From the Bandit's Hall, diverge two caves; one of which, the left, leads you to a multitude of domes; and the right, to one which, par excellence, is called the Mammoth Dome. Taking the right, we arrived, after a rugged walk of nearly a mile, to a platform, which commands an indistinct view of this dome of domes. It was discovered by a German gentleman and the guide Stephen about two years ago, but was not explored until some months after, when it was visited by a party of four or five, accompanied by two guides, and well prepared with ropes, &c. From the platform, the guides were let down about twenty feet, by means of a rope, and upon reaching the ground below, they found themselves on the side of a hill, which, descending about fifty feet, brought them immediately under the Great Dome, from the summit of which, there is a water-fall. This dome is near four hundred feet high, and is justly considered one of the most sublime and wonderful spectacles of this most wonderful of caverns. From the bottom of the dome they ascended the hill to the place to which they had been lowered from the platform, and continuing thence up a very steep hill, more than one hundred feet, they reached its summit. Arrived at the summit, a scene of awful grandeur and magnificence is presented to the view. Looking down the declivity, you see far below to the left, the visiters whom you have left behind, standing on the platform or termination of the avenue along which they had come; and lower down still, the bottom of the Great Dome itself. Above, two hundred and eighty feet, is the ceiling, lost in the obscurity of space and distance. The height of the ceiling was determined by E.F. Lee, civil engineer. This fact in regard to the elevation of the ceiling and the locality of the Great Hall, was subsequently ascertained, by finding on the summit of the hill, (a spot never before trodden by man,) an iron lamp!! The astonishment of the guides, as well as of the whole party, on beholding the lamp, can be easily imagined; and to this day they would have been ignorant of its history, but for the accidental circumstance of an old man being at the Cave Hotel, who, thirty years ago, was engaged as a miner in the saltpetre establishment of Wilkins & Gratz. He, on being shown the lamp, said at once, that it had been found under the crevice pit (a fact that surprised all,); that during the time Wilkins & Gratz were engaged in the manufacture of saltpetre, a Mr. Gatewood informed Wilkins, that in all probability, the richest nitre earth was under the crevice pit. The depth of this pit being then unknown, Wilkins, to ascertain it, got a rope of 45 feet long, and fastening this identical lamp to the end of it, lowered it into the pit, in the doing of which, the string caught on fire, and down fell the lamp. Wilkins made an offer of two dollars to any one of the miners who would descend the pit and bring up the lamp. His offer was accepted by a man, who, in consequence of his diminutive stature, was nicknamed Little Dave; and the rope being made fast about his waist, he, torch in hand, was lowered to the full extent of the forty-five feet. Being then drawn up, the poor fellow was found to be so excessively alarmed, that he could scarcely articulate; but having recovered from his fright, and again with the full power of utterance, he declared that no money could tempt him to try again for the lamp; and in excuse for such a determination, he related the most marvellous story of what he had seen—far exceeding the wonderful things which the unexampled Don Quixote de la Mancha declared he had seen in the deep cave of Montesinos. Dave was, in fact, suspended at the height of two hundred and forty feet above the level below. Such is the history of the lamp, as told by the old miner, Holton, the correctness of which was very soon verified; for guides having been sent to the place where the lamp was found, and persons at the same time stationed at the mouth of the crevice pit, their proximity was at once made manifest by the very audible sound of each other's voices, and by the fact that sticks thrown into the pit fell at the feet of the guides below, and were brought out by them. The distance from the mouth of the Cave to this pit, falls short of half a mile; yet to reach the grand apartment immediately under it, requires a circuit to be made of at least three miles. The illumination of that portion of the Great Dome on the left, and of the hall on the top of the hill to the right, as seen from the platform, was unquestionably one of the most impressive spectacles we had witnessed; but to be seen to advantage, another position ought to be taken by the spectator, and the dome with its towering height, and the hall on the summit of the hill, with its gigantic stalagmite columns, and ceiling two hundred feet high, illuminated by the simultaneous ignition of a number of Bengal lights, judiciously arranged. Such was the enthusiastic admiration of some foreigners on witnessing an illumination of the Great Dome and Hall, that they declared, it alone would compensate for a voyage across the Atlantic. With the partial illumination of the Great Dome, we closed our explorations on this side of the rivers, and retracing our steps, reached the hotel about sun-set. At mid-night, the party which separated from us at the entrance of Pensico Avenue, returned from the points beyond the Echo river.
Third Visit— River Hall— Dead Sea— River Styx— Lethe— Echo River— Purgatory— Eyeless Fish— Supposed Boil of the Rivers— Sources and Outlet Unknown.
Early the next morning, having made all the necessary preparations for the grand tour, which we were the more anxious to take from the glowing accounts of the party recently returned, we entered the cave immediately after an early breakfast, and proceeded rapidly on to River Hall. It was evident from the appearance of the flood here, that it had been recently overflown.
"The cave, or the River Hall," remarks a fair and distinguished authoress, whose description of the river scenery is so graphic, that I cannot do better than transcribe it throughout: "The River Hall descends like the slope of a mountain; the ceiling stretches away—away before you, vast and grand as the firmament at midnight." Going on, and gradually ascending and keeping close to the right hand wall, you observe on your left "a steep precipice, over which you can look down by the aid of blazing missiles, upon a broad black sheet of water, eighty feet below, called the Dead Sea. This is an awfully impressive place; the sights and sounds of which, do not easily pass from memory. He who has seen it, will have it vividly brought before him, by Alfieri's description of Filippo, 'only a transient word or act gives us a short and dubious glimmer, that reveals to us the abysses of his being—dark, lurid and terrific, as the throat of the infernal pool.' Descending from the eminence, by a ladder of about twenty feet, we find ourselves among piles of gigantic rocks, and one of the most picturesque sights in the world, is to see a file of men and women passing along those wild and scraggy paths, moving slowly—slowly, that their lamps may have time to illuminate their sky-like ceiling and gigantic walls—disappearing behind high cliffs—sinking into ravines—their lights shining upwards through fissures in the rocks—then suddenly emerging from some abrupt angle, standing in the bright gleam of their lamps, relieved by the towering black masses around them. He, who could paint the infinite variety of creation, can alone give an adequate idea of this marvellous region. As you pass along, you hear the roar of invisible waterfalls; and at the foot of the slope, the river Styx lies before you, deep and black, overarched with rock. The first glimpse of it brings to mind, the descent of Ulysses into hell,
"Where the dark rock o'erhangs the infernal lake,
And mingling streams eternal murmurs make."
Across (or rather down) these unearthly waters, the guide can convey but four passengers at once. The lamps are fastened to the prow; the images of which, are reflected in the dismal pool. If you are impatient of delay, or eager for new adventures, you can leave your companions lingering about the shore, and cross the Styx by a dangerous bridge of precipices overhead. In order to do this, you must ascend a steep cliff, and enter a cave above, 300 yards long, from an egress of which, you find yourself on the bank of the river, eighty feet above its surface, commanding a view of those in the boat, and those waiting on the shore. Seen from this height, the lamps in the canoe glare like fiery eye-balls; and the passengers, sitting there so hushed and motionless, look like shadows. The scene is so strangely funereal and spectral, that it seems as if the Greeks must have witnessed it, before they imagined Charon conveying ghosts to the dim regions of Pluto. Your companions thus seen, do indeed—
"Skim along the dusky glades,
Thin airy souls, and visionary shades."