A comic incident cheered my fatigued comrades when we regained the open air. In the morning I had brought my family up from Bakewell Station for a day in the country, a work of supererogation that now placed me in a curious predicament. The waggonette had gone off to pick them up for the early train, and, to my distress, I found the driver had relieved us of all the luggage, including the rücksack which held my clothes, not to mention boots, pipe, and railway ticket. The alternative stared me in the face of proceeding to town in slimy overalls or in attire of dangerous slightness. But the broad-shouldered friend came to the rescue with his cave jacket, a garment that fell about me like a baggy greatcoat, hiding the worst deformities, and with battered hobnailers at one extremity, and a cap that had more stiff clay than cloth in it at the other, I made the best of my way home under the cover of darkness. A VISIT TO MITCHELSTOWN CAVE Mitchelstown Cave, the largest ever discovered in the British Isles, is not situated at the town of that name, in county Cork, but 10 miles away, in Tipperary, on the road to Cahir. Its entrance is in a small Limestone hill in the broad vale of the Blackwater, midway between the Knockmealdown Mountains and the Sandstone ridges and tables of the Galtees. The cave was laid open in the course of quarrying operations in 1833, from which time to the present the work of exploration has gone on progressively, if at long intervals, and may, perhaps, continue until the extent of the passages known is considerably enlarged. It seems now to be entirely forgotten that the spot has been famous from time immemorial for a wonderful stalactite cavern. In October 1777, Arthur Young was taken into a cave, known as Skeheenarinky, after the townland, but the old Irish name of which was Oonakareaglisha. "The opening," he says, "is a cleft of rock in a Limestone hill, so narrow as to be difficult to get into it. I descended by a ladder of about twenty steps, and then found myself in a vault of 100 feet long and 50 or 60 high: a small hole, on the left, leads from this a winding course of, I believe, not less than half an Irish mile." He goes on to describe the beautiful scenery of the cave, which, he says, is much superior to the Peak Cavern in Derbyshire, "and Lord Kingsborough, who has viewed the Grot d'Aucel in Burgundy, says that it is not to be compared with it."[5] The odd thing is that the very existence of this cavern seems to have been forgotten since the discovery of its much finer neighbour. Yet the trees and brushwood guarding its mouth are in full view of the well-frequented entrance to the other cave; and Dr. Lyster Jameson, who was with Monsieur Martel on his visit in 1895, told me some years ago that an opening had been pointed out to him into a lower series of caves, which I have little hesitation in identifying with Young's cavern and the cave mouth I allude to.