such a task, for
his way lies through the palace of death. It needs a heart of stone to
be there alone in the awful silence. It is a strong motive that brings
him. He is seeking the secret which lies under seven seals, the
treasure which Nature has concealed for thousands of years. But this
man knows not what fear is. He remains three hours seeking. If he had
any one--a wife, a sister, even a faithful servant, who knew where he
was, what danger he was in, how their souls would have gone out in
agony of fear for what might happen!

But he has no one; he is alone--always alone. There is no one to weep
for his absence or to be joyful at his coming; his life is solitary,
in the clear air of daylight as well as in the depths of the cavern.

The vanished stream is as capricious as a coquettish maiden, as full
of tricks and humors. Sometimes it does not show itself for three or
four hours; at other moments it comes frolicking back in one, and woe
to the unfortunate wight who is caught in its embrace in the narrow
windings of the coal-vault! But this man knows the humors of the
stream; he has studied them. He and it are old acquaintances; he knows
the signs upon which he can depend, and he knows how long the pause
will last. He can gauge its duration by the underground wind. When it
whistles through the clefts and fissures, then he knows the stream is
at hand. Should he wait until the shrill piping ceases, then he is a
dead man.

In the darkness a ghostly sound is heard--it is like a long-drawn
sigh, the far-away sobbing of an AEolian harp; and immediately the
shimmer of the lamp is seen coming nearer and nearer, and in a minute
the mysterious searcher of the hidden secret appears.

His countenance is paler than before--deathly; and drops of sweat
course down his forehead and cheeks. Down below the air must be
heavier in the cavern, or the nightmare of the abyss has caused this
cold damp. He throws his well-filled wallet into the boat, and seats
himself in it again.

It was time. Scarcely has he taken his place when a gurgling is heard,
and out of the fissures of the rock comes a gush of black water,
shooting forth with a loud, bubbling noise. Then follows a few
minutes' pause, and again another gush of water. The cavern is filling
rapidly. In a short time, over the smooth surface of the wall, the
watermark shows itself. Clear as a looking-glass it rises,
noiselessly, surely, until it has reached the black line upon the