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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51187 ***</div>
<div id="cover" class="img">
<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="A Visit to the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky" width="500" height="791" />
</div>
<div class="box">
<h1>A VISIT
<br /><span class="smallest">TO</span>
<br />THE MAMMOTH CAVE OF KENTUCKY.</h1>
<p class="tbcenter">BY JOHN WILSON,</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smaller">THE SCOTTISH VOCALIST.</span></p>
<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">EDINBURGH: 1849.</span></p>
</div>
<div class="pb" id="Page_3">3</div>
<h1 title="">A VISIT
<br /><span class="smaller">TO</span>
<br />THE MAMMOTH CAVE OF KENTUCKY.</h1>
<p class="jr1"><span class="small">Mammoth Cave, Kentucky, May 20, 1849.</span></p>
<p>We left the City of Rooks, as Nashville is called, on
Thursday morning at half-past four, and travelled ninety
miles to our place of destination for the night, which occupied
19 hours. The stages in this part of the country lose
a great deal of time needlessly by stopping for meals a great
deal oftener than people require them. During our ride
we had breakfast at 21 miles from Nashville, at a place
called Tyree Springs, and that was acceptable enough; but
before it was well digested we had to stop for dinner, and
then again for supper, in three hours more; and as the
people in this last hotel, which was at a pretty little town
called Bowling Green, did not wish to be at the trouble of
making one supper for their own boarders and another for
the coach travellers, we were compelled to “bide their
time” though not any of us wanted supper at all, and here
we lost an hour and a half. In our journey we were interested
in the day time by the great variety of wild flowers
we saw, and after dark by the crowds of fire-flies in the
air, in the trees, in the fields. We reached Bell’s,<a class="fn" id="fr_1" href="#fn_1">[1]</a> where
we were to stay for the night, at half-past 11, where we
might have had another meal, but we did not like. Bell, a
civil old fellow, is famed for making a kind of Atholl brose,
of old peach brandy and honey, which we had a tasting of,
and then went to bed; but Mr Bell’s brose I shall never
taste again, for although it is pleasant enough to taste, yet
I could not get the disagreeable flavour of the peach brandy
out of my mouth the whole of the next day. After a capital
<span class="pb" id="Page_4">4</span>
breakfast, Bell sent us in a four horse stage to the Mammoth
Cave, a distance of eight miles, over one of the roughest
roads I ever encountered; but what we have seen in this
wonderful place amply compensates for any trouble or difficulty
we may have undergone. I am really quite at a loss
how to begin to give you the least idea of the place, for it
is almost beyond description; at all events I feel quite sure
that any kind of description given in writing, by any mortal
man, cannot afford to a stranger the smallest notion of the
wondrousness, the sublimity, the awfulness of this cave—this
stupendous work of Nature. First let me tell you,
however, that it contains 226 avenues; at least that number
has been discovered, for there are more than that;
forty-seven domes, eight cataracts, pits innumerable, and
eight rivers, only three of which have been explored. It
was first discovered by the whites in 1802, and during the
last war with England immense quantities of saltpetre were
made in it, the remains of the utensils for the manufacture
of which are still to be seen at a short distance from the
entrance, and even the marks of the hoofs of the oxen the
miners used can be traced in the ground. It is only about
ten years since the curious began to visit the cave, and
every year the visitors increase in number, and they must
continue to do so as the wonders of the place become more
talked of. About the end of June is the time for crowds
coming, and there is ample accommodation for more than
two hundred people in a very comfortable hotel, with an
obliging and intelligent host, named Mosher. There is no
other visitor here at present but ourselves. Having given
you so much preliminary, I shall endeavour to give you an
inkling of what we saw during our</p>
<h2 id="c1">FIRST DAY’S VISIT TO THE MAMMOTH CAVE.</h2>
<p>The necessary alterations having been made in the costume
of my two daughters, namely, the petticoats being shortened,
and trousers being donned—pants, I ought to have said, for
trousers are never named here, and breeches are never made—and
caps being placed upon their craniums, a gentleman, who
accompanied us from Nashville, and myself, having been provided
with coats that had been coats once, and low-crowned
soft hats, we set off for the cave. We were fortunate in getting
the services of the favourite guide Stephen, to whom we
had a letter from a lady in Nashville. He is an active, intelligent,
attentive, capital fellow, and after walking some 200
yards through an avenue of shady trees, we found him near
the entrance, with his lamps ready to light, his flask of oil on
his back, and one basket of provisions. We descended by
about thirty rude steps to the entrance, where our lamps
being lighted, we bade farewell for a while to the light of
day. In a very short time we come to a wall that had been
built by the miners, and in which there is a door-way, inside
<span class="pb" id="Page_5">5</span>
of which we are fairly in the cave. The temperature of the
cave is always at sixty, and when the temperature out of
doors is higher, the air rushes out at this doorway, so as to
blow out the lamps, if the command of the guide is not
obeyed to keep your lamps before you. At first one cannot
see very well—the eyes are not yet accustomed to penetrate
the darkness—the lamps only tended to make the darkness
more visible. By and by we get more used to it. The
“Church,” as it is called, is the first apartment where we make
a halt. It is very large, with galleries round it, and a projection
of rock at one side, called the pulpit. Being told by
the guide to put our lights behind us, he set fire to a Bengal
light, and then we were struck with wonder and awe at the
splendour and the vastness of the rocky apartment. For
size, Exeter Hall is nothing to it. During the season
service is performed in it by some of the clergymen visitors,
and the effect must be very sublime, to see each worshipper
sitting with his lamp, listening to the Word, joining in
prayer to the Lord of all, and singing his praises. Each
person enters with his lamp, of course, but on coming to the
church the lamps are all placed together, so as to make one
general grand light. The church is in the “Main Cave,”
which is five miles in extent, and as we move along we see the
marks of the action of the water upon the rocks in every part.
The average height is 50 feet, its width 100 feet; at one
place, however, it is 340 feet wide. We leave the Main
Cave, and enter the “Gothic Avenue,” where the first apartment
we come to is called the “Haunted Chamber,”
from two mummies having been found there by the miners
in 1809. They were in a sitting position, and clothed with
deer-skins. One of them is now in a museum in New York;
the other was burned by the museum in Cincinnati taking
fire. The friend who was with me being somewhat of a
utility sort of a person, wishes everything to be made proper
use of, and suggested that the cave would be a capital place
for keeping meat, vegetables, &c., when he was told by
Stephen, much to his satisfaction, that the hotel people used
it for that purpose. We go along farther, and soon find
ourselves in the “Register Room,” which has, or rather had,
a beautiful white ceiling, but it is now considerably defaced
by many persons wishing to immortalise themselves by writing
their names on the roof with the smoke of a candle.
They must have had the candle attached to a pretty long
pole, for the roof is high. I. B. of old England is one of
the names; I suppose John Bull is meant. There is also a
Mr John Smith—it does not state where his locale is, but it
is not unlikely that it was Mr Smith of the United States.
After passing “Vulcan’s Forge,” so called from the stone
resembling very much the refuse of a forge, we come to the
“Gothic Chapel.” Before entering it, however, Stephen
takes our lamps, and leaves us in the dark for a time, while
<span class="pb" id="Page_6">6</span>
he goes and places them on the stalactite pillar in the chapel.
He calls out to us to “come on—there’s nothing to stumble
over,” and we advanced towards the chapel. How splendid!
how beautiful! The stalactite pillars are all opposite to
each other, as if they were really supporting the roof. It
reminded me of the crypt under the Cathedral at Rochester,
in Kent, excepting that here the pillars were translucent.
About ten or twelve feet high are the pillars, and the stalactite
formations are still going on in some of them. It has
been ascertained, it seems, that it takes thirty years to form
the thickness of a wafer, then how many times thirty years
must it have taken to form these pillars! It was a solemn
scene, the stillness was indeed quite awful. I broke the
silence by singing Luther’s Hymn, while those around me
stood like statues. We came next to what is called
“Napoleon’s Breastwork,” an immense block of limestone,
that has evidently fallen away from the roof at some time
or other, and now lies in a slanting form. It is about 60
feet long, 20 feet to the top, and looks over into a deep
ravine. Now we come to his Satanic Majesty’s “Armchair,”
which is the name given to a splendid stalactite column in the
centre of a chamber, and which on one side forms an excellent
seat. The back is round, and like one of the old fashioned
chairs stuffed, and covered with silk. You may have an idea
of the size of it when I tell you that it takes three men’s arms
to go round it. Not far from it is another stalactite formation
called the “Elephant’s Head,” from its exact resemblance
to one—the eyes, ears, and trunk, are perfect—some
barbarian, however, has defaced the trunk. Now we
approach the “Lover’s Leap,” where any hapless swain
may have an opportunity of getting rid of all his earthly
cares by taking a dismal leap of 50 feet, but no one has yet
been desperate enough to do it. We descend to the left of
the “Lover’s Leap” and presently enter an extraordinary
passage in the rock, called the “Devil’s Elbow;” it is about
three feet wide and twelve high, and leads to the lower
branch of the Gothic Avenue. The stone of the passage
bears evidence of water having rushed through it with tremendous
force, though how long ago it is impossible to
ascertain. One of the guides got a terrible fright here
some time since, by a gentleman who was gifted with ventriloquial
powers. He had arrived at the hotel in the evening,
and requested a guide to accompany him to the cave.
While they were standing over the “Lover’s Leap” he
made a cry for “lights and some water,” which seemed to
come through the “Devil’s Elbow” from the apartment
below. The guide, fancying it was some one of his companions
whose lamp had gone out, called out to him to stay
where he was and he would come to him immediately; as
he was descending by the Devil’s Elbow the voice came
from another part in front of them. He returned, and
<span class="pb" id="Page_7">7</span>
was ascending again to the Lover’s Leap, when the voice
once more came through the Elbow, at which he became
considerably alarmed, and it was with great difficulty the
gentleman could prevent him from running fairly off out of
the cave, and leaving him in the lurch, which perhaps he
deserved. On their return to the hotel the guide told the
landlord a woful story, in the midst of which, however,
he was stopped by some one coming in to say there was a
maniac about the grounds, when they went out and heard
a voice calling out for some tea and bread and butter.
“That’s it!” he said, “that’s the same voice that was in the
cave.” The ventriloquist made the landlord aware of the
trick, and the mysterious affair ended with a hearty laugh
at the poor alarmed guide’s expense. As we enter this
part of the Gothic Avenue, we come to a basin of beautiful
clear water, called the “Cooling Tub.” It is about
six feet wide, and a stream of the purest water is falling
constantly into it from the ceiling, which is here about thirty
feet high. In various parts of the cave there are streams
of this description, and the sound of this falling water is the
only thing that breaks the awful stillness that constantly
reigns. After passing “Napoleon’s Dome,” which is about
sixty feet in height, we come to another little pool, called
“Lake Purity,” the water in which is delicious to drink, so
pure that no disturbance can thicken it. Now we retrace
our steps to the “Main Cave,” where at almost every step
we take some new wonder is opened up to us. We are in
an apartment called the “Ball Room,” for it is frequently
used as such by the visitors during the season. The floor
is smooth and level, and continues so for several hundred
feet, so that there is plenty of room for a large party. There
are spacious galleries above, too, formed by the ledging
rocks; and there is an orchestra, capable of holding twice
the number of the Philharmonic Band. As we go along gazing
in wonder at everything, the eye suddenly rests on a nice
little niche in the wall, just like the niche that is at the door
of a Roman Catholic Cathedral for holding the holy water.
It has been formed by the trickling down of the water, and
is called Wandering Willie’s Spring; as I have considerable
regard for all Wandering Willies, I partook of the water
of his spring, and can vouch for its purity and refreshing
qualities. The “Standing Rocks” that we by and by approach,
are immense blocks of stone that have evidently
fallen from the roof, some of them twenty feet long, and six
or eight feet thick, and many of them even larger, and what
is something remarkable, it is the thinnest part of the stone
that has sunk into the earth. The next very prominent
object we come to is the “Giant’s Coffin,” an immense block
of limestone that has evidently fallen away from the side,
and which perfectly resembles a coffin, but may well be
called a giant’s, for it is sixty feet long and about twenty
<span class="pb" id="Page_8">8</span>
feet thick. It has the curved lid which I have observed in
the fashionable coffins in the south, and which I heard an
auctioneer, who was selling some by auction, recommend
as being much more accommodating than the plain lids, for
the person could turn round whenever he felt inclined to do
so. At some distance beyond this, perhaps 150 yards, the
cave takes a gigantic turn, called the “Acute Angle,” or
“Great Bend,” which the guide illumines by one of his
Bengal lights, and displays to the astonished spectator one
of the most wonderful sights that ever mortal eyes beheld.
It has the appearance of a vast amphitheatre. It must be
about seventy feet high. In front of us is the great cornerstone
or bend, and on each side the avenue looms away
into unfathomable darkness. The Bengal light dies, and we
trudge along to the right, with our lamps in our hands,
single file, with Stephen at the head, and ere long he says,
“Stop, we are now in the ‘Star-Chamber.’” Wonders will
never cease, for here is something more wonderful than
anything we have yet seen. How can I convey to you an
idea of it? Let me see. It is as if we were at the bottom
of a deep ravine or pass, about sixty feet wide, and one
hundred feet high, the top of the ravine being terminated
by jutting-out rocks, and above those projecting rocks we
see the blue firmament of heaven, as it were, with the stars
shining above us. The rocks at the top are white in many
places, and cloud-like, which shows the starry firmament to
greater advantage. The stars are formed by the sparkling
gypsum in the dark limestone, and a more complete optical
illusion dame Nature never called into existence. We felt
as if we should never tire gazing on this, and expatiating
to each other upon its wonders. Stephen asked us how we
should like to have all the lights extinguished, to try the
effect of it in that way, which we readily agreed to; but
not a particle of anything could we see. There was, of
course, not the smallest ray of light—there could not be,
for we were two miles from the mouth of the cave, and
170 feet below the surface of the earth. I put my finger
close to my eye but could see nothing. When no one spoke
the silence was awful. I don’t know what the others were
thinking of in the midst of this total eclipse, but I could not
help thinking, now, if Stephen should have forgot his matches
we shall be in a fine <i>fix</i>. I spoke to him of this afterwards,
when he said he should soon have got lights for us if he had
forgot his matches, for he knows the cave so well, having been
a guide in it for thirteen years, that he could have forced his
way to the mouth. This Star-Chamber is one of the most
pleasing sights in the cave. Not far from it are the remains
of some small houses that were built some years ago for
consumptive patients. The air is so pure and the temperature
so equal, that they enjoyed very good health while
they remained in the cave, but as soon as they went above
<span class="pb" id="Page_9">9</span>
ground they became as bad as ever; the idea, therefore, of
making the cave an hospital for consumption has been
abandoned. I forgot to say that while we were admiring
the wonder of the Starry Chamber we sang a sacred trio,
the effect of which was beautiful, for everything was so still—no
interruption by whisperers, or those persons who are
not aware that it is the height of rudeness to speak while any
one is singing—the voices sounded large and full. The
sublimity of the scene could not altogether withdraw the
attention of our utility friend from the things of this earth, for
while we were gazing in astonishment on the scene around
us, he asked me whether, as I came from London, I had
ever seen a work on the art of brewing by fermentation,
and without yeast! The Star-Chamber was the extent of
our walk in the Main Cave to-day. We returned as far as the
Giant’s Coffin, behind which we entered an avenue, and
descended some 12 or 14 steps, then through a very low
and narrow passage into the “Deserted Chambers,” which
we got to by crawling some part of the way on our hands
and knees. The first of the Deserted Chambers is called
the Wooden Bowl, from the fact of a wooden bowl having
been found in it by the miners some years ago. At a short
distance from this bowl we stopped to dine, sitting on the
edge of a large flat rock, which we used as a dining-table.
Close by there was a spring of clear delicious water. We
enjoyed our repast amazingly; drank, in the pure, unadulterated
water, to all our friends round St Paul’s; had some
songs after dinner, then resumed our walk. Our attention
was first directed to the “Sidesaddle Pit,” which is about 60
feet deep; and to prevent one’s having a chance of falling
into it, it is railed round by spars of sassafras tree, on one
of which are two sprouts, which made their appearance
about a month ago, and are looked upon with interest, for
there is no other sign of vegetation within the place. The
ceiling here, from water oozing through the stone, is just
like honeycomb. A little further on we come to the
“Bottomless Pit,” a frightful chasm with a fragile wooden
bridge across it. A piece of lighted paper thrown from the
bridge into the pit, shows us the depth of it, which, from the
water to the top of the dome above us, is 280 feet. As we
found that the splendid dome over head had no name, we
called it St Paul’s, and insisted that Stephen should henceforth
call it by that name, and no other.</p>
<p>As we go along we see on the roof of the avenue the most
beautiful stalactite formations—rosettes, &c., in innumerable
variety; there is indeed here a mixture of the sublime
and beautiful. We come to the “Wild Hall,” well named
from its appearance, go through the “Arch,” which is one
of the most-beautifully formed natural arches that can be
seen, return through what is called the Labyrinth, and go
to “Gorin’s Dome.” Much as we had seen to astonish us,
<span class="pb" id="Page_10">10</span>
we were not prepared for the magnificence of the scene we
were now to witness. Stephen placed us at an aperture
about the ordinary size of a window, told us to lay down
our lamps behind us, then he left us. By and by we discovered
him on a point a considerable way above us, and he
lighted one of his Bengals and unfolded the wonders of the
dome to us. It is nearly 300 feet in height, and we were
standing about half way up. The sides of the dome are
fluted, and have the appearance of having been polished, for
the water is still trickling down. It is utterly impossible to
give any idea of the splendour of this place when lighted
up. We had not seen half enough of it. We called for
another Bengal light, but Stephen had not one more left,
so we were obliged to leave, which we did, expressing our
determination to visit the dome again in our next ramble.</p>
<p>We had now been five hours in the cave, and as we had
more than two miles to walk to the mouth, we set off on our
homeward route, and passed again some of our old acquaintances,
the Giant’s Coffin, the Church, walked a little way
down “Audribow’s Avenue,” and finally we saw the light
of day glimmering before us, and as we drew nearer to the
mouth I thought the sun never shone so beautifully before,
and that the green grass and the foliage of the trees, in fact
the whole face of nature, was more lovely than ever. When
fairly out of the cave we felt as if hot air was being blown
upon us, so oppressively warm did the atmosphere feel. And
so finished our first day in the Mammoth Cave. We returned
to the hotel, spent the evening in thinking over
and talking of the wonders we had seen, then went to bed
pretty early, to prepare ourselves for being up betimes to
start upon our second day’s ramble.</p>
<h2 id="c2">SECOND DAY’S RAMBLE.</h2>
<p>To-day there were three grand points of the cave which
we hoped to visit, namely, the Chief City or Temple, the
Mammoth Dome, and the Fairy Grotto. We entered about
seven o’clock, after a capital breakfast at the hotel, and
passed over a good deal of the ground we visited yesterday.
We left Audribow’s Avenue on our left, came to the Church
again, which we could not help taking another look at, went
on through the Main Cave, passing the Giant’s Coffin,
coming to the Great Bend, then entering again the Star
Chamber, through which we passed, and came to the Salts
Room; here there are layers of salts in the sides of the
chamber, and from the roof they hang in crystals. They
taste very pure, and not at all unpleasant, and are used
medicinally by the people in the neighbourhood of the cave,
when they can coax any of the guides to bring them a supply.
By kindling a fire in this apartment, or putting all the
lamps together so as to create a tolerable heat, the salt
<span class="pb" id="Page_11">11</span>
comes down in flakes like a fall of fleecy snow. As we
trudge along the Main Cave (so called because all the other
avenues branch off from it), the mind cannot but be filled
with awe while contemplating the wonders of this immense
tunnel. It is as if we were walking through the bed of a
river, and the ceiling, generally about sixty feet high, looks
something like a cloudy sky; indeed, one part of it is called
the Floating Clouds. Soon, however, our ceiling becomes
very low, and our road very rough; we are compelled to
crawl a considerable way on our hands and knees, and are
not at all displeased when we reach the Banquet Hall, for
here there is plenty of room to stand up, the ceiling being
40 feet high, and the width of the apartment about 700 feet.
We were very glad to sit down too, and Stephen went to a
distance and lighted one of his Bengal lights, which showed
us the glories of this immense apartment. While we were
resting here Stephen sang some negro songs very well—a
merry fellow is Stephen, and has a good voice. One of his
ditties pleased us very much—it was about uncle Ned, an
old nigger, who died long ago, and who had no wool on de
top ob his head, de place where de wool ought to grow. I
sang my poor friend Rooke’s song of “My Boyhood’s
Home,” from Amilie, and then we resumed our journey,
passing by two cataracts, each of which falls about 50 feet.
Our road was very difficult, indeed, and exceedingly toilsome,
notwithstanding the fact that one can undergo a great
deal more fatigue in the cave than it is possible to do in the
open air; but when we reached the point at which we were
aiming, our toils were amply repaid by the magnificence of
the Chief City, or Temple. This dome is 120 feet high, the
roof being of smooth solid rock; it is 300 feet across, and
960 feet in length. In the middle of it is a large heap of
stones called the Mountain, up which we clambered to see
this immense area of darkness illuminated. It is impossible
to conceive anything more sublime than this rocky hall
when lighted up by the Bengal; and it is as impossible for
words to convey to one who has never seen it the least idea
of its magnificence. But the light went out too soon. “Another
Bengal! another Bengal! Stephen!” was the cry
that immediately burst from every one. “Ah!” said Stephen,
“I knew that would be the case.” He then formed a light
not quite so brilliant as the Bengal, but which lasted longer,
and in whose softness there was more awe in contemplating
this vast place. We remained here a long time, sometimes
in dismal silence, and sometimes breathing forth a sacred
song, or one of a serious character, for one of any other description
would have been quite out of place. Moore’s “Oft
in the stilly night” I sang very softly, but it sounded immensely
in the silence; and, if I may judge of the effect of
it upon Stephen, it was very solemn, for he said it made him
cry. He sang us no more nigger songs till we were fairly
<span class="pb" id="Page_12">12</span>
out of the Temple. We turned our steps now towards the
Fairy Grotto, the way to which is also very difficult—a great
deal of crawling again under low ceilings, but which is
generally got over very good-humouredly, each one’s mishaps
causing a hearty laugh to the others. When you reach
the apartment you discover that it is not inaptly named the
Fairy Grotto, and are soon rapt in admiration of the beautiful
stalactites before you. The lamps are placed in the
pillars and other parts of the grotto, in the same way as at
the Gothic Chapel, and the effect is very fine. The stalactites
were once whiter than they are now, for the smoke of
the lamps has darkened them not a little. While admiring
the endless variety of stalactite beauties before us, one cannot
help feeling sorry that visitors should be so barbarous
as to break them off, for they but rarely can get a rosette
or anything else whole; they therefore spoil the beauty of
the grotto, without being able to carry away a satisfactory
trophy of their destructive deeds. The stalactite formations
are still going on in the grotto, for the water
is constantly oozing through, and many a crystal drop may
be seen hanging from the end of the bunch of beauties
already formed. There are some thick massy pillars, some
stalactites and stalagmites not yet met—the stalagmite is
the formation on the ground caused by the dropping of the
water from the stalactite, which hangs as it were from the
roof; many of them are beautifully and fantastically shaped,
and the effect of the light shining through them is rich
in the extreme. After feasting our eyes on this splendid
scene, we left the Solitary Cave, and entered again the Main
Cave, and when we got as far as the Giant’s Coffin, we once
more dived down behind it into the Deserted Chambers, and
passing through the Wooden Bowl, we regained our dining-hall
of yesterday, and finding ourselves quite ready for a repast,
we again dined here, and drank of the clear delicious
spring, and after a long rest and chat, and some music, we
set out on our further travels. We soon came to the Bottomless
Pit, and our new-named St Paul’s Dome, and passing
on entered the Valley of Humility, so called from the visitor
being obliged to stoop very much while walking through it,
for it is only about four feet high; a short avenue takes us
to the Winding Way, otherwise called the Fat Man’s Misery,
a most extraordinary freak of nature. It is 109 yards long,
and about 15 inches broad, and of solid rock. It widens
about three feet from the ground, so that one has play for
his arms; but it keeps constantly winding, there being not
more than two or three feet straight at a stretch, and must
perplex very much any tolerably stout person who finds
himself winding through it. Although it is called the Fat
Man’s Misery, yet it has sometimes proved the fat woman’s
misery too, for a very stout lady, if there is such a thing in
the world, got into it once, and stuck fairly. The appendix,
<span class="pb" id="Page_13">13</span>
to her quite unnecessary, of a bustle, was squeezed out of
existence; and in winding her way, she nearly winded herself;
she breathed fast, but stuck faster; she, being so great,
became greatly alarmed, and her friends were compelled to
haul her through till they got into Great Relief, which the
avenue at the end of the Winding Way is very appropriately
called, and which she frankly confessed was the greatest
relief to her that she had ever in her life experienced. In
the avenue of Great Relief we saw the point to which the
river rose in January last, which is fifty-six feet above its
usual level. In going along we come to two routes, one of
which leads to the river, where we intend going to-morrow,
and another to the Mammoth Dome, whither we now steer
our course. We come first, however, to the Bacon Chamber,
another curious freak of dame Nature; the ceiling is
low, and has the appearance of being hung with canvass covered
bacon hams and shoulders, so curiously has the action
of the water formed these stones. There is another curious
formation in this chamber. In a part of the ceiling there is
the appearance of a stratum having dropped out for about
20 feet, about one foot broad, and the same in height, and
the vacuum is in the form of a serpent. Our next place to
gaze at is the Bandit’s Hall, a wonderfully wild looking
apartment of great magnitude, the floor being covered with
rocks of various sizes, that have evidently fallen from the
ceiling. It was like being among some wild rocky mountains,
with the sky far above us, and when lighted up was
a magnificent spectacle of wild rugged scenery. Now for
the Mammoth Dome. We sincerely hope it may be something
worth looking at when we get to it, for our way is
the most difficult, tedious, and toilsome that we have yet
encountered; by this time, however, we were getting quite
expert at creeping, and going sometimes in crab fashion,
sidewise on our hands and feet. At last we emerge out of
a hole, and find ourselves standing on the brink of a precipice,
and hear the falling of water from a great height,
and by the dim glimmer of our lights we see that there is
something before us awfully grand and stupendous, and this
is the Mammoth Dome! But we do not see it yet as we shall
see it; we must descend 20 feet by a crazy-looking ladder,
on which human foot has not been since last summer, in
order that we may see the dome in all its glory. Well, we
are down, and not a very easy task it is to get down; and
we are standing there enjoying a kind of shower bath, while
Stephen goes upon a height to light up—and when he does
light up we forget the water that is showering down upon
us—we forget everything but the grand scene before us.
We look on the vast space lighted up, and we see the sides
of this immense dome, or tower it might be called, for it is
nearly four hundred feet high, fluted, polished, here pillars,
there capitals of the most elaborate description, as if the
<span class="pb" id="Page_14">14</span>
cunningest hand of the cunningest craftsman had been
there—ay, and has he not been there? It is something
like Gorin’s Dome, which we saw yesterday, but much
larger. It may well be called the greatest wonder of this
wondrous place. Stephen must give us another Bengal.
Again we gaze in astonishment at this unparalleled wonder,
and see beauties we did not see before. The light fades and
dies, and again deep impenetrable gloom holds its sway. We
ascend the ladder to our old ledge of rock at the mouth of
the hole by which we must return, and feel thankful when
we find ourselves safely at the top of it, take one last look
at the dome, and then retrace our steps. When this dome
was discovered in 1842, a lamp was found at the bottom of
it, which puzzled the finders not a little as to how it could
have got there. Inquiry was made of an old man who lives
near the cave, and who worked in it when a boy at the saltpetre
factories, and he remembers of a man being let down
by a rope to look for saltpetre, and that he dropped his
lamp. What a situation to be in! Dangling at the end of
a rope in the dark, with perhaps a vacuum of 300 feet below
him! We now set off for the mouth of the cave, and had to
go over the same rough ground we traversed before. Having
been nine hours under ground to-day, and some of our
party being heartily tired, we were very glad to see the
light of heaven again.</p>
<h2 id="c3">THIRD DAY’S RAMBLE.</h2>
<p>Although we had a day’s rest yesterday, it being Sunday,
my eldest daughter was not sufficiently recovered from the
fatigues of Saturday to encounter another day’s journeying
in the cave, which might perhaps be more fatiguing than
any we had yet undergone, and so my youngest and myself
sallied forth, both of us being very anxious to see the ferlies
across the river. It has been doubtful for some days whether
we should be able to cross the river, for, like all the rivers for
a considerable time past, it has been so high that there has
not been sufficient room for a boat to pass between the river
and the rocky ceiling above. However, Green River, which
flows at about half a mile’s distance from the mouth of the
cave, has fallen considerably since last night, which affords
some hope that the river in the cave may also have fallen,
and Stephen assures us that he will get us to the other side
some way or other, if we should go through Purgatory,
which he suspects we shall have to do. We take an additional
guide with us, named Alfred, in case his services
may be required. We trudge along the Main (and at a
pretty smart pace), till we reach the Giant’s Coffin, behind
which we again descend, and go through the Deserted
Chambers, pass the Bottomless Pit and again get into the
Winding Way, through which having winded, we leave the
<span class="pb" id="Page_15">15</span>
Bacon Chamber on the right, and take the passage to the
left, which leads to the Dead Sea, which may be seen by looking
over a precipice, and sending a blazing piece of paper
to the regions below. At eighty feet distance it reaches the
still water of the Dead Sea. We journey on through avenues
till we reach the River Styx, which we cross in a boat,
then we walk a little farther till we get to Lethe. We sail
along it in our frail bark till the water becomes so shallow
that we can go no farther. Echo River is the great one we
have to cross, and as the guides are uncertain about the state
of it, they leave us till they ascertain by what means we are
to get to the other side. It was no very delightful situation
for solitary helpless individuals to be left alone in a boat in the
middle of a river so far under the face of the earth, and with no
sound of anything near us save the trickling of invisible waterfalls,
and nothing with any sign of life but gnats that fluttered
about our lamps, and now and then a large cricket
with immense long legs, but there was no “hearth” for it to
be on, nor did it chirp. In this river are the eyeless fish;
there are two kinds of them, neither having the least resemblance
of a place for an eye, for, of course, they have no
need of eyes. The solitariness of such a scene can scarcely
be conceived. However, we must not think of it; we sang
and chatted. The echo was magnificent, and sounding
chords afforded us some amusement. The four notes of the
chord, sounded by one voice, continued to sound altogether
for a very long time, and at length died away by almost inaudible
sounds. After being in this lonely situation for an
hour, we were cheered by hearing the voices of the guides,
singing at a long distance from us. As they came nearer we
discovered that it was “Auld lang syne” they were singing,
and I am sure I never heard that favourite air with greater
pleasure or satisfaction. At length the glimmer of the lamps
is seen in the distant darkness, and the guides approach us,
awakening the echoes with “Oh, Susanna,” “Old Uncle
Ned,” and other negro ditties. We learn that we cannot
embark at the usual place, but must go round by Purgatory
Avenue. They have to carry us through the shallow water
about fifty yards, till we come to walking ground, then we
reach a ferry which we cross in a boat, and Alfred takes the
boat through the archway at the usual place for embarking,
to meet us at the end of the avenue; for we hear the water
splashing against the ceiling, and we cannot go that way. He
must lie down flat in the boat, and get through as he best can.
We reach the point of the river where he had come to, and
there is no sign of him. We wait patiently for a time, and at
length the awful silence is broken by the sounds of his voice,
singing to let us know he has got through in safety. The effect
of the solitary lamp on the water is astounding. We now
all embark, and sing our way down the Echo River for about
a quarter of a mile, when we get out, and walk again for
<span class="pb" id="Page_16">16</span>
some distance, then cross the river again, on Stephen’s back,
and at last we are fairly on the other side. The river was discovered
in 1839, and first crossed in 1841. As we go along,
although we are fifty or sixty feet above the river, marks
of its recent rise are visible, for the sand is very wet, and
our road very slippery. The avenue in which we now are
must have been filled with water to the very ceiling, and
our path is an awfully wild one, strewed with immense rocks
that have fallen from above, and the ceiling is like a dark
midnight sky. The walls are beautifully ornamented with
rosettes, &c., of stalactite in great profusion. We are now
in Lillyman’s Avenue, and have come to a bend, something
like the Great Bend on the other side of the river. This
bend resembles exactly the stern of a large ship, and we see
it as if we were in the water looking up at it. It is called
the Great Western. The avenue, which is two miles long,
is terminated by an apartment called Ole Bull’s Concert
Room, for here the great violinist discoursed eloquent music
to a large party whom he accompanied into the cave some
years ago. We now enter the Pass of El Ghor, which is
two miles long, very narrow, that is, it averages a breadth
of six or eight feet, and a height of about fifteen or
eighteen. There is a singular-looking place in it called
The Hanging Rocks, which are immense blocks of stone
rent from the roof, and hanging as it were in air, ready
to annihilate any half-hundred people that may venture
under them, but fortunately they don’t. We leave the
Pass, and enter Spring-side, when we ascend a ladder
about fifteen feet into a place called Mary’s Vineyard,
one of the most extraordinary freaks in the whole
cave. It looks as if all the dark coloured grapes had
been collected from half the vineyards on the Rhine
and deposited here. The clusters are perfect, and the
formations are still going on. It was lighted up with a
Bengal, and the effect of it is indescribable. We pass on
to Washington Hall, or the Spar Chamber, as it is sometimes
called, a large and beautiful apartment, where the
walls and roof are covered with beautiful ornaments, and
by and by we reach the Snow-ball Room, which has the
appearance of there having been a formidable battery of
snow-balls directed against the roof, many of which are
beautifully formed, like large white roses. We proceed to
Cleveland’s Cabinet, which is about two miles in length, and
filled with stalactite beauties, various parts of it being distinguished
by particular names, such as Mary’s Bower, a beautiful
part—St Cecilia’s Grotto, Charlotte’s Grotto, Mary
Reedie’s Festoon, &c., the walls of the whole for several miles
being covered with rosettes, Prince of Wales’ feathers, tulips,
lilies, &c., and often we see a piece like a richly carved Corinthian
capital. We must not forget the Diamond Grotto, where,
by holding your lamp behind you, a never-ending profusion
<span class="pb" id="Page_17">17</span>
of sparkling diamonds is seen among the stalactite beauties.
Many beautiful specimens have fallen on the ground, and
many have been knocked from the place where Nature deposited
them by the ruthless hand of some visitor. We
brought away some specimens with us, but they are very
brittle and very heavy, which makes it difficult to procure
many. It is said there are rats in this part of the cave,
though it is difficult to imagine what they can support
themselves and their families upon, for they cannot exist
on the beautiful ornaments by which they are surrounded
any more than the California miner can live on the gold
he finds; but sometimes they get a chance for food. It is not
long since two young men came from New York with the
determination of exploring the cave. They took provisions
with them to last for three days, and had Stephen for their
guide. They had their blankets with them, and after one
day’s exploration, they fixed on Cleveland’s Cabinet for
their sleeping chamber. When they got up in the morning,
and went for their basket to breakfast before setting out
on their travels, they found every particle of food gone, and
they had a trudge of eight miles to the mouth of the cave
for a breakfast. The rats are different from the usual
species, they leap something like a rabbit, and are very
seldom seen. Beyond Cleveland’s Avenue, we came to the
Rocky Mountains, an exceedingly difficult place to travel
over, then get to the Dismal Hall, a gloomy-looking place,
about 100 feet high—Sereno’s Arbour, well worthy to be
visited, and Medora’s Spring, are at the farthest extent of
the explored part of the cave, and here we are nine miles
from the mouth. We now returned, and saw on our way
the Snow-ball Chamber lighted up with a Bengal, which, if
possible, increased its beauty. We stopped to dine at a
little spring not far from the foot of the ladder by which
we descended from Mary’s Vineyard, and, after resting for
a time, we entered once more the Pass of El Ghor, and
continued our way looking with regret for the last time
upon the many wonders we had already explored. As we
approached the river we found the walking as bad as ever,
but we got over safe. As Alfred was carrying me along
the Styx on his back, he stepped upon a quicksand, and sank
considerably, which I not liking, and being quite ignorant
as to where he was likely to sink to, I jumped from his back,
in spite of Stephen’s shouts to “hold on to him! hold on to
him!” It afforded me a hearty laugh, for the water scarcely
came to my knees, and the exertion of clambering over
rocks, and walking along on the rough road, soon made
all dry. Once on this side the river, we trudged on
nimbly through the Fat Man’s Misery and the Valley of
Humility, and getting into the Main Cave from behind the
Giant’s Coffin again, we were not long in seeing the light of
day. I nearly forgot to mention, that as we were sailing up
<span class="pb" id="Page_18">18</span>
the Echo River on our way home, Alfred, the guide, caught
two of the eyeless fish. They are small, about a finger’s
length, one of them like a minnow, and the other something
like a shrimp. There is not the slightest appearance of eyes
about them. We heard also the sound of a voice at some distance,
which Stephen knew to be that of one of the guides,
and when we got up on the walk about fifty feet above the
river, we saw at a great distance three individuals standing
beside the river, their lamps beside them. The effect was
awfully sepulchral—they looked like beings of the nether
regions. By the by, the place through which we traversed
to the spot where we saw them, is called the Infernal Regions.
The visitors soon joined us, and we left the cave together.
They had only gone to the bank of the river. It
will be long ere we forget our visit to the Mammoth Cave.
The season not commencing till about the end of June,
we had it all to ourselves, and enjoyed it much; but even
when there is a crowd of people there, it must add to the
amusement to meet parties as one rambles through the cave,
though one would scarcely get into such a place for amusement.
It fills the mind with thoughts something deeper than amusement.
No accident of a serious nature has ever happened
in the cave, for the guides are very careful, and every precaution
is taken to prevent accidents. Very soon after the river
was discovered two young gentlemen, accompanied by two
young ladies, went to cross it. They were full of spirits and
too full of fun, for despite the guide’s warning that the boat
was very crazy, they, in getting into it, upset it. Their lamps
were all extinguished, and their matches lost. Fortunately
the guide got them out of the water, and placed them on
some rocks, where they were obliged to remain for several
hours, till the people in the hotel sent to see what detained
them so long in the cave. They were in a terrible fright,
and no wonder. Another gentleman who had left his party,
in his ardour to examine some particular point, lost his way
in attempting to rejoin them, and wandered about shouting
till his lamp went out, when he sat down, and he was thirty
hours alone before they found him. There is no danger if
the parties keep together and with the guide, but to attempt
to find the way oneself were a useless task.<a class="fn" id="fr_2" href="#fn_2">[2]</a> We left the
Mammoth Cave Hotel at six in the evening, and had a
<span class="pb" id="Page_19">19</span>
pleasant ride to Bell’s, at eight miles distance. The road is
through the woods and very rough, but will be smoother by
and by, when there is more traffic on it. Mr Bell has improved
it very much this spring, at his own expense, for he
has the conveying of all the visitors from the house to the
cave, and very reasonably he does it. As I before mentioned,
he is an obliging and attentive old man, Mr Bell, and
if you get into his good graces, he will not be sparing of his
peach brandy and honey, though he very wisely takes none
of it himself; and perhaps he may take you into the garden,
where he will show you something that will strike you as
being very singular, if you are an Englishman. In a corner
of the garden, under a quiet tree, you will see a neat tombstone,
which will tell you that there the old man’s son lies,
and two of that son’s children, and perhaps he may tell you
himself that he is conducting the house and farm for the benefit
of that son’s widow and surviving child, whom he wishes to
see comfortably provided for before he be laid in the quiet
corner beside his son. After spending five hours at Bell’s
we got the stage for Louisville, ninety miles distant, over a
road that is not of the best, and to make it worse there is a
storm brewing, the lightning is flashing, the thunder is roaring,
the rain is coming down in torrents, and the fire flies
are whirling in the air in myriads.</p>
<hr />
<p class="tb"><i>P.S.</i>—This description of the Mammoth Cave, if it may
be called so, was written to a private friend, and not intended
for public perusal—therefore, gentle reader, be not
disappointed at not having discovered finely rounded
periods, or any attempt at high-flown language—be contented
with a plain chat about one of the greatest wonders
of the world, and if you can manage to come across the
Atlantic to see it, do so—you will not then be disappointed,
I promise you, however imperfect may be my description.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_20">20</div>
<h2 id="c4">SCOTIA’S DIRGE:
<br /><span class="small"><span class="smaller">BEING</span></span>
<br /><span class="small">VERSES ON THE DEATH OF JOHN WILSON, <span class="sc">Esq.</span>,
<br />THE SCOTTISH VOCALIST,
<br />Who died at Quebec on the 9th July 1849.</span></h2>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Auld Scotia now may sigh aloud,</p>
<p class="t">Her tears in torrents fa’,</p>
<p class="t0">Her sweetest harp now hangs unstrung,</p>
<p class="t">Since Wilson’s ta’en awa’.</p>
<p class="t0">He sang o’ a’ her warlike deeds,</p>
<p class="t">An’ sons that gallant were—</p>
<p class="t0">Her hoary towers, an’ snaw-clad hills,</p>
<p class="t">An’ maidens sweet and fair.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">His was a harp o’ thrillin’ sound,</p>
<p class="t">Could pleasure aye impart;</p>
<p class="t0">Its melody o’ bygane days</p>
<p class="t">Gaed hame to ilka heart.</p>
<p class="t0">Its strains could bring remembrance back</p>
<p class="t">To youthfu’ days at school;</p>
<p class="t0">Or mak’ us sigh for Scotia’s wrangs,</p>
<p class="t">An’ Flodden’s day o’ dool.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">He sang o’ beauty’s winsome wiles,</p>
<p class="t">In mony a leesome theme,</p>
<p class="t0">An’ gather’d by his artless lays</p>
<p class="t">A never-dying name.</p>
<p class="t0">While heather blooms on Scotia’s hills,</p>
<p class="t">An’ burnies join the sea,</p>
<p class="t0">His aft-applauded “Nichts wi’ Burns”</p>
<p class="t">Will ne’er forgotten be.</p>
</div>
<div class="verse">
<p class="t0">Ye gentle maids! a tribute pay</p>
<p class="t">Frae ’mang your Western bowers,</p>
<p class="t0">An’ strew the minstrel’s lowly grave</p>
<p class="t">Wi’ summer’s balmy flowers!</p>
<p class="t0">Then rest thee, minstrel! Tho’ thy harp</p>
<p class="t">Can noo nae mair be found,</p>
<p class="t0">The lovers o’ auld Scotia’s sangs</p>
<p class="t">Can ne’er forget its sound!</p>
</div>
<p>Gourdon Schoolhouse.
<span class="lr">W. J.</span></p>
<h2 id="c5">Footnotes</h2>
<div class="fnblock"><div class="fndef"><a class="fn" id="fn_1" href="#fr_1">[1]</a>Bell’s
house, when we leave the road, is midway between Nashville
and Louisville, and 90 miles from each city.
</div><div class="fndef"><a class="fn" id="fn_2" href="#fr_2">[2]</a>In St Louis
I saw part of a panorama of the Upper Mississippi,
which a French artist named Pomerade has been engaged on for
some years, and which he has nearly finished. It is beautifully
painted, and must prove very interesting, for he has introduced
Indian scenes, customs, &c., and has also machinery which sets
the steam-boats agoing, &c. He intends to have four views from
the Mammoth Cave as drop-scenes; if he succeeds in giving anything
like a faithful representation of them, it will add much to the <i>eclat</i>
of his picture.
</div>
</div>
<h2 id="c6">Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
<ul><li>Created an original cover image, for free unrestricted use with this eBook.</li>
<li>Silently corrected a few typos.</li>
<li>In the text versions, included italicized text in _underscores_.</li></ul>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51187 ***</div>
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