tempests are raging above, and that men and ships are battling against the angry blasts just over our heads?"
"It is quite within the range of possibility," rejoined my uncle, smiling.
"And that whales are playing in shoals, thrashing the bottom of the sea, the roof of our adamantine prison?"
"Be quite at rest on that point; there is no danger of their breaking through. But to return to our calculations. We are to the southeast, two hundred and fifty miles from the base of Sneffels, and, according to my preceding notes, I think we have gone sixteen leagues in a downward direction."
"Sixteen leagues—fifty miles!" I cried.
"I am sure of it."
"But that is the extreme limit allowed by science for the thickness of the earth's crust," I replied, referring to my geological studies.
"I do not contravene that assertion," was his quiet answer.
"And at this stage of our journey, according to all known laws on the increase of heat, there should be here a temperature of fifteen hundred degrees of Reaumur."
"There should be—you say, my boy."
"In which case this granite would not exist, but be in a state of fusion."
"But you perceive, my boy, that it is not so, and that facts, as usual, are very stubborn things, overruling all theories."
"I am forced to yield to the evidence of my senses, but I am nevertheless very much surprised."
"What heat does the thermometer really indicate?" continued the philosopher.
"Twenty-seven six-tenths."
So that science is wrong by fourteen hundred and seventy-four degrees and four-tenths. According to which, it is demonstrated that the proportional increase in temperature is an exploded error. Humphrey Davy here shines forth in all his glory. He is right, and I have acted wisely to believe him. Have you any answer to make to this statement?
Had I chosen to have spoken, I might have said a great deal. I in no way admitted the theory of Humphrey
