“But we now,” says he, “approached the breakwater—that causeway of giants—by the side of which we soon discovered an old dismasted ship. This vessel is rough in appearance, and covered over with a kind of pent‐house roof. In it live, as in a floating house, the operatives who are still working at the breakwater. They pass, alternately, one month on board ship and one month on shore. One of their little sources of profit consists in the sale of small fancy articles, which they say that they cut out with the blades of their pocket‐knives from the rocks which they bring up from the bottom of the sea. Very soon I heard the loud throbbing of machinery, snorting and puffing like so many marine monsters; it was the wheezy noise of the air‐pumps which supply the bells when buried under water.... “I then noticed a small boat managed by a sailor rowing it, which glided under the mouth of the bell, and from this hollow I saw emerge a pair of large loose boots, reaching above the knees, which, being followed by another pair of large boots, convinced me that two men were jumping down into the skiff. The boat itself, in fact, at once got clear of the dome, under which it had been half hidden, and I saw it come back to the vessel with two workmen on board, wet up to the waist and covered with mud. They had just finished making their half‐day under the water, and appeared to be fatigued. Their swarthy complexions were tinged on the cheeks and forehead with a bright sanguine hue. The position of the bell was not at all altered; it was as if they wished to give it an opportunity to dry itself and breathe a little fresh air. It was then dinner hour for the men employed at the works. I had just been a spectator of the process of raising the bell to the surface; I now had to see it let down again to the bottom of the sea.