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 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 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, 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 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.