l them.

Contrasting with the bright glitter of the salt mines of Wieliczka are
the gloomy slate quarries of Saint Peter's Mount, near Maestricht, in
the Netherlands, the most extensive in the world. For centuries they
have been worked, both for building and manuring, and probably
benefiting the agriculturist more than the architect. In spring and
summer the labourers occupy themselves in their fields above ground, and
not until winter approaches do they begin to burrow in the entrails of
the earth.

The two travellers followed a trusty guide through those endless
passages, which constantly crossed each other, either to the left hand
or to the right. Darkness to be felt, silence profound, reigned
everywhere, even the human voice seemed to die away without awakening an
echo--the only sound to be heard being an occasional dropping of water
from the roof into a small pool below.

Suddenly the guide extinguished his torch, when, bold as they were, and
well accustomed to subterranean regions, a sensation of awe crept over
them. Their first impulse was to feel for the wall, for in vain their
eyes sought a ray of light, as in vain, also, their ears listened for
the slightest sound.

Neither spoke for some minutes, and they experienced a sensation of
relief when the guide relit his torch. Numbers of hapless beings have
been lost in these trackless galleries, and here and there are
inscriptions on the walls, notifying that a corpse was found on the
ground below. One poor workman lost his way, and roamed about until his
torch died out of his burnt fingers. The lamp of another was
overturned, and he in vain endeavoured to find his way out of some
remote gallery.

A French geologist while exploring the quarry discovered a corpse
shrivelled to a mummy, the hat lying close to his head, a rosary in his
hand. It was conjectured to be the body of a workman who had died more
than half-a-century before, the dry air and the absence of insects
explaining the preservation of the corpse. Two centuries ago four
Franciscan monks resolved to construct a chapel in honour of their
tutelar saint. In order to be able to retrace their steps, they took
with them a large ball of twine, leaving one end secured to a spot where
people were constantly passing. Their twine unwound, they at length
reached a vast hall, probably not visited for many ages. Near the
entrance one of them drew a sketch of the convent, and wrote beneath it
the da