le 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 echoe