whom you left waiting on the shore, you will see them by the gleam of
their lamps, scattered in picturesque groups, looming out in bold
relief from the dense darkness around them.

Having passed the Styx, (much the smallest of the rivers,) you walk
over a pile of large rocks, and are on the banks of Lethe; and looking
back, you will see a line of men and women descending the high hill
from the cave, which runs _over_ the river Styx. Here are two boats,
and the parties, which have come by the two routes, _down_ the Styx or
_over_ it, uniting, descend the Lethe about a quarter of a mile, the
ceiling for the entire distance being very high--certainly not less
than fifty feet. On landing, you enter a level and lofty hall, called
the Great Walk, which stretches to the banks of the Echo, a distance
of three or four hundred yards. The Echo is truly a river: it is wide
and deep enough, at all times, to float the largest steamer. At the
point of embarkation, the arch is very low, not more than three feet,
in an ordinary stage of water, being left for a boat to pass through.
Passengers, of course, are obliged to double up, and lie upon each
others shoulders, in a most uncomfortable way, but their suffering is
of short duration; in two boat lengths, they emerge to where the vault
of the cave is lofty and wide. The boat in which we embarked was
sufficiently large to carry twelve persons, and our voyage down the
river was one of deep, indeed of most intense interest. The novelty,
the grandeur, the magnificence of every thing around elicited
unbounded admiration and wonder. All sense of danger, (had any been
experienced before,) was lost in the solemn, quiet sublimity of the
scene. The rippling of the water caused by the motion of our boat is
heard afar off, beating under the low arches and in the cavities of
the rocks. The report of a pistol is as that of the heaviest
artillery, and long and afar does the echo resound, like the muttering