124 ' FRAGMENTS OF SCIENCE. 
softening process of Clark is virtually a hastening of the 
natural process. Here, however, instead of being permitted 
to evaporate, half the carbonic acid is appropriated by 
lime, the half thus taken up, as well as the remaining half, 
being precipitated. The solid precipitate is permitted to 
sink, and the clear supernatant liquid is limpid soft 
water. 
We returned to the real mouth of St. Michael's Cave, 
which is entered by a wicket. The floor was somewhat 
muddy, and the roof and walls were wet. We soon found 
ourselves in the midst of a natural temple, where tall col- 
umns sprang complete from floor to roof , while incipient 
columns were growing to meet each other, upward and 
downward. The water which trickles from the stalactite, 
after having in part yielded up its carbonate of lime, falls 
upon the floor vertically underneath, and there builds 
the stalagmite. Consequently, the pillars grow from 
above and below simultaneously, along the same vertical. 
It is easy to distinguish the stalagmitic from the stalac- 
titic portion of the pillars. The former is always divided 
into short segments by protuberant rings, as if deposited 
periodically, while the latter presents a uniform surface. 
In some cases the points of inverted cones of stalactite 
rested on the centers of pillars of stalagmite. The proc- 
ess of solidification and the consequent architecture were 
alike beautiful. 
We followed our guide through various branches and 
arms of the cave, climbed and descended steps, halted at 
the edges of dark shafts and apertures, and squeezed our- 
selves through narrow passages. From time to time we 
halted, while Mr. Crookes illuminated with ignited mag- 
nesium wire, the roof, columns, dependent spears, and 
graceful drapery of the stalactites. Once, coming to a 
magnificent cluster of icicle-like spears, we helped ourselves 
to specimens. There was some difficulty in detaching 
the more delicate ones, their fragility was so great. A 
consciousness of vandalism, which smote me at the time, 
haunts me still; for, though our requisitions were moder- 
ate, this beauty ought not to be at all invaded. Pendent 
from the roof, in their natural habitat, nothing can exceed 
their delicate beauty; they live, as it were, surrounded by 
organic connections. In London they are curious, but 
not beautiful. Of gathered shells Emerson writes: 
