The cylinder of oxygen and the ether saturator were pushed out as far as we dared, and the camera was set up on the edge of the platform, to secure at least a glimpse of this hall of wonders. We were told what lay beyond. Another gallery, begemmed as richly as the one behind us, leads on and on, until a high chamber is reached, into which water pours over a sheet of snowy stalagmite, 60 feet high. We could not descend into the Great Chamber, but we intended to light it up. A tinful of Bengal fire was put into an iron saucer, hanging from a string by iron wires; and this with a light attached was lowered through the hole in the platform, whereon we lay extended at full length looking over into the gulf. There was a fizz, and then the fierce radiance swept from side to side of the huge vault, staining the sheets and curtains and cascades of white a splendid crimson. The walls sparkled blood-red as if set with rubies, and the blue-black sheets of calcite marked by oxide of manganese were empurpled by the glow. We fled before the pungent clouds of smoke that rose into our gallery, back to the Beehive Chamber, leaving that glorious hall once more to solitude and silence.
The only other part we explored was the winding tunnel that begins under the second porch in the Beehive Chamber. It goes far away down, and is knee-deep in mire for a considerable distance. At last, when it seems as if the Great Chamber itself cannot be far away, the passage ends in a choke. We had been in the cavern about five hours, when, after much hard work, we got our apparatus back to the foot of the shaft. Climbing ahead up the rickety ladders, the broken rungs of which were caked with mud and clay, and keeping hold of the life-line all the while, I found our driver waiting for us at the top, for we were an hour late. Several dangerous stones were shifted in pulling up the luggage, and one man below not only received a nasty blow, but narrowly escaped destruction by another stone that he just succeeded in warding off his face.
We have since regretted that we did not test the platform and windlass by a rough-and-ready method, and then descend by a long Alpine rope. The sharp ledges underneath might, however, have rendered this dangerous. We had not seen everything, but we had seen enough to recompense us abundantly for the toil, the slight risk, and the dirt. Murray says that Lamb's Lair is the finest cave in Somerset; I would confidently venture further, and say that for transcendent beauty it has not its equal in England.[4]
E. A. B.
STALACTITES IN ENTRANCE GALLERY, LAMB'S LAIR.
Photo by Bamforth, Holmfirth.