'Toute la couche supérieure au plan de niveau passant par le seuil était chargée de brouillard; toute la couche inférieure à ce niveau était parfaitement limpide.' (Thury, p. 37.)
Respectively, 32°·666, 36°·266, and 32°, Fahrenheit.
Since I wrote this chapter, my attention has been called to a tourist's account of the Schafloch in Once a Week (Nov. 26, 1864), in an article called An Ice-cavern in the Justis-Thal. The writer says—'We proceeded to the farther end of the cavern, or at least as far as we thought it prudent, to ascertain where the flooring of ice rounded off into the abyss of unfathomable water we heard trickling below.' One of the party 'having taken some large stones with him, he began hurling them into the profound mystery. Presently a heavy double-bass gurgle issued forth with ominous depth of voice, indicating the danger of farther progress. Having thus ascertained that if either of us ventured farther he would most probably not return by the way he went, the signal of retreat was given, and in about forty minutes, after encountering the same amusing difficulties which had enlivened our descent, Æneas-like we gained the upper air.' It will be seen from my account of what we found in the 'abyss of unfathomable water,' that a little farther exploration might have effected a change in the writer's views.
A Yorkshire farmer unconsciously adapts the German Wolkenbruch, declaring on occasion that the rain is so heavy, it is 'ommust as if a clood had brussen someweers.'
I tried the hay in this châlet one night, with such results that the next time I slept there, two years after, I preferred a combination of planks.