In the rocks near to the Centre Tree is an orifice called "The Devil's Hole." It pierces the mountain obliquely, but without much deviation from a straight line, and a stone thrown down it takes, according to its weight, from nine to twelve seconds to find a resting-place on the floor of the Devil's Coach House! This is an experiment which should not be tried without precaution, and then only under official sanction, otherwise some serious accident may occur. It would be well to erect notice-boards at this and several adjacent places, warning persons not to cast stones into the caverns, for the whole mountain is full of holes and caves and drives. A piece of rock cast heedlessly into a crevice or perforation in one cave might mean death to a tourist in lower cavernous regions, and there is neither medical man nor coroner within convenient distance. From the bridge (which is guarded by wire ropes) on the western side, the visitor looks down on the Elder Cave; the Zigzag is in front, and below is the sylvan valley from which the "ermin'd frost" has been thawed, and which now "laughs back the sun." To the eastward are in view of the spectator the Nettle and Arch Caves gate, the south entrance to the Devil's Coach House, and the waterfall to the Cave River. In the distance can be discerned a place known as Oaky Camp, or McEwan's Camp, which is of interest in connection with bushranging episodes of the olden time. From the highest point of the hill over the Grand Archway the cave-house can be seen nestling in the valley 500 feet below. Perched upon this pinnacle, with terrible depths on each side and awe-inspiring grandeur at every turn, the beholder is apt to realise how very small is the space he fills in the economy of Nature, how inadequate is language to express deep emotions of the mind, and how marvellous are the works of the Creator!
[CHAPTER IX.]
THE ELDER CAVE.
On leaving-the Carlotta Arch and the bridge, the visitor—mentally gratified, physically tired, and conscious that his perceptive faculties have been somewhat strained—rejoices that the cave-house is conveniently near, so that he can promptly ensconce himself in an easy-chair and meditate upon the charming scenes upon which his eyes have feasted. If he be unusually robust he may economise the return journey by taking a peep at the Elder Cave, which lies just off his homeward course. It derives its name from the elder trees which grow about it and conceal its entrance, which is at the bottom of a "ragged" shaft similar to that described in the tragedy of "Titus Andronicus," whose authorship is disputed, but which Samuel Phelps and others have no doubt was written by Shakespeare. It resembles the "subtle hole" where Bassianus lay imbrued "all of a heap like a slaughtered lamb." But that was near an alder, and not an elder, tree; and, so far as is known, the pit which leads to the Elder Cave has no associations so tragic as those which are inseparable from the horrible brutalities of "Titus Andronicus." Its mouth is not covered with "rude growing briars," nor are there upon the leaves "drips of new-shed blood as fresh as morning dew distilled on flowers." On the contrary, it is a rather cheerful-looking pit, filled up with foliage like an arborescent bouquet in an enormous natural vase. For a long time its cavity was completely obscured by the leafy covering, and it was first entered by climbing along a branch level with the surface of the ground, and descending the trunk of the tree to the bottom of the well. There are several elders in the pit, which, being unusually moist, is favourable to their growth, and they bear splendid cymes of cream-coloured flowers and black berries suggestive of spiced home-made wine.
The Elder Cave was found by Mr. Wilson in 1856, but it has not had much attention bestowed upon it, probably because its beauties have been eclipsed by later discoveries. The first part consists of some rather large chambers connected by small passages, rough inside, and difficult to explore. All are pretty, and one, named "The Chapel," contains stalactites called "shawls," on account of their resemblance to ladies' vestments so designated. One of these is about five feet long by six inches deep, and a quarter of an inch thick. Half of it is of glassy clearness. The floor is of ornate formation. The next chamber is called the "Coral Cave." It is difficult of access. The way for about 100 yards varies from only two to four feet from floor to ceiling. Nearly at the end is a hole about 12 feet in diameter and 15 feet deep, containing fossil bones. From floor to roof the formation is grand. There are a few fine stalagmites, but the chief beauty is in the stalactitic growth. Many of the stalactites hang from the lowest shelving rock to the floor, and form an alabaster palisade. Immense bunches of snow-white limestone droop from the roof, and one unusually large conical mass tapers off until it connects with the apex of a pyramidal block on the floor. In contrast with these ponderous specimens are numerous straw-like glassy tubes. Portions of the floor are covered with beautiful coral.
Near the mouth of this Pit Cave is an aperture of special interest, because it is the entrance to the shaft at the bottom of which, on the 16th February 1879, the intrepid curator discovered the Imperial Cave, which is one of the most magnificent opened to the public. He made three separate attempts before he was able to bottom this deep black hole. On the first occasion he was lowered into it at the end of a rope, and when all the line had been paid out was dangling in mid-air at the end of his tether. When he was let down a second time with a longer cord it was found to be deficient, and the cave-keeper was still suspended in ebon space. The second failure made him still more resolute. He did not believe that the black hole into which he had descended was the bottomless pit, and so he tried again to fathom its inky depths, and at a distance of 90 feet from the surface alighted upon the rocky floor of what is now called the Imperial Cave.
Cave exploration is not what would be commonly regarded as a pleasant pastime. It requires a lissom body, plenty of physical strength, and a strong nerve to worm along narrow passages, without any certainty of being able to reach a turning-place, and with the risk of being so wedged in as to make retreat impossible. A stout heart is necessary to enable a man to descend to unknown depths of blackness from mouths of fearsome pits, close proximity to which makes one's flesh creep. A fracture of the rope or the falling of a piece of rock might give the explorer his quietus. A somewhat sensational illustration of this kind of peril is given in Griffin's "Studies in Literature." The eldest son of George D. Prentice, one of the sweet singers of the New World, determined to fathom the maelstrom of the Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. A long rope of great strength was procured, and with a heavy fragment of rock attached to it, like a stone at the end of a kellick rope, it was let down and swung about to clear the course of loose stones. "Then the young hero of the occasion, with several hats drawn over his head to protect it as far as possible against any masses falling from above, and with a light in his hand and the rope fastened around his body, took his place over the awful pit, and directed the half-dozen men, who held the end of the rope, to let him down into the Cimmerian gloom. Occasionally masses of earth and rock whizzed past, but none struck him. On his way, at a distance of 100 feet, the spray caused by a cataract which rushed from the side down the abyss nearly extinguished his light. One hundred and ninety feet down he stood on the bottom of the pit. Returning to the mouth of the cave the pull was an exceedingly severe one, and the rope, being ill-adjusted around his body, gave him the most excruciating pain. But soon his pain was forgotten in a new and dreadful peril. When he was 90 feet from the mouth of the pit and 100 from the bottom, swaying and swinging in mid air, he heard rapid and excited words of horror and alarm above, and soon learned that the rope by which he was upheld had taken fire from the friction of the timber over which it passed. Several moments of awful suspense to those above, and still more awful to him below, ensued. To them and to him a fatal and instant catastrophe seemed inevitable. But the fire was extinguished with a bottle of water belonging to himself, and then the party above, though almost exhausted by their labour, succeeded in drawing him to the top. He was as calm and self-possessed as upon his entrance into the pit; but all of his companions, overcome by fatigue, sank down upon the ground, and his friend, Professor Wright, from over-exertion and excitement, fainted, and remained for some time insensible. The young adventurer left his name carved in the depths of the maelstrom—the name of the first and only person that ever gazed upon its mysteries."