I carefully refrain from giving the number of feet--first, because I will disclose no confidences, and, secondly, because I have forgotten it. So down we went into the depths of the earth. The hole was about as big as a kitchen chimney, and had on one side of it a number of iron bars, serving as a ladder. Our guide went first, then my companion, then I myself. I shall never forget the experience. I have often heard of the treadmill, and this seemed a revised edition of the punishment. Each bar hurt my feet, and each foot of descent increased my temperature. I went very slowly--it was impossible to go fast in overalls "36." When I had descended what appeared to me to be a mile or so, I came to a full stop. I was standing in a sort of empty store-cupboard--the kind of place where careful housewives stack boxes and unused perambulators. "This is the magazine," said our conductor, waving his illuminated tea-pot about, so that we might see the place to better advantage. "Is this all?" I asked, rather disappointed, as after so much exertion I should have been glad of a little excitement. Even an infernal machine on tick would have been something. "Yes, that's all, Sir," returned the teapot-bearer, beginning to mount the ladder. He was followed by my companion. I brought up the rear, and felt like the great-grandfather of JACK SHEPPARD escaping from Newgate. When I was half way it occurred to me that it was really very wrong to allow people to see such secrets. I might have been a spy, or a political agent, or something or other. Yes, such things should not be permitted, and I recommenced my exertions. "Take care where you go, Sir! There's a loose plank thereabouts!" It was the voice of our leader. It came from above, and had a ventriloquial sound about it. I felt inclined to reply in a shrill _falsetto_, "What a funny man you are Mr. COLE!" but would not. First, it was undignified; secondly, I hadn't the breath to do it. "Wearily, drowsily," like Miss MAY YOHE, but (considering my costume) with a difference, I came to the surface. I felt that I had been for the last ten hours in the hottest room of a local Chinese Turkish Bath. I was so limp that had I been told that the fairest of the fair and the richest of the rich combined was on the eve of being introduced to me, I should not have made any effort to get away. Yes, in spite of being conscious that I had rubbed my nose with a smutty glove, and consequently had something in common with the sweep. "We are going to see the engines," said my friend. "Only so many hundred feet below the level of the ocean," added our conductor. (It will be observed that I carefully avoid figures for the reasons I have already given.) "Thanks, no," I gasped out; "I don't think I will go. I suppose they are exactly like other engines?" "Not in the least." "Ah, then that decides me, I will stay here," and I did.