Passing now to the second account of a visit to the cave, to which we have already alluded, we find the visitor saying, that the cave is every way so wonderful, that it is impossible to give more than a faint idea of its magnificence and splendor. “As in exploring the cave,” he continues, “there are three rivers to cross and a great deal of climbing over rocks and crawling through narrow places, ladies adopt the Bloomer costume from necessity, and gentlemen are provided with dresses according to their fancy, so that a party starting out for a trip through the cave, present a most grotesque and comical appearance. On arriving at the mouth, the visitor is provided with a lamp, and makes an abrupt, though comparatively easy descent of some seventy or eighty feet. Here he enters a dark avenue, about five rods wide, called the Narrows, and soon finds himself far beyond where daylight ever shone. At the distance of about six hundred yards from the mouth, this avenue expands and forms a large circular room, called the Rotunda, or Great Vestibule. The guide stops here, and ignites a light, a compound of sulphur, saltpeter and antimony, prepared for illuminating the various points of special interest through the cave. This forms a most brilliant light, and reveals a room some two or three hundred feet wide, and forty-seven feet high. The view revealed by this first illumination is most imposing and sublime. I told my guide that he was certainly right in his ideas about describing the cave. As he saw me getting my paper and pencil ready at the mouth, he began laughing very significantly, and said, ‘Writin ’bout the cave aint no use, sir. Most everybody that goes in writes, but they gin’ally throws it away when they comes out. Writin don’t do no good. If anybody wants to know ’bout the cave, they must come and see it.’ Although I had barely commenced my journey through it, I told my guide that I could heartily subscribe to the whole of his speech on this subject.
“And right here, in the great vestibule, I will stop to say a few words about my guide. There are four guides to the cave, all of whom are said to be entirely familiar with it, and to give the most perfect satisfaction to visitors. At all events, I was entirely satisfied with ‘Alfred,’ with whom I made four different journeys through the cave, traveling under ground through various avenues more than fifty miles. Alfred formerly belonged to Miss Mary Croghan, whose elopement from a boarding-school on Staten Island about a dozen years ago, with Captain Shinley, created so great a sensation in New York and elsewhere. After she went to England, she gave Alfred to some of her relatives, and he belonged to Dr. Croghan at the time of his death, who was the owner of the cave. By the terms of Dr. Croghan’s will, Alfred and his wife and children will be free in about eighteen months. He is now drawing wages for his services, which, with the liberal presents he receives from visitors, will enable him to make a very fine start in the world. Alfred has evidently been a great pet, as he learned to read when very small; and he astonishes visitors by his use of scientific terms, and his knowledge of chemistry and geology. He has now been a guide to the cave about sixteen years; has visited it with a great many scientific men; has most of the standard works on geology, and is altogether an interesting character. He sees persons from all parts of the union, and understands all the excitements at the north, from that created by Uncle Tom’s Cabin, down to the Forrest divorce trial. He was anxious to buy Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and was told that he had better buy a Bible. So he paid four dollars and a half for a Bible, and bought Uncle Tom too. I can not do less than recommend all my friends who may visit the cave, to try and secure Alfred for a guide.
“Leaving the vestibule and passing the Kentucky cliffs, so called from their likeness to the cliffs in Kentucky river, we come to what is very appropriately named the Church and Galleries. At various points upon the route thus far, we have seen the leaching vats and other remains of the saltpeter works that were erected in the cave nearly fifty years ago. The manufacture of saltpeter was carried on quite extensively in the cave for several years, and the guide says the saltpeter was manufactured here with which the powder was made which was used in the battle of New Orleans. There is a very plain cart-path through this part of the cave, and we saw the tracks of oxen which were made forty-seven years ago. The church is the point in the cave where the miners assembled for worship. The rude pulpit or stand from which the preacher addressed his congregation, still remains. But besides this there is a natural pulpit and galleries which are easily ascended by steps in the wall, from which sermons are now frequently preached to visitors, for whom seats are provided. When illuminated, this church is more awfully imposing and solemn, than any temple built by human hands. The cave is more than one hundred feet wide, its massive rocky walls about fifteen feet high, and stretching away in each direction until lost in the most impenetrable darkness. For myself, I could not understand how any man would consent to lift his puny voice where God speaks so impressively. But there is a difference in tastes, and many, I doubt not, are persuaded against their own will to gratify the strong desire of the visitors to hear preaching in the cave. Going on from this point we pass the Grand Arch, a natural arch sixty-six feet high, and about seventy yards wide, and one hundred and fifty yards long; and some distance beyond are shown the Giant’s Coffin. This is a huge rock, so formed that the top of it is a fine representation of a coffin. The shape is almost precisely that of a modern metallic coffin. This rock lies exactly east and west, by the compass, and is fifty-seven and a half feet long.
“Here we left the broad main cave in which we had thus far been traveling, and which stretched on indefinitely before us, and turned off into a narrow, circuitous, irregular avenue, and wandered indefinitely. Clambering over rocks, going down precipitous steeps, passing a great variety of rooms, lofty domes, intricate labyrinths, pits from seventy-five to one hundred and seventy-five feet deep, and a great many other points, all appropriately and often very significantly named, we at length came to Gorin’s Dome, so called from the name of its discoverer, by far the most imposing I had yet seen. Coming to the end of a narrow avenue, the guide directed me to look through an opening in the wall, a kind of window, and our lamps revealed hights above and depths below, that seemed interminable! He then kindled one of the lights that I have already described, and placing it upon a board, thrust it through the opening and told me to look, first below and then above. The view was utterly indescribable and almost overpowering. The opening was not more than thirty feet in circumference, and I have already forgotten the hight and depth as given me by the guide. But I felt for hours and still feel the tremblings of those emotions that thrilled through my whole frame as I peered into those abysmal depths, and looked up into those giddy hights. None but Jehovah could build such a dome.
“I can not undertake to give the details of our route from avenue to avenue, nor mention the various points of interest that we passed. We were at length in a vast open space; the guide took our lamps, and going a short distance from us, told us to look up, and we at once discovered that we were in the far-famed Star Chamber. The cave here is some twenty or thirty yards wide, and about sixty or seventy feet high, and in a dim light the arch above presents the appearance of the sky in a very starry night. On looking up you see innumerable stars, and as you gaze for a long time the sky seems to be very distant, the stars increase in number, and it seems quite as if you were really looking through an opening in the cave into the heavens. Our guide Alfred was with Professor Silliman when he examined this arch by the aid of a Drummond light, to discover the cause of this appearance, and found that it was crystals embedded in the wall. After we had satisfied ourselves with viewing this artificial sky, Alfred took all our lamps and going into a cave below us, by the shadows from his lamps gave us a representation of clouds passing over the sky, obscuring the stars, thunder-clouds rolling over and the stars appearing again, and other interesting illusions. After this he went still deeper in the cave below us, leaving us in the most pitchy darkness. We were so deep in the bowels of the earth that the loudest thunder has never been heard there, and the silence and darkness were awfully impressive. Suddenly we saw in the direction in which our guide had disappeared, a light like the rising of the moon, which grew larger and larger, until Alfred emerged through some opening from the regions below, and appeared in the distance in the same cave in which we were standing.
“After leaving this chamber, which was more beautiful than any we had entered, we made our way to the Gothic Gallery. This avenue was unlike anything we had yet seen. It is some four or five rods wide and three-quarters of a mile long, the path over which we walked being much more level than the most of those we had walked over, and much of the wall over our heads looking almost as smooth as if it had been plastered. In this avenue we visited the Haunted Chamber, so called from the fact that two mummies were discovered here many years ago; Vulcan’s Forge, so called from being very dark, and a formation resembling cinders; and near its end the Gothic Gallery. This room has a great variety of stalactite and stalagmite formations, many of which have formed solid massive pillars. As we approached the Chapel, our guide made us all stay behind, while he went ahead, taking all our lamps with him; and when we went forward at his call, we found each of our lamps hung upon some one of these pillars, and illuminating a room, compared with which Taylor’s saloon on Broadway, or the most gorgeous saloon New York can boast, is simplicity itself. These formations are a wonderful curiosity. They are of a very light color, are nearly as hard as granite, and are said to be formed by the drippings of lime water. They are in a great variety of shapes, to which a great many fanciful names have been given, such as the Pulpit, the Devil’s Arm-Chair, the Pillars of Hercules, &c.
“I had intended in this letter to speak of the chief points of interest in what is called the short route through the cave; that is, the portion of the cave that is visited without crossing either of the rivers. I made two visits on this side of the rivers, the first time traveling about six miles, and the second time traveling ten miles and a half. But I am the more willing to pass by the Bandit’s Hall, Mammoth Dome, Persico Avenue, Crockett’s Dome, Snowball Arch, Bunyan’s Way, and other places of special interest, with a mere mention of their names, from the fact that it is so entirely impossible to describe them. Some of these are but rarely visited, and it costs no little effort to reach them. But however narrow the fissures in the rocks through which we squeezed, however steep and slippery the ascent, however long the distance we had to crawl on our hands and knees, we were always more than paid for our pains.
“Omitting, then, any detailed account of what is called the short route, I pass to a notice of the long route, to which most of our time was given. In taking this we entered the cave as before, passed through the great vestibule, and on for a mile or two through the main branch, over the same route we had already traveled. It seems impossible to realize that this is a cave, it is so high, so wide, so vast. Several of our company remarked this fact. We seemed rather to be in some deep, dark ravine or mountain gorge, wandering by the light of our dim lamps, in some night that was utterly rayless and starless. We at length reached the Bottomless Pit, where we entered upon a path that was new to us. This pit is a deep, dark, fearful chasm, and received its name before anything like bottom had been found. It has now been measured to the depth of one hundred and seventy-five feet, and there may be fissures in the rock descending indefinitely below. Near this pit, we passed over an artificial bridge, and entered the Valley of Humility, through which we made our way, stooping and crawling, until we reached what is the most comical and laughable point in the cave, which is most appropriately named the Winding Way, or Fat Man’s Misery. This is an exceedingly circuitous opening in the rock, about eighteen inches wide, and between three and four hundred feet long. At the entrance of this way, the fissure through which we pass is not more than about two feet deep, and the ceiling above us is so high that we could stand erect without difficulty; but in advancing, the fissure becomes deeper, the rocks on either hand are higher and higher, and the ceiling above becomes lower and lower, and it seems to be, indeed, not only fat, but tall men’s misery. It is a most laughable sight to see a party edging their way through this zigzag path; a path that gives every indication of having been washed and worn by the action of the water for innumerable years. Our party was a decidedly lean one, so that we did not, like many others, have the amusement of seeing some one of aldermanic proportions squeeze and worry his way through. Finally, however, we got through, and came into a large open space, which our guide called Great Relief, and a relief it was, sure enough. Passing on, we entered a large, roomy avenue called River Hall, where we were shown the high-water mark in the cave; where, in times of freshets, the river rises fifty-seven feet, perpendicularly, above low-water mark in the cave. We turned aside from this hall into a large room, to witness a great curiosity called the Bacon Chamber. Here the formations overhead are such as to make the room look remarkably like a large smoke-house filled with hams; and near by we were shown a smooth circular excavation in the wall above us, which was pointed out as the kettle for boiling these hams, now turned bottom upward. Returning to the Hall, we went forward, passing several points of interest, until we came to a pure and beautiful body of water called Lake Lethe, upon which we embarked in a small boat provided for the purpose. We were now all on the look-out for the eyeless fish that are found in the waters of the cave, and were so fortunate as to catch in a small net, first, what was called a clawfish, having legs like a lobster, but eyeless and apparently bloodless, being almost precisely the color of potato sprouts that have grown in the spring in a dark cellar. Afterward we caught a very small fish of the same color, and having no eyes. Where the eyes should grow, the flesh was smooth and just like the rest of the body. Whatever our doubts might have been before, we here had ocular demonstration that the fish in these waters, which are never illumined except by lamplight, are entirely without sight.
“Leaving Lake Lethe, we entered a most grand and imposing avenue, with lofty rocky walls towering about two hundred and fifty feet high, called the Great Walk. This leads to the Echo River, one of the greatest of these subterranean wonders. We sailed down this river a distance of three-quarters of a mile, and such a sail! Where on the earth or under the earth, could another such a sail be taken? The water was cold, clear and pure, and in color remarkably like the Niagara, as it plunges over the falls. At many places we could see the bottom, and in others it seemed of very great depth. It flowed in placid stillness, unrippled by a single breeze, between, above and beneath walls of massive and eternal rock. Now the channel was deep, narrow and tortuous, and now it spread out into a broad, pellucid stream. Now the massive ceiling above us was high, and smooth, and beautifully arched; and now it was so rough, broken and low, that we had to stoop as we sat in our boat, in order to pass under it. We did not pass rapidly down this stream. None of us were in a hurry. We seemed scarcely to belong to this driving, go-ahead world. Now a shout echoed wildly and magnificently through the rocky chambers; and now we sat entranced while one of our company, a splendid musician, sang some beautiful song, never as beautiful as now, when it echoed and reëchoed along these walls, and died away in the darkness that our dim lamps could not penetrate. This river, too, is most appropriately named. The echoes are most perfect and beautiful. We experimented in a great variety of ways, singing alone and in concert, shouting, whistling, clapping our hands, and finally, the whole company sung Ortonville. But there was one thing more impressive than all these, and that was silence! We sat in our boat as quietly as possible, no one speaking or moving for some time; and the stillness and the darkness by which we were surrounded, were solemn and awful beyond all description. We were deep in the bowels of the earth, I know not how many feet below its surface, but so low that no ray of light from the sun had ever penetrated its depths, and no voice of loudest thunder had ever waked an echo there. The silence was perfect, save the sound of breathing which each one tried to suppress, and the throbbing of our hearts that
‘Still like muffled drums were beating,