We sat down, and the guide, taking all the lamps, walked away, descended into a kind of pit, and disappeared in a small sub-cavern; and every ray of light soon vanished. The darkness was indeed perfect; and it occurred to me that if a man intended to remain in such a position, he might as well have his eyes sewed up and covered with black sealing-wax.
Neither my companion nor myself spoke. The darkness was so absolute, and the silence so profound that strange thoughts came into my head. I thought of the busy world without—fancied I saw the thronging multitudes of all the cities and towns of the globe; and the moving men and women scattered over the broad land; the ships with their crews, tossing about over the breasts of the great oceans; and I asked myself: “Does the eye of the great unknown, incomprehensible, Almighty Being who created and who governs the Universe, take note of all these, and still peer into this silent and secret place?”
“There is a light!” exclaimed my companion, after a minute or so of black darkness and grave-like silence.
Silence? No—all the while I had heard the beating of my own heart, although I was almost unconscious of it as I sat musing, and the very absence of sound caused a singular imaginary ringing in my ears that I had never experienced before.
I looked and saw our guide approaching from a different direction. He had traversed a small passage not known to visitors, and emerged from it some forty yards distant.
“Now, gentlemen,” said the guide, when he reached us again, “I am ready to accompany you further.”
“I presume we will see the ‘Bottomless Pit,’ by and by,” observed my Confederate friend, as we arose.
“Yes,” returned the guide, while we walked on. “That is a mile from here. We will pass over it.”
“And the river Styx,” said I—“where is it?”
“About two miles from here,” responded the guide.