He forthwith struck a match and lighted one of his candle ends, which he fixed on the ledge of the rock by holding it inverted for a few minutes, then on the hot drippings placing the taper erect. He had shielded it with his hand during this process, and on perceiving no draught whatever, looked up in amazement at the strange surroundings--a rugged stone tunnel stretching far along into the dense blackness of the distance, fifteen feet in height, perhaps, and of varying width,--about ten feet where they stood; evidently this was an offshoot of some extensive subterranean system, not uncommon in the cavernous limestone country, therefore exciting scant interest, and perhaps never heretofore explored, even in part, save by Julius and the Devrett boys when it might be made a factor in Christmas fun. "De Lawd-a-massy," exclaimed Uncle Ephraim, looking about in awe and by no means prepossessed in favor of the aspect of the place. "Is disher de bestibule ob hell?" But the attention of Julius was concentrated on the portmanteau, a very genteel-looking receptacle, which when open disclosed the garments that Uncle Ephraim considered so comical. They were, indeed, a contrast with his standard of proper attire for a "gemman of quality"--this being the judge's fine black broadcloth, with a black satin waistcoat and stock, and with linen laid in plaits, the collar standing in two sharp points. But for the first time that day Julius had a sudden hope of deliverance. No kaftan, kimono, nor burnoose as he had feared, but he was turning in his hands a soft, rough-surfaced tweed of a dark fawn color, with tiny checks of the style called invisible, the coat bound with a silk braid on which Uncle Ephraim laid a finger of doubt and inquiry, looking drearily up into the young man's face. For this was a novel finish indeed in those days. "These are of English make," said the discerning Julius, beginning to understand that the foreign "heathen land" to which old Ephraim had referred was England. Julius now remembered that his cousin's brother-in-law, James Wrayburn, had been sojourning there at the time of his death. The garments had lain in the garret for more than a year, but in those days so slow was the transmission of styles across the Atlantic that the cut was by no means antiquated, indeed was in accord with the fashion that was familiar on the main street of the town. There was a hat of soft felt of a deep brown, and the old servant had added from the trunk two or three white Marseilles waistcoats and some neckties and linen. "Dee got on good new boots," he observed, glancing down at the young man's feet. "Ought to be--cost me six hundred dollars!" said Julius. "Lo!--my Heabenly Friend!" exclaimed Uncle Ephraim, falling back aghast, unaccustomed to the inflations of the currency of the Confederacy.