214 EVOKING MUSICAL TONES. 



like so many eggs in a sparrow's nest. Around a grain of sand or flint, 

 as a nucleus, accumulates a concretion of lime. Every falling drop moves 

 the grain and prevents its becoming attached or growing into any except 

 a globular form ; thus, under the proper circumstances, marbles or "pearls " 

 are formed. 



But I must cease this attempt at even a suggestion of the possible 

 variety of size and shape, mimicry and quaint device to be met with in 

 this cavern. 



That hard stone should lend itself to so many delicate, graceful, airy 

 shapes and attitudes, rivalling the flexible flower of the organic world, fills 

 the mind with astonishment and bewilders the eye. And when yon have 

 struck the thin and pendent curtains, or the " pipes " of the Organ in the 

 Cathedral — for these are only a group of stalactites which have fallen and 

 partly buried themselves upright in the mud — and have found that each 

 has a rich, deep, musical resonance of varying pitch, so that with a little 

 study you could complete the octaves and thrum a melody whose tones 

 would be more like the breathings of an organ than the metallic quality 

 of piano or xylophone — then your admiration is complete ; the denizens of 

 the cavern not only pose but speak. And how many, many centuries has 

 this museum, or gallery of the " playfulness of God," which the old geolo- 

 gists used to talk of, been patiently awaiting its disclosure ! It is not a 

 place for thousands of lights and the chattering merriment of excur- 

 sionists, with their flirtations and junketing, but for silent and full-hearted 

 delight. 



The impressions which it all makes upon such visitors as are affected 

 at all beyond ohs ! and ahs I if written down, would form very curious 

 reading. Of the hundreds that walk singly through these catacombs, or 

 troop after the brass band of an excursion, few have left any record by 

 tongue or pen ; but the two best remembered by the managers about sum 

 up the whole range of mental experience here. Both, curiously enough, 

 were uttered the same day. The first visitor, after a long tramp, turned 

 to Mr. Corson, and speaking slowly and impressively, said, "I feel as 

 though I must kneel down and render homage to my Creator for this 

 exhibition of infinite power." As the strong magnesium-light lifted the 

 curtain of thick darkness in the Ballroom, and brought out in an instant 

 the far-reaching, coruscant, theatrical sculpture of the lofty dome, the 

 silence was broken by the exclamation of the second spectator : " It 

 knocks thunder out of the Black Crook !" 



The cave has not yet years enough to have gathered about itself much 

 human interest; but before leaving we must not forget to follow down 



