clear stream which runs through the middle of the cave, purifies the air, so that the candles burn as bright as in a room of a house. You will be absent from the light of the sun full two hours; for the length of the cavern is, at least, three quarters of a mile; and you will have much to see and observe. Pay attention to the glorious effect of daylight when, on the return, you approach the mouth of the cave. When you cross the rivulet in the cavern, on a man's back, take care you do not singe his beard, which a lady in our party did, and was thereby in danger of being dropped into the water. On your arrival at the inn at Castleton, a crowd of guides will offer to attend you: the present made to them must be in proportion to the number of persons in the party, and the number of guides, men, women, and singing children engaged. The candles must be paid for besides. If the party be numerous, the procession under some of the lowest shelves of the rocks in the cave is the most ludicrous scene imaginable:—a long string of uncouth figures, with each a candle in one hand, creeping knees and nose together, in the bowels of a mountain; a rivulet on one side, and prodigious masses of solid rocks closely impending over their heads on the
