It is not my intention to give a general description of it. Many a graphic account of the great cave has been furnished by tourists; and yet, as in the case of Niagara Falls, no one has ever given an adequate description, and no one can form any proper conception of it without having seen it. However, I’ll mention a point or two that may prove interesting or amusing to the “gentle reader.” Once within the cave,—which we entered without striking our “brows” on the overhanging rocks at the entrance, where a little cascade sings away its happy life—the guide lighted the three lamps he carried. It is customary to give one to each visitor, on entering the cave; but as I could not have carried one conveniently, the guide, having given one to my Confederate friend, carried two himself. We then walked on, following a straight and narrow passage for a quarter of a mile; by which time we began to feel quite independent of the sun. It would be natural to suppose that dampness would predominate in this cave, but such is not the case. On the contrary, quite the opposite state of things prevails. Except near the subterranean streams, the cave, both over-head and under-foot, is as dry as one could wish the paper on which he writes—and you know that isn’t sloppy. The temperature of the atmosphere within the cave, at all seasons of the year, is about fifty-nine degrees; and chemists have decided that the air is purer there than without—that it contains a far less proportion of carbonic acid gas. The first point to which the guide respectfully directed our attention—for he was very polite—was a place called the “Rotunda,” situated at the first turn of the passage—or rather at the junction of this passage with another running off toward the left, nearly at a right angle. The “ceiling” of this “Rotunda”—so-called from its resemblance to the interior of a dome—is about one hundred feet high, and eighty feet in diameter. Over the floor are still strewn some of the wooden pipes, used by the miners in 1812, at which time saltpeter was taken from the cave in large quantities. Turning to the left, we soon passed a small stone hut, and, somewhat surprised, we asked the guide what it meant to see a building thus far under ground, half-a-mile from the light of the sun. “That,” said he, “and another similar one, which we shall soon pass, were built ten or fifteen years ago, for residences for consumptive patients, who, it was thought, would be benefited by the mild and regular temperature of the air.” “And is it possible that any came in here to live, and thus shut themselves up from the light of day,” I asked. “Yes,” returned the guide, “a number tried the experiment.” “And with what result?” asked my companion.