Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1871-11-24

waters, now reaching the very summit
of the arch, and obliterating the glim
mer of light that yet stole in; then, as
if to mock us, receding till the faint
ray was once more visible. Again and
again this happened but at last we
were enveloped in pitchy darkness
The wall of water had barred us in
and, unless God helped us. we had
taken our last look at the bright world
without
- 1t was hard to die so young; and even
now | think it no shame to our man.
hood that choking sobs and earnest
cries for mercy thronged to our lips, as
we struggled to hold on against the
volume of water striving always to dash
us onward into the deeper recesses ot
the chasm.
In our haste and alarm we had for
| gotten that small anchor was lying at
the bottom Of the boat. but now, as a
| larger wave that we had hitherto con-
tended with came rushing on US, Ire
lrwny gasped out,
"The anchor over with it or we are
lost can hold on no longer"
In an instant had it over the side
On came the believing wave; the boat
was lifted upon it; our hands were
| forced to relinquish their grasp of the
| Jagged stones to which we had been
| clinging, and like an arrow we were
driven forward but the anchor held,
and for a time we felt we were saved
Up to this moment very few words
had been uttered, for the transition had
been too great from the mirth and sun
chIyn f1 4ho II VII o~oI 10
ror within, to permit of speech. We all
knew by what frall tenure we held
our lives, and silently huddled together,
listening to the wash of the pillows as
they came whirling and rumbling past
our boat, to dash with a conclusion
like thunder, against some recess of
the cavern which seemed to be far, far
away.
Strange fears stole over us as we
prayed incoherently that the anchor
might hold and the wind drop, or clung
instinctively to the sides of our vessel,
when the eddying waters hurled by,
leaving behind them transient calm,
SO profound that we could hear our own
deep breathing and the bitter grief of
our happy little coxswain. Were not
his thoughts with the widowed mother
who, il she lost him, lost her all?
| Presently the awful stiffness was bro.
ken by rock crumbling from the roof
and falling with deafening crash not
many feet from where we lay, the
sound reverberating along the cavern
Gus vaults until it died away in the dis
tance.
After while we fancied we heard the
moaning of the wind outside our prison.
Had it increased? And if the result
should be as terrible as we foreboded,
would our fate ever be known to these
who would mourn for usl Would any
vestige of the yawl or her unfortunate
crew be washed out to sea to tell the
sad tale?
At last-and what an eternity it
seemed-we could discern faint glim-
mer of light. A few seconds and it had
vanished. Then like a bright star
dawning upon us, it steadily increased,
and we knew that the tide was falling.
Breathlessly we watched the bright har
binger of hope till, with eyes that brim-
med over, and voices tremulous with
thankful joy, we told each other that
we might now make an effort to de-
part.
1t was not until after many narrow
escapes from being dashed on the part
ly sunken rocks that we succeed ed in
reaching the outer world. What we
then thought, or how we acted, may be
better imagined than described and I
suppose | need scarcely say that we
have never since then explored a
Cornish cavern when the tide was run