In vain did the Professor cudgel his brains to
read the Runic cryptogram. He deprived
himself of food and sleep; and the harder he tried
to interpret it, the more utter nonsense it
became. At last, by mere chance, young Axel
discovered that, by turning it, upside down, and
reading it so, it stated, in dog Latin, "Descend,
adventurous traveller, into that crater of the
extinct Yocul, Sneffels, on which the shadow of
Scartaris falls at noon during the Calends of
July, and you will reach the centre of the earth:
Which I have done. Arne Saknussem."

The ardent Professor resolved forthwith to
undertake the expedition; and compelled his
reluctant nephew to join him in this novel
excursion. Their travels from Hamburg to, and
in, Iceland, though interesting, are irrelevant to
the present paper. They engaged one Hans
Bjelke, a collector of eider-down by trade, and a
giant in strength, to accompany them as factotum
and guide, and safely reached the craters of
Sneffels. On a neighbouring rock, the words
"Arne Saknussem," carved in Runic letters,
assured them they were on the right road; and
on the 28th of June the shadow of Scartaris fell
on the orifice which was to conduct them to the
centre of the globe.

Slipping from rock to rock by the help of ropes,
they reached the bottom of a perpendicular
chimney, three thousand feet deep, where they
passed the night. Their non-fragile luggage had
been simply thrown down; the rest they carried
on their backs, like walking tourists. A lava
gallery, branching off to the east, turned out a
blind-alley, in spite of their Ruhmkorff electrical
lanterns. They retraced their steps, and took
another tunnel which sloped to the west. While
striding down this, at a rapid pace, their water
fell short. Hans smote the rock with his pickaxe,
when out gushed a boiling spring, which
sorely scalded their hands and lips. They had
then only to follow it, until it cooled down into
Hansbach, and so became potable. It was
their fountain, their companion, and their guide,
leading from the lowest depths to lower still,
for days and days. Somewhere hereabouts,
Axel lost at once, himself, the water-course,
and his lantern; notwithstanding which, he
opened telegraphic communication with his
uncle, by acoustic means resembling those
which have endowed St. Paul's with a
whispering-gallery. Groping in the dark to rejoin his
friends, he fell, slipped, and was shot down an
inclined plane of unknown length, until he lost
consciousness. This he regained in a grotto
suffused with soft light, under the careful treatment
of the Professor and Hans, and at a depth
(warranted;—see the calculations) of one
hundred miles below the earth's surface. They
had experienced only a slight increase of heat;
therefore, in the uncle's opinion, no central fire
exists. Volcanic, and other like phenomena,
according to him, are nothing but the chemical
effects of inflammable metals coming in contact
with air and water. The nephew, in spite of these
extraordinary discoveries, would never renounce
his belief that the earth's nucleus is still on fire.

When Axel was well enough to leave his
grotto, he found himself on the shore of a sea
which its discoverer chose to name the
Lidenbrock. A vast sheet of water, the extremity of
a lake or ocean, stretched far out of sight. The
waves broke on a sandy beach with the sonorous
murmur peculiar to the interiors of very large
edifices. The shore was bounded by buttresses
of rock which rose to an immeasurable height.
Every detail of the picture was brought out by
singular effects of light—not the light of the
sun with his brilliant beams, nor the pale and
uncertain glimmer of the moon, which is merely
a reflexion devoid of heat. The illuminating
power here, by its tremulous diffusion, its dry
and clear whiteness, and its moderate temperature,
betrayed its purely electrical origin. It
was a sort of aurora borealis—a continuation of
a cosmical phenomenon—which pervaded this
cavern capable of containing a sea. But the
word cavern conveys no idea of the immensity
of the hollow. The vault overhead, the sky
if you will, seemed composed of large clouds
and changeable vapours, which, by the effects of
condensation, must at certain times fall in
torrential rains. That day the weather was fine.
Electric sheets produced a wonderful play of
light on the highest clouds; but it was not
sunshine. The effect was the reverse of cheerful
—melancholy rather. Instead of a firmament
spangled with brilliant stars, above the clouds
there was felt to exist a vault of granite which
seemed to crush you with its weight. In short,
the adventurers were imprisoned in an
enormous excavation. Neither its length nor its
breadth could be guessed at. The eye soon
found itself arrested by a vague and undecided
horizon. Its height evidently exceeded several
leagues. .

Walking round a promontory, they fell upon
a group of lofty, colourless, umbrella-shaped
trees. Currents of air seemed to have no effect
upon their branches, which remained as motionless
as those of petrified cedars. On approaching
nearer, the Professor discovered them to be
gigantic mushrooms, thirty or forty feet high.
There they were, by thousands, standing so thick
that complete obscurity reigned beneath their
fleshy domes. There were also lycopods of
phenomenal dimensions, tree ferns, giant
sigillarias, forked lepidodendrons, and the whole
flora of the second epoch of the world, the period
of transition. Never did living botanist enjoy
such a treat before.

And where was this wonderful sea? Horizontally,
it was distant three hundred and fifty
leagues from Iceland, at a vertical depth of
forty leagues, exactly under the Grampian Hills.
In spite of all its novelty, the explorers led a
monotonous life. The air being constantly
luminous, day and night were both alike. So they
built a raft, with the intention of crossing the
sea. On the raft, they amused themselves with
fishing, and caught fish belonging to families
which, on earth, have been extinct for ages.
Moreover, all their specimens were blind; and
not blind only, but absolutely deprived of organs