At the trifling expense
of a plank floor, seats and lamps, a ball-room might be had, if not
more splendid, at all events more grand and magnificent than any other
on earth. The effect of music here would be truly inspiring; but the
awful solemnity of the place may, in the opinion of many, prevent its
being used as a temple of Terpsichore. Extremes, we are told, often
meet. The same objection has been urged against the Cave's being used
for religious services. "No clergyman," remarked a distinguished
divine, "be he ever so eloquent could concentrate the attention of his
congregation in such a place. The God of nature speaks too loud here
for _man to be heard_."
Leaving these points to be settled as they may, we will proceed
onwards; the road now is broad and fine, and in many places dusty.
Next in order is Willie's Spring, a beautifully fluted niche in the
left hand wall, caused by the continual attrition of water trickling
down into a basin below. This spring derives its name from that of a
young gentleman, the son of a highly respectable clergyman of
Cincinnati, who, in the spirit of romance, assumed the name of
Wandering Willie, and taking with him his violin, marched on foot to
the Cave. Wishing no better place in which to pass the night, he
selected this spot, requesting the guide to call for him in the
morning.
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