look, yet silently invite the beholder to the dreamy luxury of an Oriental siesta. This luxury, however, we must endeavor to forego, because there yet remains a great deal to be seen, and the guides, who are all day long breathing this cavernous atmosphere, and are constantly being taught how much has been successfully accomplished by the restless and persevering labor of ages, will not fail to remind us that to them also, in this dark world of subterranean speculation, "time is money." So we take another lingering look at the wonders of the "Devil's Gorge," and, with a parting sigh for the damask sofa, we again follow the guide, and plunge still deeper into the cavern in search of other wonders. After continuing along the avenue for a short distance we come to a contracted and rugged passage, where we have to stoop low to avoid a savage-looking boar's head, with keen and desperate tusks, that menace us from the low roof, and immediately beyond we suddenly find ourselves in one of the most beautiful chambers of the cave. It is called the "Chamber of the Benediction," because it has been rendered historical that here a certain Catholic bishop, who had come to visit the cave, was so enchanted with the beauties he beheld, that, in the exuberance of his pious admiration for the wonders of the created world, he blessed and consecrated the Cave of Bellamar. This splendid hall is nearly forty feet from the floor to the roof; it is somewhat more than that in length, and has a breadth varying from twenty to twenty-five feet. The extreme beauty of its crystallizations, with their spotless whiteness and brilliancy, its graceful columns, and the smooth and even floor, all render it a favorite spot with visitors. On the right, as we enter, there is a running spring which overflows into a shallow basin, whose pure waters are seen to glisten among numberless stalagmites. This shallow basin is in a low recess under a massive frieze-work, highly ornamented, and the receding portions of which are seen beautifully reflected on the tranquil surface. Upon approaching the spring we stoop and look into the recess, and perceive that there is at the back of it a dark opening, through which comes the streamlet like a silver thread. That dark aperture is the mouth of an extensive passage, which has been explored for the distance of nearly a mile by Mr. Parga and two others. When at that distance from the mouth a jet of water from the roof extinguished their only remaining taper. They attempted to light some matches with which they had provided themselves, but these had been rendered useless by the dampness, and one after another failed until only one was left. This was their last hope. They felt it would be impossible, in the dark, to retrace their steps through the labyrinth of narrow and tortuous passages, and the dangerous places they had passed. They groped about, feeling with their hands for a dry spot on the surface of the rocks. The last match was finally tried; it flickered for an instant, and went out! The situation Weary of the explorers was now very critical. as they were-for they had been wandering all day through those intricate passages-they were now compelled to creep on their hands and knees, the sharp stalagmites tearing their clothing and lacerating their limbs. At mo ments they would sit down to rest themselves, exhausted and despairing, in this horrible darkness. It was midnight, and they seemed to be no nearer to the mouth of the passage than they had been in the afternoon, when their light was extinguished. A frightful death was staring them in. the face. Hour after hour passed away, and as they groped about those dark passages, which brought back to their ears only the useless echoes of their own voices, the perils of their situation became every moment more and more apparent, and its terrors increased as hope grew less. At last, toward morning, one of them thought he heard the echoes of other voices. They listened with breathless anxiety; a calmness and silence as profound as that of the grave seemed to mock their hopes. darts forth a thousand brilliant coruscations in blended rays of azure, gold, and crimson. They are fairy lanterns, each lit with the blaze of a burning diamond. Among these stalactites there is one deserving of special notice. We reach it by passing through a narrow and irregular passage called the "London Tunnel." This stalactite is an exquisite specimen of sub Suddenly there came, faint and distant, the reverberation of a voice. They replied, and it answered them again. They pushed on toward this voice, groping in the darkness. The two voices sought each other. Soon a distant glimmer, like that of a faint star, shone in the dis-terranean workmanship. It has been named tance. It came nearer and nearer. The wife of Mr. Parga, alarmed at his long absence, had persuaded some friends to go into the cave in search of him. They were in this way rescued from a fearful doom. This basin, with its crystal waters and its cool atmosphere, has a delightful effect upon the mind of the visitor. But the guide's narrative is not calculated to produce an equally agreeable result. We are never entirely at our ease when underground. The close, hot air of these caves suffocates us; the silent darkness ahead is horrible; the brain reels; there is at moments an irrepressible longing for the upper air; the voices of our companions sound weird and unnatural, and the red glare of the tapers has something demoniacal in it. We are startled at every slight noise behind us; a sort of vague terror haunts us lest the lights may go out, or may not last until we regain the entrance; or the ponderous dome give way, and, blocking up the narrow aperture which is our only means of exit, may consign us to the frightful doom of being buried alive in this natural sepulchre ! Near the spring is a beautiful piece of crystallization called the "Mantle of the Virgin." The crystals which adorn it are of extraordinary size and brilliancy. It looks like a mantle of white satin, embroidered with silver thread, and ornamented with diamonds and pearls. The vaulted roof of this beautiful chamber is hung, in some parts, with innumerable stalactites of all shapes and sizes, the most of them presenting the appearance of alabaster lamps hung from the ceiling. As the guide waves his torch over his head, each one of these lamps "Don Cosme's Lamp," from the fact that a Havanese gentleman of that name offered to pay a thousand dollars for it, provided he was allowed to carry it home with him entire. It is a yard and a half in length, quite broad at the top where it is joined to the roof, and terminates below in a keen point. It is a perfect specimen of its kind, and is covered with brilliant crystallizations, and fancifully decorated with the most delicate filigree work, tinted with violet and pale gold. The myriads of minute branching stalagmites on its surface are twisted and woven about each other in the most capricious and complex shapes. Indeed this portion of the cave can not be surpassed for the beauty and quantity of its crystallizations. The roof and walls are literally incrusted with them. It will, perhaps, be our good fortune to notice a curious and beautiful representation of a rainbow on one part of the wall, in which, on a dark ground, the colors of the solar spectrum are accurately displayed in a semicircular form. As a torch is moved back and forth before it the effect is beautiful beyond description. Here, too, the ceiling is, in many parts, of a rare and delicate salmon-color, studded with myriads of brilliants; and graceful colonnades of stalactites, solid to the floor, fall into varied perspective as you move about the chamber, giving to the whole the appearance of some enchanting Oriental retreat. We pass out of the "Blessed Chamber" and its lovely grottoes and quaint recesses with no little regret, and follow the guide along the last portion of the main corridor into what is known as the "Avenue of the Lake." On our way we pass many beautiful and interesting objects, but we have seen so much, and our eyes so ache with prying and staring, that we stop only for an instant to contemplate the beauties of a dazzling waterfall called the "Diamond Cascade"-a glowing mass of crystallization, which looks for all the world as though some princely gnome, standing in a niche which is near the roof, had emptied down a casket of diamonds, which, in a glittering shower, had remained suspended in the air. But we hasten on to obtain a view of the greatest wonder of the cave-the "Lake of the Dahlias," which is at the termination of the avenue. We are now at the bottom or | lake on which the sun has never shone, and whose smooth and silver surface the light wings of the breeze have never rippled, nor the rage of the tempest ever maddened into foam. Retracing our steps we now return to the fountain, where the avenue of that name is intersected by the passage which, in conjunction with it, forms the V. This passage is called the "Avenue of Hatuey"-in memory of the Indian chieftain whose martyrdom is recorded in the early annals of Cuban history. After proceeding along this passage for a short distance we come to a spacious vault called the "Cupola of St. Peter's," from the symmetrical foot of the Y, and somewhat less than a mile from the pavilion. In order to reach the lake it is necessary to climb up to an aperture near the roof, above the smooth surface of a rock coated with a cascade of crystals, which looks as if it might be an overflow of the waters of the pool. As we approach this end of the gallery we observe a marked change in the temperature of the air, which gently fans our temples with a delicious coolness. This is a breeze from the lake-a beautiful sheet of water, one hundred and eighty feet long, thirty feet broad, and eighteen feet deep. It is pure and transparent, and its bed or bottom is paved with the most remarkable crystalliza-proportions and great elevation of its dome. tions, most of them of the shape of flowers resembling dahlias. These dahlias are formed by triangular, concave crystals, starting from a common centre, in layers one above the other, precisely as the petals of dahlias are arranged. They vary from three to five inches in diameter. Their greatest beauty consists in the exquisite manner in which they are tinted with veins of violet and blue and delicate yellow and pale crimson. These colors are probably due to the presence of mineral salts which filter down with the water from the overlying strata. The dahlias are all slightly flattened, as if by the pressure of the fluid above them. Directly under this dome stands isolated a tall, keen stalagmite called the "Lance of Hatuey." As we continue to explore this passage our attention is constantly directed to the great variety of rare fossils embedded in the walls and roof. The latter consists here of a stratum of yellowish conglomerate. Among other remains are casts of oyster shells, some of which measure six inches in length, with a proportionate width. There are also casts of echini or sea- urchins, some of them measuring as much as seven inches in diameter. The existing species of oysters found in the island are seldom more than two inches in length, being Here, then, we have an enchanted lake in generally found adhering in clusters to the which the most fastidious of naiads would not tangled roots of the mangrove-trees along the refuse to dwell. A lake with its surrounding sea-coast, in the same manner as Columbus, in landscape of fantastic, sparry forms and its beds his fourth voyage, said he saw them along the of wondrous flowers, and with its own sky bend- shores of South America. The sea-urchins ing above it full of sparkling constellations-a | found at present on the island are seldom more VOL. XLI.-No. 246.-53 THE CONFESSIONAL. But they will be rendered safe enough to be exhibited, as they are said to contain many interesting and wonderful objects. we have seen enough for one visit; we have spent a whole morning in these realms of subterranean mystery, and as we climb up the stairway to the pavilion and behold again the clear, white light of heaven, and breathe once more the pure untainted air of the outer world, we can not but confess that we feel in the best of spirits-a vein of good-humor with which is pleasantly blended that wholesome excitement we always experience after the contemplation of the marvels of nature, even when our investigation has than three or four inches in diameter. These | been associated with a sense of peril. casts carry us back to a remote geological era. The "Avenue of Hatuey" is rendered very picturesque by the tortuousness of its course and the inequalities of its floor. In some places we descend into deep ravines, to ascend again along erratic zigzag paths; in some parts it is necessary to stoop quite to the ground to be able to creep through the narrower passes. There abound many beautiful incrustations, especially those veins with colors-buff, red, and blue. Some of the colored stalactites are very striking, especially near a beautiful recess called the "Boudoir of the Matanzas Beauties." It is a very beautiful chamber, with arches and pillars tastefully distributed and decorated. A quaint Gothic niche near by also displays the usual wealth of rich ornament and tracery, and fanciful design. It reaches from the floor to the ceiling, but is roofed over at the height of about six feet; a broad, flat stalactite serving as a partition wall and leaving a narrow doorway. In this wall is a small Gothic-shaped opening, or window. We need not be told the name given to this eccentric little nook is the "Confessional." We have now to toil for some distance over the fatiguing irregularities of the narrow path which leads us up a very steep ascent to a terrace which is on a level with the floor of the "Gothic Temple." We have then returned to our starting-point. Most of the other galleries are not as yet opened to visitors; it is hoped that before long PHANTOM DAYS. SWEET-HEART, when the year turns back, And over her summer track Goes trailing in robes of mist, Up to the sun to be kissed- By the chill that is in the air. With the love that I forego! And the winter claims its own. And what is the stalk alone? The spell of a past delight. Of the autumn woods ablaze! the telegraph. There were no evidences of haste nor press of business about the gangway of the boat. What freight there was had been stowed away, and the passengers who were to accompany us dropped in quietly. At the hour appointed the lines were cast loose, and we backed easily out from among the crowd of steamers which lay at the levee. There was a raw wind from the north, and the sun shone cold and cheerless through the gray and white clouds which covered the sky. At the bow of the boat were gathered the negro deck-hands, who were singing a parting song. A most picturesque group they formed, and worthy the graphic pencil of Johnson or Gèrome. The leader, a stalwart negro, stood upon the capstan shouting the solo part of the song, the words of which I could not make out, although I drew very near; but they were answered by his companions in stentorian tones at first, and then, as the refrain of the song fell into the WE were a party of six-three ladies and lower part of the register, the response was three gentlemen. Two of these only were husband and wife, so it can easily be believed we all got on very well together. We were to take our point of departure from the city of St. Louis, not because the would-be capital of all the States is particularly interesting in itself, but because it is easily reached from any where else; and because one may be sure to find here large and comfortable steamboats, which go all the way to New Orleans. Steamboats of the largest size, such as the Thompson Dean, Great Republic, Richmond, and others, do not go above St. Louis, neither do they ascend the Ohio, except for a short distance, because of shoal water and rapids, and therefore they do not invite freights. On a "full river," however, they can pass over all of these, and then these monster craft appear at the levee of Cincinnati. St. Louis is the greatest transfer dépôt on the river. Steamboats bring to this point freights from the Upper Missouri and Mississippi and all the rivers which empty into these largest of the water-courses, and thus there is abundance of business for the great export mart of New Orleans. changed into a sad chant in mournful minor key. Very soon we were fairly out into the river, and, with head down stream, with choking gasps from the steam-pipes, and bulging columns of smoke from the huge lofty smokestacks, and swift revolutions of the large paddle-wheels, we sped away toward our destination. At the risk of telling many of your readers what they will know as well as I, let me give a brief sketch of a Mississippi River steamboat. It is one of the most striking, as well as most original forms of our altogether original American architecture. Whenever our people attempt to build public edifices, such as churches, state-houses, and private dwellings, after their own invention, they are pretty sure to make a frightful botch of it; but American steamboat architecture, which has grown out of the needs of our commerce, is not only original to us in its form of construction, but it is sometimes splendid in appearance. This is a noble craft which bears us safely over the turbid waters of the great river. Her actual carrying capacity is thirty-two hundred tons. She is some two hundred and ninety feet in length, and fifty-six in breadth. From her keel to the roof of the upper cabin she includes forty feet. Above that is the "Texas," as it is called, which is an upper row of cabins, where the officers' quarters are, and upon the top of which is imposed the pilot-house. The main cabin is plainly but well furnished, with large staterooms on either side. Below it is the maindeck, where the big boilers and furnaces and engines are. Below this deck again there is a deep, spacious hold, where a thousand or fifteen hundred tons of freight may be stowed away. The boat we were to take was advertised to This hold is a peculiar feature of our boat. At start at ten o'clock in the morning. An hour least, with my experience, I have never seen before that time we were on board, and had such a space below decks. Perhaps the most settled ourselves in the plain but large and ornamental and most needful parts of this noble comfortable state-room, which had been pre-creature, as we see her from the outside, are viously engaged for us through the medium of the two big black smoke-stacks. These are the To St. Louis, therefore, we repaired in search of the steamboat Thompson Dean, whose reputation for size and safety was so well assured as to gain the confidence of us timid travelers. We had a day to spare before the steamboat went to sea-to river, I had better say-and attempted to see the objects of interest, and made a total failure of it; for of all places under the sun St. Louis is the most uninteresting. There is but little architecture, and less art. There is literally nothing of the past or present to interest a stranger. |