ree
centuries ago by a peasant who had placed a tub under a spring issuing
from the mountain side. On attempting to move it, he found it
excessively heavy, and on examining the bottom he saw that it was partly
full of a heavy liquid, shining like silver. Ignorant of the value of
the substance, he had sense enough to take it to a goldsmith, without
mentioning the place where he had found it. In course of time, however,
a man named Anderlein, having bribed him, became master of the secret,
and with several others began to work the mine. In the next century the
Venetians drove out the Germans, but were finally compelled by the
Emperor Maximilian to give it up, and he restored it to its rightful
owners. The mine has since been worked by the State. Ingress to the
mine can be obtained by descending a convenient flight of steps, with
galleries running off here and there from landing-places, or by
descending in a few minutes through a perpendicular shaft in one of the
tubs by which the ore is raised. The galleries lead to the various
storeys of the mine, the lowest of which is 145 fathoms beneath the
surface. The vein itself descends to an unknown depth, and is
horizontal, but its extent has not yet been measured. The ores being
embedded in limestone of a loose nature, all the galleries had from the
first to be supported by wooden props. The wood has, on several
occasions caught fire, with disastrous results. Early in this century
the labourers observed a thick smoke issuing from the deepest part of
the mine. It rose higher and higher, spreading through the upper
galleries, yet no fire was to be seen, nor sound of flames heard.

Some of the workmen attempted to reach the scene of the fire, but were
driven back by the dense and suffocating smoke, impregnated with
vapours. Endeavours were made to smother the fire, but though the mine
remained closed for five weeks, no sooner was it re-opened than the fire
burst forth more furiously than at first. The howling of the flames
ascending from the lowest depths of the pit awed the spectators, and the
mercurial and sulphureous fumes arising from it threatened instant
destruction to all who might approach. The director of the mine, as a
last resource, came to the decision of flooding the works, and a river
turned into the shaft ran down it for two days and three nights. At
first no perceptible effect was produced, but on the second a terrific
explosion shook the mountain a