Returning from Serena's Arbor, we passed on our left the mouth of an
avenue more than three miles long, lofty and wide, and at its
termination there is a hall, which in the opinion of the guide is
larger than any other in the Cave. It is as yet without a name.
Equidistant from the commencement and the termination of Cleveland's
Avenue, is a huge rock, nearly circular, flat on the top and three
feet high. This is the "_dining table_." More than one hundred persons
could be seated around this table; on it the guide arranged our
dinner, and we luxuriated on "flesh and fowl" and "choice old sherry."
Never did a set of fellows enjoy dinner more than we did ours. Our
friend B. was perfectly at his ease and happy; and, in the exuberance
of his spirits, proposed the following toast:
"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.
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