"was my despairing cry.

This was the only word of reproach which came to my lips; for I thoroughly understood how deeply and sorrowfully the worthy Professor would regret my loss, and how in his turn he would patiently seek for me.

When I at last began to resign myself to the fact that no further aid was to be expected from man, and knowing that I was utterly powerless to do anything for my own salvation, I kneeled with earnest fervor and asked assistance from Heaven.The remembrance of my innocent childhood, the memory of my mother, known only in my infancy, came welling forth from my heart.I had recourse to prayer.And little as I had a right to be remembered by Him whom I had forgotten in the hour of prosperity, and whom I so tardily invoked, I prayed earnestly and sincerely.

This renewal of my youthful faith brought about a much greater amount of calm, and I was enabled to concentrate all my strength and intelligence on the terrible realities of my unprecedented situation.

I had about me that which I had at first wholly forgotten—three days' provisions.Moreover, my water bottle was quite full.Nevertheless, the one thing which it was impossible to do was to remain alone.Try to find my companions I must, at any price.But which course should I take?Should I go upwards, or again descend?Doubtless it was right to retrace my steps in an upward direction.

By doing this with care and coolness, I must reach the point where I had turned away from the rippling stream.I must find the fatal bifurcation or fork.Once at this spot, once the river at my feet, I could, at all events, regain the awful crater of Mount Sneffels.Why had I not thought of this before?This, at last, was a reasonable hope of safety.The most important thing, then, to be done was to discover the bed of the Hansbach.

After a slight meal and a draught of water, I rose like a giant refreshed.Leaning heavily on my pole, I began the ascent of the gallery.The slope was very rapid and rather difficult.But I advanced hopefully and carefully, like a man who at last is making his way out of a forest, and knows there is only one road to follow.

During one whole hour nothing happened to check my progress.As I advanced, I tried to recollect the shape of the tunnel—to recall to my memory certain projections of rocks—to persuade myself that I had followed certain winding routes before.But no one particular sign could I bring to mind, and I was soon forced to allow that this gallery would never take me back to the point at which I had separated myself from my companions.It was absolutely without issue—a mere blind alley in the earth.

The moment at length came when, facing the solid rock, I knew my fate, and fell inanimate on the arid floor!

To describe the horrible state of despair and fear into which I then fell would now be vain and impossible.My last hope, the courage which had sustained me, drooped before the sight of this pitiless granite rock!

Lost in a vast labyrinth, the sinuosities of which spread in every direction, without guide, clue or compass, I knew it was a vain and useless task to attempt flight.All that remained to me was to lie down and die.To lie down and die the most cruel and horrible of deaths!

In my state of mind, the idea came into my head that one day perhaps, when my fossil bones were found, their discovery so far below the level of the earth might give rise to solemn and interesting scientific discussions.

I tried to cry aloud, but hoarse, hollow, and inarticulate sounds alone could make themselves heard through my parched lips.I literally panted for breath.

In the midst of all these horrible sources of anguish and despair, a new horror took possession of my soul.My lamp, by falling down, had got out of order.I had no means of repairing it.Its light was already becoming paler and paler, and soon would expire.

With a strange sense of resignation and despair, I watched the luminous current in the coil getting less and less.A procession of shadows moved flashing along the granite wall.I scarcely dared to lower my eyelids, fearing to lose the last spark of this fugitive light.Every instant it seemed to me that it was about to vanish and to leave me forever—in utter darkness!

At last, one final trembling flame remained in the lamp; I followed it with all my power of vision; I gasped for breath; I concentrated upon it all the power of my soul, as upon the last scintillation of light I was ever destined to see: and then I was to be lost forever in Cimmerian and tenebrous shades.

A wild and plaintive cry escaped my lips.On earth during the most profound and comparatively complete darkness, light never allows a complete destruction and extinction of its power.Light is so diffuse, so subtle, that it permeates everywhere, and whatever little may remain, the retina of the eye will succeed in finding it.In this place nothing—the absolute obscurity made me blind in every sense.

My head was now wholly lost.I raised my arms, trying the effects of the feeling in getting against the cold stone wall.It was painful in the extreme.Madness must have taken possession of me.I knew not what I did.I began to run, to fly, rushing at haphazard in this inextricable labyrinth, always going downwards, running wildly underneath the terrestrial crust, like an inhabitant of the subterranean furnaces, screaming, roaring, howling, until bruised by the pointed rocks, falling and picking myself up all covered with blood, seeking madly to drink the blood which dripped from my torn features, mad because this blood only trickled over my face, and watching always for this horrid wall which ever presented to me the fearful obstacle against which I could not dash my head.

Where was I going?It was impossible to say.I was perfectly ignorant of the matter.

Several hours passed in this way.After a long time, having utterly exhausted my strength, I fell a heavy inert mass along the side of the tunnel, and lost consciousness.

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CHAPTER 25

THE WHISPERING GALLERY

When at last I came back to a sense of life and being, my face was wet, but wet, as I soon knew, with tears.How long this state of insensibility lasted, it is quite impossible for me now to say.I had no means left to me of taking any account of time.Never since the creation of the world had such a solitude as mine existed.I was completely abandoned.

After my fall I lost much blood.I felt myself flooded with the life-giving liquid.My first sensation was perhaps a natural one.Why was I not dead?Because I was alive, there was something left to do.I tried to make up my mind to think no longer.As far as I was able, I drove away all ideas, and utterly overcome by pain and grief, I crouched against the granite wall.

I just commenced to feel the fainting coming on again, and the sensation that this was the last struggle before complete annihilation—when, on a sudden, a violent uproar reached my ears.It had some resemblance to the prolonged rumbling voice of thunder, and I clearly distinguished sonorous voices, lost one after the other, in the distant depths of the gulf.

Whence came this noise?Naturally, it was to be supposed from new phenomena which were taking place in the bosom of the solid mass of Mother Earth!The explosion of some gaseous vapors, or the fall of some solid, of the granitic or other rock.

Again I listened with deep attention.I was extremely anxious to hear if this strange and inexplicable sound was likely to be renewed!A whole quarter of an hour elapsed in painful expectation.Deep and solemn silence reigned in the tunnel.So still that I could hear the beatings of my own heart!I waited, waited with a strange kind of hopefulness.

Suddenly my ear, which leaned accidentally against the wall, appeared to catch, as it were, the faintest echo of a sound.I thought that I heard vague, incoherent and distant voices.I quivered all over with excitement and hope!

"It must be hallucination," I cried."It cannot be!it is not true!"

But no!By listening more attentively, I really did convince myself that what I heard was truly the sound of human voices.To make any meaning out of the sound, however, was beyond my power.I was too weak even to hear distinctly.Still it was a positive fact that someone was speaking.Of that I was quite certain.

There was a moment of fear.A dread fell upon my soul that it might be my own words brought back to me by a distant echo.Perhaps without knowing it, I might have been crying aloud.I resolutely closed my lips, and once more placed my ear to the huge granite wall.

Yes, for certain.It was in truth the sound of human voices.

I now by the exercise of great determination dragged myself along the sides of the cavern, until I reached a point where I could hear more distinctly.But though I could detect the sound, I could only make out uncertain, strange, and incomprehensible words.They reached my ear as if they had been spoken in a low tone—murmured, as it were, afar off.

At last, I made out the word forlorad repeated several times in a tone betokening great mental anguish and sorrow.

What could this word mean, and who was speaking it?It must be either my uncle or the guide Hans!If, therefore, I could hear them, they must surely be able to hear me.

"Help," I cried at the top of my voice; "help, I am dying!"

I then listened with scarcely a breath; I panted for the slightest sound in the darkness—a cry, a sigh, a question!But silence reigned supreme.No answer came!In this way some minutes passed.A whole flood of ideas flashed through my mind.I began to fear that my voice, weakened by sickness and suffering, could not reach my companions who were in search of me.

"It must be they," I cried; "who else could by any possibility be buried a hundred miles below the level of the earth?"The mere supposition was preposterous.

I began, therefore, to listen again with the most breathless attention.As I moved my ears along the side of the place I was in, I found a mathematical point as it were, where the voices appeared to attain their maximum of intensity.The word forlorad again distinctly reached my ear.Then came again that rolling noise like thunder which had awakened me out of torpor.

"I begin to understand," I said to myself after some little time devoted to reflection; "it is not through the solid mass that the sound reaches my ears.The walls of my cavernous retreat are of solid granite, and the most fearful explosion would not make uproar enough to penetrate them.The sound must come along the gallery itself.The place I was in must possess some peculiar acoustic properties of its own."

Again I listened; and this time—yes, this time—I heard my name distinctly pronounced: cast as it were into space.

It was my uncle, the Professor, who was speaking.He was in conversation with the guide, and the word which had so often reached my ears, forlorad, was a Danish expression.

Then I understood it all.In order to make myself heard, I too must speak as it were along the side of the gallery, which would carry the sound of my voice just as the wire carries the electric fluid from point to point.

But there was no time to lose.If my companions were only to remove a few feet from where they stood, the acoustic effect would be over, my Whispering Gallery would be destroyed.I again therefore crawled towards the wall, and said as clearly and distinctly as I could:

"Uncle Hardwigg."

I then awaited a reply.

Sound does not possess the property of traveling with such extreme rapidity.Besides the density of the air at that depth from light and motion was very far from adding to the rapidity of circulation.Several seconds elapsed, which to my excited imagination, appeared ages; and these words reached my eager ears, and moved my wildly beating heart:

"Harry, my boy, is that you?"

A short delay between question and answer.

"Yes—yes."

..........

"Where are you?"

..........

"Lost!"

..........

"And your lamp?"

..........

"Out."

..........

"But the guiding stream?"

..........

"Is lost!"

..........

"Keep your courage, Harry.We will do our best."

..........

"One moment, my uncle," I cried; "I have no longer strength to answer your questions.But—for heaven's sake—do you—continue—to speak—to me!"Absolute silence, I felt, would be annihilation.

"Keep up your courage," said my uncle."As you are so weak, do not speak.We have been searching for you in all directions, both by going upwards and downwards in the gallery.My dear boy, I had begun to give over all hope—and you can never know what bitter tears of sorrow and regret I have shed.At last, supposing you to be still on the road beside the Hansbach, we again descended, firing off guns as signals.Now, however, that we have found you, and that our voices reach each other, it may be a long time before we actually meet.We are conversing by means of some extraordinary acoustic arrangement of the labyrinth.But do not despair, my dear boy.It is something gained even to hear each other."

While he was speaking, my brain was at work reflecting.A certain undefined hope, vague and shapeless as yet, made my heart beat wildly.In the first place, it was absolutely necessary for me to know one thing.I once more, therefore, leaned my head against the wall, which I almost touched with my lips, and again spoke.

"Uncle."

..........

"My boy?"was his answer after a few moments.

..........

"It is of the utmost consequence that we should know how far we are asunder."

..........

"That is not difficult."

..........

"You have your chronometer at hand?"I asked.

..........

"Certainly."

..........

"Well, take it into your hand.Pronounce my name, noting exactly the second at which you speak.I will reply as soon as I hear your words—and you will then note exactly the moment at which my reply reaches you."

..........

"Very good; and the mean time between my question and your answer will be the time occupied by my voice in reaching you."

..........

"That is exactly what I mean, Uncle," was my eager reply.

..........

"Are you ready?"

..........

"Yes."

..........

"Well, make ready, I am about to pronounce your name," said the Professor.

I applied my ear close to the sides of the cavernous gallery, and as soon as the word "Harry" reached my ear, I turned round and, placing my lips to the wall, repeated the sound.

..........

"Forty seconds," said my uncle."There has elapsed forty seconds between the two words.The sound, therefore, takes twenty seconds to ascend.Now, allowing a thousand and twenty feet for every second—we have twenty thousand four hundred feet—a league and a half and one-eighth."

These words fell on my soul like a kind of death knell.

"A league and a half," I muttered in a low and despairing voice.

..........

"It shall be got over, my boy," cried my uncle in a cheery tone; "depend on us."

..........

"But do you know whether to ascend or descend?"I asked faintly enough.

..........

"We have to descend, and I will tell you why.You have reached a vast open space, a kind of bare crossroad, from which galleries diverge in every direction.That in which you are now lying must necessarily bring you to this point, for it appears that all these mighty fissures, these fractures of the globe's interior, radiate from the vast cavern which we at this moment occupy.Rouse yourself, then, have courage and continue your route.Walk if you can, if not drag yourself along—slide, if nothing else is possible.The slope must be rather rapid—and you will find strong arms to receive you at the end of your journey.Make a start, like a good fellow."

These words served to rouse some kind of courage in my sinking frame.

"Farewell for the present, good uncle, I am about to take my departure.As soon as I start, our voices will cease to commingle.Farewell, then, until we meet again."

..........

"Adieu, Harry—until we say Welcome."Such were the last words which reached my anxious ears before I commenced my weary and almost hopeless journey.

This wonderful and surprising conversation which took place through the vast mass of the earth's labyrinth, these words exchanged, the speakers being about five miles apart—ended with hopeful and pleasant expressions.I breathed one more prayer to Heaven, I sent up words of thanksgiving—believing in my inmost heart that He had led me to the only place where the voices of my friends could reach my ears.

This apparently astounding acoustic mystery is easily explainable by simple natural laws; it arose from the conductibility of the rock.There are many instances of this singular propagation of sound which are not perceptible in its less mediate positions.In the interior gallery of St.Paul's, and amid the curious caverns in Sicily, these phenomena are observable.The most marvelous of them all is known as the Ear of Dionysius.

These memories of the past, of my early reading and studies, came fresh to my thoughts.Moreover, I began to reason that if my uncle and I could communicate at so great a distance, no serious obstacle could exist between us.All I had to do was to follow the direction whence the sound had reached me; and logically putting it, I must reach him if my strength did not fail.

I accordingly rose to my feet.I soon found, however, that I could not walk; that I must drag myself along.The slope as I expected was very rapid; but I allowed myself to slip down.

Soon the rapidity of the descent began to assume frightful proportions; and menaced a fearful fall.I clutched at the sides; I grasped at projections of rocks; I threw myself backwards.All in vain.My weakness was so great I could do nothing to save myself.

Suddenly earth failed me.

I was first launched into a dark and gloomy void.I then struck against the projecting asperities of a vertical gallery, a perfect well.My head bounded against a pointed rock, and I lost all knowledge of existence.As far as I was concerned, death had claimed me for his own.

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CHAPTER 26

A RAPID RECOVERY

When I returned to the consciousness of existence, I found myself surrounded by a kind of semiobscurity, lying on some thick and soft coverlets.My uncle was watching—his eyes fixed intently on my countenance, a grave expression on his face, a tear in his eye.At the first sigh which struggled from my bosom, he took hold of my hand.When he saw my eyes open and fix themselves upon his, he uttered a loud cry of joy."He lives!he lives!"

"Yes, my good uncle," I whispered.

"My dear boy," continued the grim Professor, clasping me to his heart, "you are saved!"

I was deeply and unaffectedly touched by the tone in which these words were uttered, and even more by the kindly care which accompanied them.The Professor, however, was one of those men who must be severely tried in order to induce any display of affection or gentle emotion.At this moment our friend Hans, the guide, joined us.He saw my hand in that of my uncle, and I venture to say that, taciturn as he was, his eyes beamed with lively satisfaction.

"God dag," he said.

"Good day, Hans, good day," I replied, in as hearty a tone as I could assume, "and now, Uncle, that we are together, tell me where we are.I have lost all idea of our position, as of everything else."

"Tomorrow, Harry, tomorrow," he replied."Today you are far too weak.Your head is surrounded with bandages and poultices that must not be touched.Sleep, my boy, sleep, and tomorrow you will know all that you require."

"But," I cried, "let me know what o'clock it is—what day it is?"

"It is now eleven o'clock at night, and this is once more Sunday.It is now the ninth of the month of August.And I distinctly prohibit you from asking any more questions until the tenth of the same."

I was, if the truth were told, very weak indeed, and my eyes soon closed involuntarily.I did require a good night's rest, and I went off reflecting at the last moment that my perilous adventure in the interior of the earth, in total darkness, had lasted four days!

On the morning of the next day, at my awakening, I began to look around me.My sleeping place, made of all our traveling bedding, was in a charming grotto, adorned with magnificent stalagmites, glittering in all the colors of the rainbow, the floor of soft and silvery sand.

A dim obscurity prevailed.No torch, no lamp was lighted, and yet certain unexplained beams of light penetrated from without, and made their way through the opening of the beautiful grotto.

I, moreover, heard a vague and indefinite murmur, like the ebb and flow of waves upon a strand, and sometimes I verily believed I could hear the sighing of the wind.

I began to believe that, instead of being awake, I must be dreaming.Surely my brain had not been affected by my fall, and all that occurred during the last twenty-four hours was not the frenzied visions of madness?And yet after some reflection, a trial of my faculties, I came to the conclusion that I could not be mistaken.Eyes and ears could not surely both deceive me.

"It is a ray of the blessed daylight," I said to myself, "which has penetrated through some mighty fissure in the rocks.But what is the meaning of this murmur of waves, this unmistakable moaning of the salt-sea billows?I can hear, too, plainly enough, the whistling of the wind.But can I be altogether mistaken?If my uncle, during my illness, has but carried me back to the surface of the earth!Has he, on my account, given up his wondrous expedition, or in some strange manner has it come to an end?"

I was puzzling my brain over these and other questions, when the Professor joined me.

"Good day, Harry," he cried in a joyous tone."I fancy you are quite well."

"I am very much better," I replied, actually sitting up in my bed.

"I knew that would be the end of it, as you slept both soundly and tranquilly.Hans and I have each taken turn to watch, and every hour we have seen visible signs of amelioration."

"You must be right, Uncle," was my reply, "for I feel as if I could do justice to any meal you could put before me."

"You shall eat, my boy, you shall eat.The fever has left you.Our excellent friend Hans has rubbed your wounds and bruises with I know not what ointment, of which the Icelanders alone possess the secret.And they have healed your bruises in the most marvelous manner.Ah, he's a wise fellow is Master Hans."

While he was speaking, my uncle was placing before me several articles of food, which, despite his earnest injunctions, I readily devoured.As soon as the first rage of hunger was appeased, I overwhelmed him with questions, to which he now no longer hesitated to give answers.

I then learned, for the first time, that my providential fall had brought me to the bottom of an almost perpendicular gallery.As I came down, amidst a perfect shower of stones, the least of which falling on me would have crushed me to death, they came to the conclusion that I had carried with me an entire dislocated rock.Riding as it were on this terrible chariot, I was cast headlong into my uncle's arms. And into them I fell, insensible and covered with blood.

"It is indeed a miracle," was the Professor's final remark, "that you were not killed a thousand times over.But let us take care never to separate; for surely we should risk never meeting again."

"Let us take care never again to separate."

These words fell with a sort of chill upon my heart.The journey, then, was not over.I looked at my uncle with surprise and astonishment.My uncle, after an instant's examination of my countenance, said: "What is the matter, Harry?"

"I want to ask you a very serious question.You say that I am all right in health?"

"Certainly you are."

"And all my limbs are sound and capable of new exertion?"I asked.

"Most undoubtedly."

"But what about my head?"was my next anxious question.

"Well, your head, except that you have one or two contusions, is exactly where it ought to be—on your shoulders," said my uncle, laughing.

"Well, my own opinion is that my head is not exactly right.In fact, I believe myself slightly delirious."

"What makes you think so?"

"I will explain why I fancy I have lost my senses," I cried."Have we not returned to the surface of Mother Earth?"

"Certainly not."

"Then truly I must be mad, for do I not see the light of day?do I not hear the whistling of the wind?and can I not distinguish the wash of a great sea?"

"And that is all that makes you uneasy?"said my uncle, with a smile.

"Can you explain?"

"I will not make any attempt to explain; for the whole matter is utterly inexplicable.But you shall see and judge for yourself.You will then find that geological science is as yet in its infancy—and that we are doomed to enlighten the world."

"Let us advance, then," I cried eagerly, no longer able to restrain my curiosity.

"Wait a moment, my dear Harry," he responded; "you must take precautions after your illness before going into the open air."

"The open air?"

"Yes, my boy.I have to warn you that the wind is rather violent—and I have no wish for you to expose yourself without necessary precautions."

"But I beg to assure you that I am perfectly recovered from my illness."

"Have just a little patience, my boy.A relapse would be inconvenient to all parties.We have no time to lose—as our approaching sea voyage may be of long duration."

"Sea voyage?"I cried, more bewildered than ever.

"Yes.You must take another day's rest, and we shall be ready to go on board by tomorrow," replied my uncle, with a peculiar smile.

"Go on board!"The words utterly astonished me.

Go on board—what and how?Had we come upon a river, a lake, had we discovered some inland sea?Was a vessel lying at anchor in some part of the interior of the earth?

My curiosity was worked up to the very highest pitch.My uncle made vain attempts to restrain me.When at last, however, he discovered that my feverish impatience would do more harm than good—and that the satisfaction of my wishes could alone restore me to a calm state of mind—he gave way.

I dressed myself rapidly—and then taking the precaution to please my uncle, of wrapping myself in one of the coverlets, I rushed out of the grotto.

---

CHAPTER 27

THE CENTRAL SEA

At first I saw absolutely nothing.My eyes, wholly unused to the effulgence of light, could not bear the sudden brightness; and I was compelled to close them.When I was able to reopen them, I stood still, far more stupefied than astonished.Not all the wildest effects of imagination could have conjured up such a scene!"The sea—the sea," I cried.

"Yes," replied my uncle, in a tone of pardonable pride; "the Central Sea.No future navigator will deny the fact of my having discovered it; and hence of acquiring a right of giving it a name."

It was quite true.A vast, limitless expanse of water, the end of a lake if not of an ocean, spread before us, until it was lost in the distance.The shore, which was very much indented, consisted of a beautiful soft golden sand, mixed with small shells, the long-deserted home of some of the creatures of a past age.The waves broke incessantly—and with a peculiarly sonorous murmur, to be found in underground localities.A slight frothy flake arose as the wind blew along the pellucid waters; and many a dash of spray was blown into my face.The mighty superstructure of rock which rose above to an inconceivable height left only a narrow opening—but where we stood, there was a large margin of strand.On all sides were capes and promontories and enormous cliffs, partially worn by the eternal breaking of the waves, through countless ages!And as I gazed from side to side, the mighty rocks faded away like a fleecy film of cloud.

It was in reality an ocean, with all the usual characteristics of an inland sea, only horribly wild—so rigid, cold and savage.

One thing startled and puzzled me greatly.How was it that I was able to look upon that vast sheet of water instead of being plunged in utter darkness?The vast landscape before me was lit up like day.But there was wanting the dazzling brilliancy, the splendid irradiation of the sun; the pale cold illumination of the moon; the brightness of the stars.The illuminating power in this subterranean region, from its trembling and Rickering character, its clear dry whiteness, the very slight elevation of its temperature, its great superiority to that of the moon, was evidently electric; something in the nature of the aurora borealis, only that its phenomena were constant, and able to light up the whole of the ocean cavern.

The tremendous vault above our heads, the sky, so to speak, appeared to be composed of a conglomeration of nebulous vapors, in constant motion.I should originally have supposed that, under such an atmospheric pressure as must exist in that place, the evaporation of water could not really take place, and yet from the action of some physical law, which escaped my memory, there were heavy and dense clouds rolling along that mighty vault, partially concealing the roof.Electric currents produced astonishing play of light and shade in the distance, especially around the heavier clouds.Deep shadows were cast beneath, and then suddenly, between two clouds, there would come a ray of unusual beauty, and remarkable intensity.And yet it was not like the sun, for it gave no heat.

The effect was sad and excruciatingly melancholy.Instead of a noble firmament of blue, studded with stars, there was above me a heavy roof of granite, which seemed to crush me.

Gazing around, I began to think of the theory of the English captain who compared the earth to a vast hollow sphere in the interior of which the air is retained in a luminous state by means of atmospheric pressure, while two stars, Pluto and Proserpine, circled there in their mysterious orbits.After all, suppose the old fellow was right!

In truth, we were imprisoned—bound as it were, in a vast excavation.Its width it was impossible to make out; the shore, on either hand, widening rapidly until lost to sight; while its length was equally uncertain.A haze on the distant horizon bounded our view.As to its height, we could see that it must be many miles to the roof.Looking upward, it was impossible to discover where the stupendous roof began.The lowest of the clouds must have been floating at an elevation of two thousand yards, a height greater than that of terrestrial vapors, which circumstance was doubtless owing to the extreme density of the air.

I use the word "cavern" in order to give an idea of the place.I cannot describe its awful grandeur; human language fails to convey an idea of its savage sublimity.Whether this singular vacuum had or had not been caused by the sudden cooling of the earth when in a state of fusion, I could not say.I had read of most wonderful and gigantic caverns—but, none in any way like this.

The great grotto of Guachara, in Colombia, visited by the learned Humboldt; the vast and partially explored Mammoth Cave in Kentucky—what were these holes in the earth to that in which I stood in speechless admiration!with its vapory clouds, its electric light, and the mighty ocean slumbering in its bosom!Imagination, not description, can alone give an idea of the splendor and vastness of the cave.

I gazed at these marvels in profound silence.Words were utterly wanting to indicate the sensations of wonder I experienced.I seemed, as I stood upon that mysterious shore, as if I were some wandering inhabitant of a distant planet, present for the first time at the spectacle of some terrestrial phenomena belonging to another existence.To give body and existence to such new sensations would have required the coinage of new words—and here my feeble brain found itself wholly at fault.I looked on, I thought, I reflected, I admired, in a state of stupefaction not altogether unmingled with fear!

The unexpected spectacle restored some color to my pallid cheeks.I seemed to be actually getting better under the influence of this novelty.Moreover, the vivacity of the dense atmosphere reanimated my body by inflating my lungs with unaccustomed oxygen.

It will be readily conceived that after an imprisonment of forty-seven days, in a dark and miserable tunnel it was with infinite delight that I breathed this saline air.It was like the genial, reviving influence of the salt sea waves.

My uncle had already got over the first surprise.

With the Latin poet Horace his idea was that—