Some weeks ago I fell asleep and found myself standing near the autoclave in the laboratory talking with a young woman. After a little she excused herself and went down to the east end of the room. In a minute she came back with an irregular block of glittering ice set upon her shoulders in place of her head. She stood before me, naturally without speaking. I watched her with anxious interest. The ice began to melt and trickle down. Channels formed in the mass, its angles were rounded away; the sculpturing went on rapidly. I saw that it was taking on a definite shape, and in a moment more, it was a beautifully molded head of a horse; eyes, ears, and nostrils were faithfully carved out in the clearest ice.