82 THE MAMMOTH CAVE. 
fainter, whilst we unconsciously strained our 
ears and stayed our breathing to catch the last 
dying tone. ere, one, without effort of imag- 
ination, might easily conceive that he was really 
passing over the “dark river,’ and within the 
sound of the choristers, that stand upon the 
celestial shores to welcome him onward! 
Lord Byron has beautifully described the echo 
of thunder among the mountains: 
“ Far along, 
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, 
Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud, 
But every mountain now hath found a tongue, 
And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, 
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud !” 
This picture lifts us to the sublime and in- 
spires us with awe; but on Kcho River all is 
calmness and peace, harmony and love,—we for- 
get the world behind us, we forget our pre-exist- 
ence, we realize our ideal of an approach to 
spiritual life. 
Two or three of the gentlemen of our party, 
in a spirit of adventure, made their passage 
through the rugged avenue called Purgatory. 
They described the trip as one of exceeding dif- 
ficulty. After terminating their purgatorial ex- 
perience and arriving at the end of the avenue 
