River Hall. It was evident from the appearance of the flood here, that
it had been recently overflown.

[Illustration: RIVER SCENE.
On Stone by T. Campbell
Bauer & Teschemacher's Lith.]

"The cave, or the River Hall," remarks a fair and distinguished
authoress, whose description of the river scenery is so graphic, that
I cannot do better than transcribe it throughout: "The River Hall
descends like the slope of a mountain; the ceiling stretches
away--away before you, vast and grand as the firmament at midnight."
Going on, and gradually ascending and keeping close to the right hand
wall, you observe on your left "a steep precipice, over which you can
look down by the aid of blazing missiles, upon a broad black sheet of
water, eighty feet below, called the Dead Sea. This is an awfully
impressive place; the sights and sounds of which, do not easily pass
from memory. He who has seen it, will have it vividly brought before
him, by Alfieri's description of Filippo, 'only a transient word or
act gives us a short and dubious glimmer, that reveals to us the
abysses of his being--dark, lurid and terrific, as the throat of the
infernal pool.' Descending from the eminence, by a ladder of about
twenty feet, we find ourselves among piles of gigantic rocks, and one
of the most picturesque sights in the world, is to see a file of men
and women passing along those wild and scraggy paths, moving
slowly--slowly, that their lamps may have time to illuminate their
sky-like ceiling and gigantic walls--disappearing behind high
cliffs--sinking into ravines--their lights shining upwards through
fissures in the rocks--then suddenly emerging from some abrupt angle,
standing in the bright gleam of their lamps, relieved by the towering