cold was gripping us; nor was it safe to remain after the great heat outside, and so we turned to go. As we emerged round the bend the blaze of sunshine without dazzled our eyes for a moment, and then we saw a sight few have seen. There, framed by the arch of ice, rose the Silver Cone—all that pure curve of snow, with its every rock, every purple shadow, sharp and distinct against a blue so intense, it seemed dark against the snow. From the cave we looked straight into the chasm below the peak, but could see neither to the bottom nor to the end of that misty gulf—only up to the glacier curling over the black precipice.
I needs must see how the water entered the cave. We climbed up on to the top of it, and proceeded over a slippery surface, rather sloppy in the hot sunshine, till we stood below the waterfall which shoots in unbroken volume into a round, black hole. A cloud like steam rises out of it, and hangs around the opening. Looking upwards you see the fall comes down in a succession of three grand leaps, having their beginnings in a glacier poised some thousands of feet above. I don’t know whether it is more weirdly strange to stand up there at the edge of the uncanny pot-hole, or in the dimness of the cave to hear the water thundering down without.
We clambered round a buttress of cliff beyond the Ice-cave, and came to the second wonder. I have no doubt it had once been very similar to the first, because a waterfall at the end of a
