Well Said, Old Mole! Canst Thou Work I’ the Ground So Fast?

           Bythenextdaywehadforgottenalloursufferings.Atfirst,IwaswonderingthatIwasnolongerthirsty,andIwasforaskingforthereason.Theanswercameinthemurmuringofthestreamatmyfeet.

           Webreakfasted,anddrankofthisexcellentchalybeatewater.Ifeltwonderfullystronger,andquitedecideduponpushingon.Whyshouldnotsofirmlyconvincedamanasmyuncle,furnishedwithsoindustriousaguideasHans,andaccompaniedbysodeterminedanephewasmyself,goontofinalsuccess?Suchwerethemagnificentplanswhichstruggledformasterywithinme.IfithadbeenproposedtometoreturntothesummitofSnæfell,Ishouldhaveindignantlydeclined.

           Mostfortunately,allwehadtodowastodescend.

           "Letusstart!"Icried,awakeningbymyshoutstheechoesofthevaultedhollowsoftheearth.

           OnThursday,at8a.m.,westartedafresh.Thegranitetunnelwindingfromsidetoside,earneduspastunexpectedturns,and

           seemedalmosttoformalabyrinth;but,onthewhole,itsdirectionseemedtobesouth-easterly.Myuncleneverceasedtoconsulthiscompass,tokeepaccountofthegroundgoneover.

           Thegallerydippeddownaverylittlewayfromthehorizontal,scarcelymorethantwoinchesinafathom,andthestreamrangentlymurmuringatourfeet.Icomparedittoafriendlygeniusguidingusunderground,andcaressedwithmyhandthesoftnaiad,whosecomfortingvoiceaccompaniedoursteps.Withmyrevivingspiritsthesemythologicalnotionsseemedtocomeunbidden.

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