pillars.

The boat, with its silent, watchful occupant, floats upon the water
like the ghost of the cavern. The water is not like ordinary water; it
is heavy like metal. The boat moves slowly, only now the rower does
not care to look into the depths of the black looking-glass; he pays
no attention to the mysterious signs on the walls. He is occupied
taking stock of the air about him, which is growing denser every
moment, and he looks carefully at his safety-lamp, but it is closely
shut. No escape there.

There is a great fog all round the lamp. The air in this underground
abyss takes a blue shade. The man in the boat knows well what this
means. The flame of the safety-lamp flares high, and the wick turns
red--bad signs these! The angel of death is hovering near.

Two spirits dwell in these subterranean regions--two fearfully wicked
spirits. The pitmen call one Stormy Weather, the other Bad Weather;
and these two evil spirits haunt every coal-mine, under different
names. Bad Weather steals upon its victim, lies like a thick vapor
upon his chest, follows the miner step by step, takes away his breath
and his speech, laughs at his alarm, and vanishes, when it has reached
its height, just as suddenly as it came. Stormy Weather is far more
cruel--fearful. It comes like a whirlwind; it sets everything in a
flame, kindles the lumps of coal, shatters the vaults, destroys the
shaft, burns the ground, and dashes human beings to pieces. Those who
gain their livelihood by working underground can never tell when they
may meet one or other of these evil spirits.

The secret of "stormy weather," whence it comes, when it may come, no
man has yet discovered. It is believed that it arises from the
contact of the hydrogen gases with the acid gases which are contained
in the open air; and "bad weather" needs only a spark to turn into
"stormy weather." The thoughtless opening of a safety-lamp, the
striking of a match, is sufficient to fuse the two evil spirits into
one.

The solitary man whom we have been shadowing sees, with an anxiety
that increases every moment, how the air becomes more and more the
color of an opal. Already it is enveloping him in a thin cloud. He
does not wait for the flood to rise to its highest point, for, when he
reaches a place in the wall where a sort of landing-stage has been
made, he jumps upon it, draws the boat by its chain, and moors it
fast, and then, ascending by some rude steps to a strong iron door,