"Prosperity to the subterranean territory of Cimmeria; large
enough, if not populous enough, for admission into the Union as
an independent State."

We emptied our glasses and gave nine hearty cheers in honor of the
sentiment. A proposition was made to adjourn, but B. was not inclined
to locomotion, and opposed it with great warmth, insisting that it was
too soon to move after such a dinner, and that a state of rest was
absolutely essential to healthy digestion. We had much argument on the
motion to adjourn; when our sagacious guide Stephen, with a meaning
look interposed, saying "we had as well be going, for the river might
take a rise and shut us up here." "What!" exclaimed B. in utter
consternation, and with a start, literally bouncing from his seat,
cried aloud "Let's be off!" at the same time suiting the action to the
word. In a second we were all in motion, and hurrying past beautiful
incrustations, through galleries long and tortuous, down one hill and
up another, (poor B. puffing and blowing, and all the while exclaiming
against the _terrible_ length and ruggedness of the way,) we at last
reached the Echo, which we found to our great relief had _not risen_.
It seems, the guide had used this stratagem for our own advantage, to
break off our banquet, lest it trenched too far upon the night. We
were too happy in having our fears relieved, to fall out with him. On
our homeward bound passage over the rivers, our admiration was rather
increased than diminished. The death-like stillness! the awful
silence! the wild grandeur and sublimity of the scene, tranquilizing
the feeling and disposing to pensive musings and quiet contemplation;
on a sudden a pistol is fired--a tremendous report ensues--its echoes
are heard reverberating from wall to wall, in caves far away, like the
low murmuring sound of distant thunder--the spell of silence and deep
reverie is broken--we become roused and animated, and the mighty