There is one of which the depth is said to be unknown. There is a
tradition in the country, that an adventurous fiddler once resolved to
explore it; that he entered, and never returned; but that the
subterranean sound of a fiddle was heard at a farm-house seven miles
inland. It is, therefore, concluded that he lost his way in the
labyrinth of caverns, supposed to exist under the rocky soil of this
part of the country.

_Mr Jenkison._
A supposition that must always remain in force, unless a second
fiddler, equally adventurous and more successful, should return with
an accurate report of the true state of the fact.

_Mr Foster._
What think you of the little colony we have just been inspecting; a
city, as it were, in its cradle?

_Mr Escot._
With all the weakness of infancy, and all the vices of maturer age. I
confess, the sight of those manufactories, which have suddenly sprung
up, like fungous excrescences, in the bosom of these wild and desolate
scenes, impressed me with as much horror and amazement as the sudden
appearance of the stocking manufactory struck into the mind of
Rousseau, when, in a lonely valley of the Alps, he had just
congratulated himself on finding a spot where man had never been.

_Mr Foster._
The manufacturing system is not yet purified from some evils which
necessarily attend it, but which I conceive are greatly overbalanced
by their concomitant advantages. Contemplate the vast sum of human