run abreast for a quarter of a mile
to Bunyan's Way, a branch of the avenue, leading on to the river. At
this point the avenue changes its features of beauty and regularity,
for those of wild grandeur and sublimity, which it preserves to the
end. The way, no longer smooth and level, is frequently interrupted
and turned aside by huge rocks, which lie tumbled around, in all
imaginable disorder. The roof now becomes very lofty and imposingly
magnificent; its long, pointed or lancet arches, forcibly reminding
you of the rich and gorgeous ceilings of the old Gothic Cathedrals, at
the same time solemnly impressing you with the conviction that this is
a "building not made with hands." No one, not dead to all the more
refined sensibilities of our nature, but must exclaim, in beholding
the sublime scenes which here present themselves, this is not the work
of man! No one can be here without being reminded of the all pervading
presence of the great "Father of all."

"What, but God, pervades, adjusts and agitates the whole!"

Not far from the point at which the avenue assumes the rugged
features, which now characterize it, we separated from our guide, he
continuing his straight-forward course, and we descending gradually a
few feet and entering a tunnel of fifteen feet wide on our left, the
ceiling twelve or fourteen feet high, perfectly arched and beautifully
covered with white incrustations, very soon reached the Great
Crossings. Here the guide jumped down some six or eight feet from the
avenue which we had left, into the tunnel where we were standing, and
crossing it, climbed up into the avenue, which he pursued for a short
distance or until it united with the tunnel, where he again joined us.
In separating from, then crossing, and again uniting with the avenue,
it describes with it something like the figure 8. The name, Great
Crossings, is not unapt. It was however, not given, as our intelligent
guide veritably assured us, in honor of the Great Crossings where the
man lives who killed Tecumseh, but because two great caves cross here;
and moreover said he, "the valiant Colonel ought to change the name of
his place, as no two places in a State should bear the same name, and
this being the _great_ place ought to have the preference."

Not very far from this point, we ascended a hill on our left, and
walking a short distance over our shoe-tops in dry nitrous earth, in a
direction somewhat at a right angle with the avenue bel