earth, or anywhere on the surface, all was alike to him. For my own
part the incidents of the journey had hitherto kept me amused, and
made me forgetful of coming evils; but now my fears again were
beginning to get the better of me. But what could I do? The place to
resist the Professor would have been Hamburg, not the foot of Snaefell.

One thought, above all others, harassed and alarmed me; it was one
calculated to shake firmer nerves than mine.

Now, thought I, here we are, about to climb Snaefell. Very good. We
will explore the crater. Very good, too, others have done as much
without dying for it. But that is not all. If there is a way to
penetrate into the very bowels of the island, if that ill-advised
Saknussemm has told a true tale, we shall lose our way amidst the
deep subterranean passages of this volcano. Now, there is no proof
that Snaefell is extinct. Who can assure us that an eruption is not
brewing at this very moment? Does it follow that because the monster
has slept since 1229 he must therefore never awake again? And if he
wakes up presently, where shall we be?

It was worth while debating this question, and I did debate it. I
could not sleep for dreaming about eruptions. Now, the part of
ejected scoriae and ashes seemed to my mind a very rough one to act.

So, at last, when I could hold out no longer, I resolved to lay the
case before my uncle, as prudently and as cautiously as possible,
just under the form of an almost impossible hypothesis.

I went to him. I communicated my fears to him, and drew back a step
to give him room for the explosion which I knew must follow. But I