"I know it; when placed under the pressure of seven hundred and ten atmospheres," cried my uncle with imperturbable gravity."
"And when we are still lower down?" I asked with natural anxiety."
"Well, lower down, the density will become even greater still."
"Then how shall we be able to make our way through this atmospheric fog?"
"Well, my worthy nephew, we must ballast ourselves by filling our pockets with stones," said Professor Hardwigg.
"Faith, uncle, you have an answer for everything," was my only reply. I began to feel that it was unwise in me to go any farther into the wide field of hypotheses, for I should certainly have revived some difficulty, or rather impossibility that would have enraged the Professor.
It was evident, nevertheless, that the air under a pressure which might be multiplied by thousands of atmospheres, would end by becoming perfectly solid, and that then admitting our bodies resisted the pressure, we should have to stop, in spite of all the reasonings in the world. Facts overcome all arguments.
But I thought it best not to urge this argument. My uncle would simply have quoted the example of Saknussemm. Supposing the learned Icelander's journey ever really to have taken place—there was one simple answer to be made:—In the sixteenth century neither the barometer nor the manometer had been invented—how, then, could Saknussemm have been able to discover when he did reach the center of the earth? This unanswerable and learned objection I, however, kept to myself, and bracing up my courage awaited the course of events—little aware of how adventurous yet were to be the incidents of our remarkable journey.
The rest of this day of leisure and repose was spent in calculation and conversation. I made it a point to agree with the Professor in everything; but I envied the perfect indifference of Hans, who without taking any such trouble about the cause and effect, went blindly onwards wherever destiny chose to lead.
