forgot to look at the roof--until we came to the edge of a glorious
ice-fall, down which Christian said it was impossible to go--no one had
ever been farther than where we now stood. I have seen no subterranean
ice-fall so grand as this, round and smooth, and perfectly unbroken,
passing down, like the rapids of some river too deep for its surface to
be disturbed, into darkness against which two candles prevailed nothing.
The fall in the Upper Glacière of the Pré de S. Livres was strange
enough, but it was very small, and led to a confined corner of the
cavern; whereas this of the Schafloch rolls down majestically, cold and
grey, into a dark gulf of which we could see neither the roof nor the
end, while the pieces of ice which we despatched down the steep slope
could be heard going on and on, as M. Soret says, _à une très-grande
distance_. The shape, also, of the fall was very striking. Beginning at
the left wall of the cave, the edge ran out obliquely towards the
middle, when it suddenly turned and struck straight across to the
right-hand wall, so that we were able to stand on a tongue, as it were,
in the middle of the top of the fall. To add to the effect, precisely
from this tongue or angle a fine column of ice sprang out of the very
crest of the fall, rising to or towards the roof, and to this we clung
to peer down into the darkness.

The rope we had brought was not long, and the idea was hopeless of
cutting steps down this great fall, leading we knew not where, with an
incline which it frightened Christian even to look at. I began to
consider, however, whether it was not possible to make our way down the
left branch of the ice, which fell rather towards the side wall than
into the dark gulf below. On examining more closely, I found that a
large stone, or piece of rock, projected from the face of this branch of
the fall, about 12 feet from the top, and to this I determined to
descend, as a preliminary to further attempts, the candles not showing