124 fRA OMENTS 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 Avere 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: 



