thom. If, instead of
descending the ladder, you pass straight alongside the chasm, you arrive
at the Bottomless Pit, beyond which no one ever ventured to proceed till
1838. To this fact we probably owe the meagre account given by Lieber,
in the Encyclopaedia Americana. He says, "This cave is more remarkable
for extent, than the variety or beauty of its productions; having none
of the beautiful stalactites found in many other caves." For a long
period this pit was considered bottomless, because, when stones were
thrown into it, they reverberated and reverberated along the sides, till
lost to the ear, but seemed to find no resting place. It has since been
sounded, and found to be one hundred and forty feet deep, with a soft
muddy bottom, which returns no noise when a stone strikes upon it. In
1838, the adventurous Stephen threw a ladder across the chasm, and
passed over. There is now a narrow bridge of two planks, with a little
railing on each side; but as it is impossible to sustain it by piers,
travellers must pass over in the centre, one by one, and not touch the
railing, lest they disturb the balance, and overturn the bridge.

This walk brings you into Pensico Avenue. Hitherto, the path has been
rugged, wild, and rough, interrupted by steep acclivities, rocks, and
big stones; but this avenue has a smooth and level floor, as if the sand
had been spread out by gently flowing waters. Through this, descending
more and more, you come to a deep arch, by which you enter the Winding
Way; a strangely irregular and zig-zag path, so narrow that a very stout
man could not squeeze through. In some places, the rocks at the sides
are on a line with your shoulders, then piled high over your head; and
then again you rise above, and overlook them all, and see them heaped
behind you, like the mighty waves of the Red Sea, parted for the
Israelites to pass through. This toilsome path was evidently made by a
rushing, winding torrent. Toward the close, the water not having force
enough to make a smooth bed, has bored a tunnel. This is so low and
narrow, that the traveller is obliged to stoop and squeeze himself
through. Suddenly he passes into a vast hall, called the Great Relief;
and this leads into the River Hall, at the side of which you have a
glimpse of a small cave, called the Smoke House, because it is hung with
rocks perfectly in the shape of hams. The River Hall descends like the
slope of a mountain. The ceiling stretches away--away