ISSo 



GLKANlNf^S IN BEE CUJ/rURE, 



behind the Giant's Coffin. Well, I tell you 

 it is a hole. It is low and narrow. We had 

 to almost get down and squeeze in ; and if I \ 

 were exploring it myself 1 should say, ' 

 •'Why. this surely can not be any thing; 

 let us go back." Presently, however, when 

 most of us began to get red in the face and 

 feel cross, tlie ceiling began gradually to 

 "let up ■■ sowewhat. Finally, we drew a 

 breath of relief wlien we could stand up and 

 throw back our shoulders. Pretty soon we 

 came to large rooms, mitil it was fully as 

 large as the main ^lammoth Cave. It seems 

 funny that every little hole one sees, if he 

 can manage to scjueeze into should soon be- ' 

 gin to open out and enlarge, and finally open ' 

 up into large domes and caverns, and great 

 beauties. 



Here we come to a lot of monuments. 

 They are made of loose stones put up pyra- 

 mid fashion. Some of them were stuck full 

 of cards and papers, and they 

 bristle like feathers from a sit- 

 ting hen when you want to count 

 her eggs, for instance, to see 

 if they are all there. We look- 

 ed to the guide for an explan- 

 ation. *' AVhy, boys, you see 

 the managers of the cave have 

 shut down on people Avriting 

 their names all over; but to 

 satisfy the craving for leaving 

 a record of your visit, they al- 

 low visitors to stick their cards 

 in these monuments. There is 

 a monument for each State, as 

 you see. There is Ohio. Voii, 

 iny friend, are to pick up a stone 

 and put it tlieie, with the mon- 

 ument of your State ; and you 

 Pennsylvania man can i)ut one 

 there." We did as we were or- 

 dered, and the guide told us 

 that these monuments were 

 made by each visitor placing a 

 stone ; so you see I helped to 

 build a monument to the mem- 

 ory of the State of Ohio. 



Halloo I here is a village. 

 Nine stone houses in regular 

 order, built of hewn stone, and 

 all perfect in every respect, ex- 

 cept that they are rooUess. We 

 stop and look at the guide iM(iuiringly; and 

 while he tells us that a lot of poor coiisump- 

 tive brothers and sisters lived here live 

 months in these stone houses, without once I 

 seeing the light of day, we stand around I 

 him with open mouth's, in astonishment, j 

 They were wealthy peoi)le from ("iucinnati; 

 and, like consuiuplives when pretty near 

 their last days, they were continually catch- 

 ing colds; and before they could "recover 

 from one they would catch another, and ' 

 somebody suggested that, as the tempera- 

 ture here is even and regular, and as there , 

 are no drafts of cold air. they might possibly 

 extend their period of life a little longer, 

 even if recovery were impossible. The ex- 

 hilarating air, too. that enabled us to walK 

 so many miles without thinking of fatigue 

 (see p. 284, April lo), it was thought, might 

 be a benefit to these poor sufferers. 



'•Well, how did it turn out ? "" we asked. 



"Well," said our guide, and we thought a 



little sadly, "they did not get any better, 

 and the project of a sanitarium in Mammoth 

 Cave was given up." 



One of the poor sufferers died in the cave ; 

 and his friends thought he died sooner than 

 he would have done "had he been outdoors. 

 They suffered for want of sunshine, just as 

 one might have supposed they would, and 

 just as the plants suffered in the little 

 gardens adjoining these stone houses, where 

 they tried to have a garden. If somebody 

 could let the sunshine down through by 

 means of some enormous sashes (like the 

 crystal palace for instance), and then have the 

 air of Mammoth Cave, with the other appur- 

 tenances, it seems to me the project might 

 be a success after all. If it would not cure 

 consumptives, may be it would help us to 

 winter bees, and that is the point that is 

 dear to our hearts, many of us, just now. 



We now enter one of the most beautiful 



features of Mannuoth Cavu. It is what is 

 called the Starry Chamber. The walls widen 

 out and rise upiii precipitous cliffs, so high 

 that the ceiling is lost in darkness. A bench 

 stands against one of these abrupt clilTs, and 

 the guide remarks that perhaps we would 

 like to sit down and take a little rest. Then 

 he extends his hand for our lanterns, and we 

 look at him a little curiously as we hand 

 them over. Pinaliy he has the whole eleven 

 dangling in his two hands, and down he goes 

 amid the loose rocks into a low remote corner 

 of the cavern. Pretty soon he is lost to view, 

 and all at once a sort of awe begins to steal 

 over us as the dense darkness begins to pen- 

 etrate our very bones. Dark? Why. it is 

 literally the blackness of darkness. ()ne be- 

 gins to feel a little queer as time passes : ami 

 as Matt does not come back, some murmurs 

 begin to arise. The friend before menticmed 

 utters an oath ; but it strikes me again, that, 

 of all places in this world, this is the wrong 



