The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-04-12

chamber hewn from the solid rock The guild
lit lumber of torches. and, distributing then
among the rocks, called upon the party to mari
the effect. The glare of light upon the whit,
! rocks, reflected by the lofty ceiling, sustained
by huge pillars of masonry, and dashing will
ia shing starts towards the gloomy recesses, anC
| yet gloomer entrances, as if attempting to pen
citrate and drive back the night-had certainl,
very startling effect.
! To one who had explored the Mammoth Cave
in Kentucky, had traversed great fields of night
crossed lakes, and heard the mysterious rush o.
unseen rivers, and watched the long line of rec
lights descending precipices, this view of the
| Catacombs dwindled into utter nsignifcance
! But humanity throws an interest around objects
( nature cannot approach. The do, tfal origin
OF these chambers, the mysterious use assigned
them in ages gone by, the fact that, above, a
| great city rung out its busy life-all served tC
create an awe no mere exhibition of nature
4 however magnificent, could call into existence
Our friend wished to do in the Catacombs as
he often had done during a summers residence
near the Mammoth Cave-watch the effect OF
lights leaving him, so as from good view to
| secure sketch of the strange interior. He
| seated himself without speaking to the party
that went on, not noticing his movement. The
! groupings and lights, as the company left him.
were certainly striking, and worth the arrange
ment. AS they approached the further end OF
the huge chamber he rose to follow, when their
sudden disappearance into one of the low gal
| leries-so many of which cross and re-cross the
| principal passage-alarmed him, and he hasten
ed forward only in the darkness that immedi-
| ately followed, to stumble over pile of stones.
Herose, and, administering forward, ran against
a pillar, and fell back stunned and bleeding.
lie gained his feet, and hesitated His first
thought was, that the party with their guide
would return that way-his next, that missing
HIM, they would retrace their steps in his search
| 10 attempt following them would be madness.
de could only grope his way in blind darkness,
| though unknown and perhaps unexplored pas
sages; while remaining in one place, he at least
would be IN the route best known to the guides
so, seating himself, he counted the weary min
utes, that seemed hours, in that dreary waiting.
lndlstlnct remembrance of stories told him OF
| persons who had disappeared and persisted in
/ these fearful depths, came up to make more
unbearable his terrible position. There was no
sound of life, save from the slow dropping of
water, that seemed the very voice of solitude
| ITSELF
! Hours seemed wearing away. Once he thought
| he heard the sounds of steps, and starting up,
Ae felt his way along-hastentng to meet them
! In his cropping he found, as he thought the gal
along 1t, but meeting one, paused, hesitated,
and then returned. He walked back, as he
thought, toward the chamber from which his
companions had vanished-but, after bhndly
pushing on, he became convinced, from the
distance he traversed that he had missed his
way, and,wa indeed lost 1t required but
moment to realize his position; and the cold
perspiration started from every pore as he did
So What days might elapse before, in this
labyrinth of winding passages, he could be
| found-what suffering, what death, seemed
inevitable There was no utility now in remain
ing stul--he might stumble upon the track of
his friends--might find the stairs by which they
had descended or discover one of the many
outlets yet remaining open. Blindly cropping,
he painfully and slowly continued-now stun
bling over loose stones-now stepping in pools
of water from which he drank-and pausing
every few moments to catch the sound of return
ing steps-yet pausing in vain-for around him
reigned the stiffness of the tomb The tomb.
indeed-for, whatever was the origin of these
huge excavations, they had been used as burial
places-and every few moments, as he felt his
way, his hand resting upon a smooth stone, he
thought to grasp the skull of some unfortunate,
consigned to this fearful resting-place perhaps
centuries before.
Hours-they seemed ages-went by, and he
began to experience that fatigue which comes
from excessive mental excitement-and with it
the detection that said-Despair Seating him
self, his hearing keenly alive to every sound, he
tried to rest-tried to be calm-tried to believe
that in few moments he would catch the sound
of coming footsteps-hear the blessed human
voice once more. But all in vain the brood
ing silence-the cold, earthly air-above all, the
intense darkness, seemed to weigh upon his
very heart, and crush out hope. He again start
ed to his feet, to continue his efforts. Turning
corner suddenly, he came upon dying torch
stuck in the crevice of rock No crew in q
polar sea, searching for lost comrades. ever
came unexpectedly upon traces of their friends,
no lost friends ever stumbled upon evidences of
neighboring humanity, with the same 10Y our
friend seized upon this brand. The company
had evidently passed that way. Would they re-
turn? He seized the torch, and attempted to
blow the fire into life again-he waved it hurried
ly, but the Pickering flame only served for Sec
ond to light the pillars, the jutting rocks and dark
recesses, then plunge all in darkness more op- |
pressive, more profound than before Fate seem
ed against him. yet, from the appearance of the !
torch, these very companions had passed but q |
few moments before. What signified that? They |.
had not encountered him-probaby had not |
missed him-perhaps never would. Why had |
he not shouted? They might have heard him. |
He did so now. Throwing his entire voice into /
one effort, he uttered fearful cry, that rang
out dismally along the passages, and came back |
again in dull echoes; but these last alone repli |
ed be again sat down, resting his head upon |
his hands; he heard the question ringing in .
his ears again and again, with such fearful per
tinacity, Am / to die in this manner?" He
heard again the water dripping in regular beats,
with monotony more terrible than utter silence;
for his imagination saw in it huge clock beat
ing out measure for the life of men, He was
startled to hear the sound of the organ and
church music-deep, heavy, and indistinct-
doubtless vespers at st. Sulpice. And he thought
of the crowds entering that huge ediice, and
listening to the divine music little dreaming of
the suffering and death far down in the black
chambers beneath them. He thought of the
great noisy world above, of the rafting voitures,
laugh of children, hum of men, and gossiping of
women. The companions who had accompa-
MED him had probably returned to their homes,
forgetful of him.
From this his mind wandered to other scenes,
far far away over the wide Atlantic-scenes of
his childhood. He saw once more the Sciota
flowing sunnily away, now widening into . lake
now slunbering apparently under huge banks
covered with forest trees. All how beautiful;
how near and dear all seem to him Or he saw
a home as wildly beautiful, but nearer still, where
the winds whispered among bending trees, and
wild birds sang, and two lovely eyes Looked long.
yet looked in vain for him who should never,
never come again-never be heard of in his {
Ioathsome burial-place. Then the mind took up
the dimly-remembered stories of persons lost in
these vast chambers, and stumbled over by ex. [
ploring parties after the rats and half eaten ,
their bodies. He could not bear the thought
he would make one more desperate effort for {
life. Starting forward. he felt hastily his way !
a hont the huga oh n,her in ,yb;ob L. - :. ! .