whole had been removed. Some of
the finest specimens are still to be seen in the museum at Berne.

Amber, about which all sorts of fabulous stories have passed current, is
found more frequently in the depths of the sea than in those of the
earth. There can be no doubt that it is the product of several
conifers, or cone-bearing trees, overwhelmed by the waves. Although the
gum which exuded from them has remained concealed for ages, until washed
up from the bottom of the ocean, flies and spiders, which must have been
caught when it was in a semi-fluid state, have been found embedded in
it. The insects now appear as perfect as they were thousands of years
ago.

The naturalist, Dr Berndt, has discovered 800 different species of
insects in amber.

The famed cavern in Kentucky is as well worthy of a visit as any
subterranean region. Of late years an hotel has been built near the
entrance, detracting from its once romantic appearance. Visitors first
descend a well-like pit, into which a stream falls, by a flight of
steps, and then passing under a high archway, proceed along a level
road, to what are called the vats, where saltpetre was once
manufactured. Their blazing torches, numerous as they may be, hardly
light up the vast subterranean region. From the large hall they make
their way through a low narrow passage, known as the "Vale of Humility,"
into another hall of enormous extent, the roof so lofty that the torches
scarcely illuminate either the walls or roof. At their feet can be seen
the glitter of water, extending far away into the interior, a bright
stream flowing over a rocky bed into it. Moving on, they in a short
time reach Echo River, on the shore of which a boat is found. When
looking upwards, it appears as if a canopy of black clouds hung over
their heads. On either side can be seen precipitous cliffs, rising
apparently into the sky. Silence and darkness reign around, the smooth
sluggish water alone reflecting the glare of the torches. The visitors
are not disposed to utter a word, until the voice of one of the native
guides suddenly bursts forth into a melancholy chant, which seems as if
echoed by the spirit of his departed brethren. Now the notes rise, now
they fall, as he gives them forth with the full force of his lungs, or
warbles softly, finishing with a melancholy wail, which produces a most
mournful effect. When a pistol is fired off, there comes a succession
of crashing thundering soun