Some of the best photographs which have been taken of the most prominent features of the caves give an idea of their grandeur, but it is only a poor one. They convey no impression of their delicate sheen and dazzling beauty, of the gradations of tint and colour; of the mystic crypts and charming contours. A good photograph may aid those who have seen the caves to fill in details, but even to the most imaginative person who has not had the pleasure of a personal inspection it cannot possibly convey anything like an adequate sense of the thousand and one charms which elude both the photographer and the artist. There is as much difference between the pictorial illustration and the reality as there is between a vacant stare and an eye filled with lovelight and sparkling recognition. And the same remark will apply in greater or lesser degree to verbal description. Words are altogether too poor, and it may be folly to attempt to describe the indescribably beautiful. Among the numerous inscriptions in the cave book, a visitor has given his judgment upon this point very bluntly. He says, without periphrasis or euphemism--"The man who would attempt to describe these caves is a fool." Still, these articles as they appeared in the _Sydney Morning Herald_, have at least brought the caves prominently before the public, and perchance in their present form may be of use to future visitors. On leaving the Cimmerian gloom of the Imperial Cave, and emerging into the clear daylight, the sensation is strange, for after being two or three hours entombed in the heart of the limestone mountains, the darkness seems as natural as night. It is joyous, however, to be back again in the sunshine, and to find that-- "There is a tongue in every leaf, A voice in every rill." CAVES UNEXPLORED. And as you glance once more along the limestone mountain ridge you wonder what hidden beauties yet remain to be revealed. To the north from the Devil's Coach House numerous caves are known to exist, and it is probable that some of them may present features more remarkable than any yet discovered. The creek, which runs quietly along, has on its way some oblique outlets before it sinks into the earth, and recalls, with its surroundings, the pleasure-place of Kubla Khan,-- "Where Alf the sacred river ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to the sunless sea."