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ten his laws for them on tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. The poor child of nature knew not the God of revelation, but the God of the universe he acknowledged in every thing around.

4. He beheld him in the star that sunk in beauty behind his lonely dwelling; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his mid-day throne; in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze; in the lofty pine, that defied a thousand whirlwinds; in the timid warbler, that never left his native grove; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was wet in clouds; in the worm that crawled at his feet; and in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious Source he bent in humble, though blind, adoration. 5. And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you; the latter sprang up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted forever from its face a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant.

6. Here and there a stricken few remain; but how unlike their bold, untamed, untameable progenitors! The Indian of falcon glance and lion bearing, the theme of the touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale, is gone! and his degraded offspring crawl upon the soil where he walked in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man, when the foot of the conqueror is on his neck.

7. As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins in the dust. Their council-fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war-cry is fast dying to the untrodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant mountains, and read their doom in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing them away; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will settle over them forever.

8. Ages hence, the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing city, will ponder on the structure of their dis turbed remains, and wonder to what manner of person they belonged. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of their exterminators. Let these be faithful to their rude virtues as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate as a people.



1. PALE was the hue of his faded cheek,
As it leaned on his cold, damp pillow;
And deep the heave of his troubled breast
As the lift of the ocean billow;

For he thought of the days when his restless foot
Through the pathless forest bounded,
And the festive throng by the hunting fire,
Where the chase-song joyously sounded.

2. He had stood in the deadly ambuscade,

While his warriors were falling around him;
He had stood unmoved at the torturing stake,

Where the foe in his wrath had bound him;
He had mocked at pain in every form,

Had joyed in the post of danger;

But his spirit was crushed by the dungeon's gloom,
And the chain of the ruthless stranger.

I will go to my tent, and lie down in despair;
I will paint me with black, and will sever my hair;
I will sit on the shore, where the hurricane blows,
And reveal to the god of the tempest my woes;
I will weep for a season, on bitterness fed,

For my kindred are gone to the hills of the dead;
But they die not of hunger, or lingering decay;
The steel of the white man hath swept them away.



1. Now, reader, if you will take my hand and use my eyes a little while, I will render you all the aid I can in seeing such wonders as would attract millions of beholders, if they were near the banks of the Hudson or the Thames, instead of the beautiful Kentucky "Green River.”

2. Down the main branch we go, then, for two miles, stopping by the way at "the Doctor's House," to leave our hats, wearing handkerchiefs instead, till we reach the "Steamboat," an immense rock bearing that name. Just behind this is an avenue, with a narrow mouth, which you descend, stooping for some rods, and pursue for two miles or


3. You pass, on your way, by a narrow and slippery path, "the bottomless pit," a frightful chasm one hundred and sixty feet in depth; down which we hurled rocks and stones, that were several seconds in reaching the bottom, with fainter and fainter reverberations from the rocky cliffs below. Near this is "the Dead Sea," at the side of which you descend by a ladder several feet.

4. You leave this branch and ascend again, till you enter the “winding way," which is one hundred and five yards long, and one of the most crooked, zigzag paths that can be conceived. The roof is not more than four and a half feet high, and the path, which at some day seems to have been a water-channel, is about fifteen or twenty inches wide; the sides rising about two and a half feet perpendicularly, but hollowed out sufficiently above that, to admit the free use of the arms. A man of ordinary size can easily thread this labyrinth.

5. Hurrying past a clear, beautiful cascade, descending some thirty feet from the roof, we reach the "river Styx,'


a Doctor's House; a name given to one of the apartments of this cave. b These names are given in consequence of some resemblance they bear to other objects, or in honor of some distinguished person. c So named from the mythological river Styx, of which Char'on was ferryman.

where a skiff is waiting. After crossing the first branch of the river, one hundred and fifty yards, you reach two little streams which are usually crossed by a skiff.

6. Crossing another branch of the river, two hundred yards in length, we came to the "river Jordan," which is three fourths of a mile long, about twenty-five feet broad, at least three hundred feet beneath the surface of the earth, and not far from five miles from the mouth of the cave. The river is of uniform width, and of considerable depth.

7. The roof is of solid rock, forming a regular arch from the water; now rising to a height of twenty or thirty feet, and then falling so low that all must stoop, or have broken heads. It is in this river that the eyeless fish are found, one of which I saw. They are about six inches long, of the form of a catfish, or "bull-head," of New England, but nearly white and translucent. They are without eyes, or even

sockets for them.

8. Safely across the "Jordan," let us hasten on to the points of exciting interest beyond. Passing through "Silliman's Avenue," you enter and climb up the rugged sides of "the Vineyard" by a ladder. Here you are surrounded by surges of rocks," as some one called them, mostly of a spherical form, and completely encrusted with a formation. resembling clusters of grapes of a purple color. For a hundred feet or more around the walls are covered in this way.

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9. A few steps to the right of the vineyard is "the Holy Sepulcher." You climb up the almost perpendicular side of the cave, at considerable risk, to a beautiful gateway of stalactites, just large enough to admit the person; and one of the most unique and enchanting sights greets you that eyes ever beheld. It is a room about thirty-five feet long and fifteen wide, with a low arched roof, which at the end you enter is hung with the most beautiful, coral-like stalactites.

10. In the center of the room is a cavity, perfectly regular, about fifteen feet long by five wide and six deep; having every appearance of a newly formed grave, and all of solid

■ Silliman; a distinguished mineralogist and chemist of Yale College.

rock. It is a perfect gem among all the curiosities of this most curious cave. It is suited to awaken associations of solemn interest to the stricken heart. You feel amply repaid for the difficult scramble up, and the more difficult task of getting down.

11. The most imaginative poets never conceived or painted a place of such exquisite beauty and loveliness as "Cleveland's Cabinet," into which you now pass. Were the wealth of princes bestowed on the most skillful lapidaries, with the view of rivaling the splendors of this single chamber, the attempt would be vain. How, then, can I hope to give you a conception of it? You must see it; and you will then feel that all attempt at description is futile.

12. It is a perfect arch, of about fifty feet span, of an average height of about ten feet in the center; just high enough to be viewed with ease in all its parts. It is encrusted from end to end with the most beautiful formations, in every variety of form. The base of the whole is carbonate of lime, in part of dazzling whiteness, and perfectly smooth, and in other places crystalized so as to glitter like diamonds in the light.

13. Growing from this, in endlessly diversified forms, is a substance resembling selenite, translucent, and imperfectly laminated. Some of the crystals bear a striking resemblance to branches of celery, and are of about the same length; while others, a foot or more in length, have the appearance and color of vanilla cream candy; others are set in the carbonate of lime in the form of a rose; and others still roll out from the base in forms resembling the ornaments on the capital of a Corinthian column.

14. Some of the incrustations are massive and splendid; others are as delicate as a lily, or as fancy work of shell or Think of traversing an arched way like this for a mile and a half, and all the wonders of the tales of youth, “Ara


a Cleveland; a distinguished mineralogist and chemist of Bowdoin College. b Carbonate of lime; limestone. c Sel'e-nite; crystalized sulphate of lime, or plaster of paris. d Corinthian; of the Corinthian order of architecture, more ornamental than the Doric or Ionic.

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