Yet, having advanced thus far, I felt
reluctance to recede without accomplishing my purposes. I reflected
likewise that Clithero had boldly entered this recess, and had certainly
come forth at a different avenue from that at which he entered. At length it occurred to me that, though I could not go forward, yet I
might proceed along the edge of this cavity. This edge would be as safe
a guidance, and would serve as well for a clue by which I might return,
as the wall which it was now necessary to forsake. Intense dark is always the parent of fears. Impending injuries cannot in
this state be descried, nor shunned, nor repelled. I began to feel some
faltering of my courage, and seated myself, for a few minutes, on a
stony mass which arose before me. My situation was new. The caverns I
had hitherto met with in this desert were chiefly formed of low-browed
rocks. They were chambers, more or less spacious, into which twilight
was at least admitted; but here it seemed as if I were surrounded by
barriers that would forever cut off my return to air and to light. Presently I resumed my courage and proceeded. My road appeared now to
ascend. On one side I seemed still upon the verge of a precipice, and on
the other all was empty and waste. I had gone no inconsiderable
distance, and persuaded myself that my career would speedily terminate. In a short time, the space on the left hand was again occupied, and I
cautiously proceeded between the edge of the gulf and a rugged wall. As
the space between them widened I adhered to the wall. I was not insensible that my path became more intricate and more
difficult to retread in proportion as I advanced. I endeavoured to
preserve a vivid conception of the way which I had already passed, and
to keep the images of the left and right-hand wall, and the gulf, in due
succession in my memory. The path, which had hitherto been considerably smooth, now became rugged
and steep. Chilling damps, the secret trepidation which attended me, the
length and difficulties of my way, enhanced by the ceaseless caution and
the numerous expedients which the utter darkness obliged me to employ,
began to overpower my strength. I was frequently compelled to stop and
recruit myself by rest. These respites from toil were of use, but they
could not enable me to prosecute an endless journey, and to return was
scarcely a less arduous task than to proceed. I looked anxiously forward, in the hope of being comforted by some dim
ray, which might assure me that my labours were approaching an end. At
last this propitious token appeared, and I issued forth into a kind of
chamber, one side of which was open to the air and allowed me to catch a
portion of the checkered sky. This spectacle never before excited such
exquisite sensations in my bosom. The air, likewise, breathed into the
cavern, was unspeakably delicious. I now found myself on the projecture of a rock. Above and below, the
hill-side was nearly perpendicular. Opposite, and at the distance of
fifteen or twenty yards, was a similar ascent. At the bottom was a glen,
cold, narrow, and obscure. This projecture, which served as a kind of
vestibule to the cave, was connected with a ledge, by which, though not
without peril and toil, I was conducted to the summit. This summit was higher than any of those which were interposed between
itself and the river. A large part of this chaos of rocks and precipices
was subjected, at one view, to the eye. The fertile lawns and vales
which lay beyond this, the winding course of the river, and the slopes
which rose on its farther side, were parts of this extensive scene. These objects were at any time fitted to inspire rapture. Now my delight
was enhanced by the contrast which this lightsome and serene element
bore to the glooms from which I had lately emerged. My station, also,
was higher, and the limits of my view, consequently, more ample than any
which I had hitherto enjoyed. I advanced to the outer verge of the hill, which I found to overlook a
steep no less inaccessible, and a glen equally profound. I changed
frequently my station in order to diversify the scenery. At length it
became necessary to inquire by what means I should return. I traversed
the edge of the hill, but on every side it was equally steep and always
too lofty to permit me to leap from it. As I kept along the verge, I
perceived that it tended in a circular direction, and brought me back,
at last, to the spot from which I had set out. From this inspection, it
seemed as if return was impossible by any other way than that through
the cavern. I now turned my attention to the interior space. If you imagine a
cylindrical mass, with a cavity dug in the centre, whose edge conforms
to the exterior edge; and if you place in this cavity another cylinder,
higher than that which surrounds it, but so small as to leave between
its sides and those of the cavity a hollow space, you will gain as
distinct an image of this hill as words can convey. The summit of the
inner rock was rugged and covered with trees of unequal growth. To reach
this summit would not render my return easier; but its greater elevation
would extend my view, and perhaps furnish a spot from which the whole
horizon was conspicuous. As I had traversed the outer, I now explored the inner, edge of this
hill. At length I reached a spot where the chasm, separating the two
rocks, was narrower than at any other part. At first view, it seemed as
if it were possible to leap over it, but a nearer examination showed me
that the passage was impracticable. So far as my eye could estimate it,
the breadth was thirty or forty feet. I could scarcely venture to look
beneath. The height was dizzy, and the walls, which approached each
other at top, receded at the bottom, so as to form the resemblance of an
immense hall, lighted from a rift which some convulsion of nature had
made in the roof. Where I stood there ascended a perpetual mist,
occasioned by a torrent that dashed along the rugged pavement below. From these objects I willingly turned my eye upon those before and above
me, on the opposite ascent. A stream, rushing from above, fell into a
cavity, which its own force seemed gradually to have made. The noise and
the motion equally attracted my attention. There was a desolate and
solitary grandeur in the scene, enhanced by the circumstances in which
it was beheld, and by the perils through which I had recently passed,
that had never before been witnessed by me. A sort of sanctity and awe environed it, owing to the consciousness of
absolute and utter loneliness. It was probable that human feet had never
before gained this recess, that human eyes had never been fixed upon
these gushing waters. The aboriginal inhabitants had no motives to lead
them into caves like this and ponder on the verge of such a precipice. Their successors were still less likely to have wandered hither.