it, and our guide seemed in despair; and I, for one, entirely gave up the third cave to the same fate as the second, and became very sulky and remonstrative.  The entrance to the glaciere, the maire told us, was a hole in the face of the highest rocks, 3 or 4 yards only above the grass; and as we had now reached a part of the mountain where the rock springs up smooth and high, and we could command the whole face, and yet saw nothing, the schoolmaster came over to my side, and told the maire he was a humbug.  However, we were then within a few yards of the desired spot, and half-a-dozen steps showed us a small cheminee, down which a strong and icy current of wind blew.  The maire shouted a shout of triumph, and climbed the cheminee; and when we also had done the necessary gymnastics, we found a hole facing almost due north, all within being dark.  The current blew so determinedly, that matches were of no use, and I was obliged to seek a sheltered corner before I could light a candle; and, when lighted, the candle was with difficulty kept from being blown out.  No ice was visible, nor any signs of such a thing,—­nothing but a very irregular narrow cave, with darkness at the farther end.  As we advanced, we found that the floor of the cave came to a sudden end, and the darkness developed into a strange narrow fissure, which reached out of sight upwards, and out of sight below; and down this the maire rolled stones, saying that there was the glaciere, if only one could get at it without a tourneau.  Considering the persistency with which he had throughout declared that there was no possible need for a rope, I gave him some of my mind here, in that softened style which his official dignity demanded; but he excused himself by saying that the gentleman who owned the glaciere, and extracted the ice for private use only, was now living at his summer chalet, a mile or two off, and he, the maire, had felt confident that the tourneau would have been fitted up for the season.

On letting a candle down from the termination of the floor, we found that the perpendicular drop was not more than 12 feet, and from the shelf thus reached it seemed very possible to descend to the farther depths of the fissure; but I had become so sceptical, that I persisted in asserting that there was no ice below.  The maire’s manner, also, was strange, and I suspected that the cold current of air had caused the place to be called a glaciere, with any other qualification on the part of the cave.  One thing was evident,—­no snow could reach the fissure.  M. Metrai was determined that I must not attempt the descent, pointing out, what was quite true, that though the fall was not great, there seemed no possibility of getting back up the smooth rock.  His arguments increased my suspicions; so, leaving all apparatus behind, I dropped down to join the candle, rather hoping to have the satisfaction of sending them off for a rope, in case I could not achieve the last few feet in returning, and knowing that there was no danger of the fate which once threatened the chamois-hunting Kaiser Max.[74]