The explanation seemed to be in accord with the facts, and if so, it would go to show that the ice in this cave is of slow formation and great permanency; as seems also proved by the steps on the ice wall, which--we were the first party in the cave in 1896--had remained over from the preceding summer. Misura told me he had never seen so much ice nor seen it so hard as during our visit, and he added that there was generally water on the ice lake, and he thought there would be some in two or three weeks more. The greatest quantity of ice in the upper cave was at the head of the ice-slope, and it would seem as though there must be cracks or fissures in the overhead rocks there, through which the water is supplied to feed the ice, not only that of the upper cave, but also the larger portion of that of the lower cave. The heavy winter air would naturally sink down into the entrance pit to the lower cavern, and some of it diverge into the beginning of the upper cavern, which at first is distinctly a down slope. A little beyond the portal at the head of the ice slope, the upper cave is either horizontal or in places slightly ascending. Probably this prevents the cold air from entering further, and probably also, the heat of the earth neutralizes the cold air of winter beyond a definite spot. The air in the cave seemed absolutely still throughout; it was also extremely dry, undoubtedly because melting had not yet begun. The icicles evidently were formed by the slow drip freezing as it descended, and there were no perceptible cracks nor fissures in the rocks underneath them. The facts seem to me to prove that neither evaporation nor regelation can be the factors at work in making the ice and we may deduce an important rule therefrom. When a cave is dry, then the air is dry; when a cave is wet, then the atmosphere is damp. In other words, the state of dryness or dampness of glacière atmosphere depends on how much the ice is thawing and parting with its moisture. On our return to the base of the long staircase, and while we ascended it, we had an exquisite moonlight effect, much resembling the one at the Schafloch. THE FRAINER EISLEITHEN. About two hours by rail, north of Vienna, is the village of Schoenwald, to which I journeyed on June the 15th, 1896. At the railroad station there was a K. K. Post Omnibus in waiting, which, when it was packed with passengers and luggage, drove over to Frain in an hour. The admirable road lies across a rolling plain, until it reaches the brink of the valley of the Thaya, to which it descends in long Alpine zigzags. On the bluff overlooking the opposite side of the river, there is a fine _schloss_.