“The same little boat which brought the two workmen to the great floating house took them back again, after an hour’s rest, to the vicinity of the diving‐bell, which, hung just over the water, looked very much like an immense iron box open at the bottom. The procedure in making ready for the descent has really something rather imposing about it, and to an excited imagination might very well suggest the preparations for the execution of a sentence of death. Nothing is wanting for the purpose; the scaffold, the secret cell, and the gulf of the menacing waves are all there. The divers, thank goodness! do not in the least anticipate such a fate, but, on the contrary, seem proud to walk safely over the bottom of the sea, where so many others have found their grave. Be this as it may, the boat soon places itself underneath the bell, raised as it is three or four feet above the surface. The two workmen climb one after the other up into the inside, helped by an iron ring hung to the arched roof, which can easily be laid hold of by the hands. They take their places on two wooden benches fixed at a certain height in the hollow of the bell. Sometimes four, or even six, workmen have to find seats in this curious vehicle. When all this is done the boat goes away, and in another moment the voice of the foreman gives the order, ‘Lower away.’... “In places where the water is troubled by sand, the diver often passes through a kind of twilight or submarine fog, which compels him to light his lamp. More often, on the contrary, the light is sufficiently strong to enable him to read a newspaper in small type. A story is told even of a lady who wrote a letter in the diving‐bell, and dated it thus: ‘16th June, 18—, at the bottom of the sea.’ Her courage obtained for her among the divers the _sobriquet_ of the Diving _Belle_.