CHAPTER X.

THE LUCAS CAVE.

The Lucas Cave presents, in grand combination, almost every type of subterranean beauty to be found in the natural limestone caves of Jenolan. It rivals the Imperial Cave, which, however, is commonly regarded as the more attractive, and displays a more dazzling magnificence than that which characterises either the Arch or the Elder Cave. The approach to the Lucas Cave is by a zigzag path from the valley, leaving the high Pinnacle Rock to the left hand. The route is not difficult to agile people, but the road would be greatly improved by the cutting of suitable steps. On gaining the top of the ridge the waterfall is in front. To the left are rocks rising like a vast citadel to a height of 900 feet, at the summit of which are immense cliffs with deep gorges between them. The distance is too great to enable the visitor to discern their geological composition. Some of them seem as though they had been shaped by human hands in the time of the Pharaohs. They remind one of the enormous stones in the Great Pyramid of Egypt, or the massive blocks in the Temple of the Sun at Heliopolis, and the limestone ridges suggest the mighty Nile which runs through similar ranges. These elevated pinnacles and chasms are favourite resorts of marsupials. Wallabies may be seen leaping from rock to rock and peering out from the crevices. As they are not molested they afford visitors ample opportunity to watch their graceful movements. The distance from the top of the ridge to the mouth of the cave is about 100 yards, with a fall of 60 feet. The descent in some places is so steep as to make it difficult in dry seasons. In wet weather it is dangerous, the rocks being covered with slippery clay.

The grand cavern, called the "Lucas Cave," was so named in recognition of valuable services rendered by the Hon. John Lucas, M.L.C., who, from the 8th December 1864, until the dissolution of Parliament on the 15th December 1869, represented in the Legislative Assembly the electorate of Hartley, in which Jenolan is situated. He used his influence to obtain the dedication of the reserve, and make provision for the care and improvement of the caves. It was on his recommendation that the present cave-keeper was appointed to the office of curator. His foresight and activity are suitably commemorated by the association of his name with objects of beauty, the fame of which is now spread throughout the whole civilised world.

The opening to the Lucas Cave is very massive, and has a rather steep fall of about 12 feet from the pathway to the floor of the cavern. The entrance is about 30 feet wide and 25 feet high. The roof of the portico is ornamented by rocks, which in shape and colour appear to be in keeping with the gloomy-looking tunnel beyond. The overhanging masses are honeycombed and convoluted in a remarkable manner, and thin off to points like stalactites. The curved, tapering forms are in groups of various dimensions, drooping in folds like those of loosely-fitting garments. They represent not "formation," but the original rock, out of the crevices of which the softer portions and earthy substances have been extracted by the ordinary operations of Nature. To the left of the archway is a bulky convoluted pillar, rising from the surrounding blocks and boulders to the uppermost part of the portico, and to the right of the archway is a fine piece of stalagmite formation about 10 feet in height. In the centre, immediately behind it, is a large stalactite, and near by an extensive patch which looks like conglomerate of lime and pebbles. On the outer walls are flowering shrubs and creeping plants, including one which bears a strong resemblance to the climbing fig (_Ficus stipulata_), which clothes with pleasant verdure many an ugly wall in and about Sydney. The rock colouring is especially fine and beautifully shaded all the way from the broad daylight to the beginning of the interior blackness, which is somewhat sharply defined by a fringe of stalactites like the vertical bars of a portcullis.

The immediate entrance to this cave is begrimed with dust. A few yards onward there is an iron gate. The guide opens it and carefully locks in his visitors, who light their candles and proceed by a downward path. The descent is about 80 feet, partly by steps cut zigzag fashion, and then on a sloping floor covered with _débris_. There is a marked difference in the temperature, which is many degrees higher than that of the outward air, and several degrees warmer than the interior of the Arch and Nettle Caves. Small flies surprise the excursionists by the suddenness of their appearance, and by the narrow limits of their _habitat_. They live in the zone between daylight and darkness. In the region of perpetual night the only signs of animated nature are clusters of bats. The lighted candles serve to make the surrounding darkness more pronounced.

Where the rays of light pierce through the night to its rocky boundary indistinct, irregular lines can be seen like the ribs of a skeleton, and it is easy to conjure up all sorts of uncanny shapes, from hobgoblins to anthropophagi. The only sounds audible, or apparently audible, are the quickened respiration and the throbbing of the heart. When the voice is raised its effect is strange, and there is no responsive echo. Darkness and silence dwell together. After spending a few seconds--or minutes--in their company, the curator lights his magnesium lamp, and the visitor finds himself in the precincts of "The Cathedral," in the centre of which is a large stalagmite. The roof rises to a height of about 300 feet, 70 feet loftier than Canterbury Cathedral or Notre Dame, and within 100 feet of the altitude of St. Paul's! The walls are composed of limestone, terraced with tier upon tier of stalagmites brought into bold relief by the gloom of innumerable fantastically-shaped recesses. The preacher is Solitude; his theme is "Awful Stillness." Wandering through the nave to the south, the visitor walks over caves not yet opened, but the existence of which can be proved by dropping little pebbles into dark recesses and listening to the percussion on floors more or less remote. In an aisle of the Cathedral leading to the Music Hall, there is another grandly-arched cavern with a steep descent into an abysmal depth. Here on the one side are numerous stalactites, white as virgin snow, and on the other similarly-shaped formations of carbonate of lime tinged with oxide of iron--some of them so deeply as to present the colour of a boiled lobster's crust. This is a favourite clustering place for bats, and numbers of these membranous-winged quadrupeds may be seen snoozing together on the roof.

THE MUSIC HALL.

By means of a wire ladder the excursionist descends still deeper into the bowels of the earth. He then goes farther down by 18 or 20 steps, cut in a clayey substance, to the vestibule of the Music Hall. Some of the stalagmites are stained with clay. They have evidently been used as steadying-posts by visitors who had previously placed their hands on the red earth when working their way down the declivity where the steps are now formed. The other stalagmites away out of reach are white and glistening. The approach to the Music Hall, which was discovered in the summer of 1860, is low. The passage to it is about 35 yards long. The floor is composed entirely of "formation," and at the sides are numerous columns of different colours. The Music Hall itself is about 12 feet in height, and runs out at the end to about two feet. It is called the "Music Hall" because of its very fine acoustic properties. A weak voice raised in song or oratory sounds full and sonorous. This hall encloses a secret which architects of public buildings might covet, and the wonder is how such tonic effects are produced in a chamber which presents so many obstructions to the waves of sound. The floor contains a series of basins, curiously shaped by the water which has been retained in them, until it has escaped by percolation to form stalactites and stalagmites at some lower level. The edges of these shallow reservoirs are sharply defined and gracefully moulded. The formation of the walls is extremely delicate. Some of it is white and some like yellow coral. The roof has been slightly defaced by certain nineteenth century cads. In various places the "mark of the beast," in lampblack, has been produced by holding candles near to the ceiling and moving them about gradually, and the sooty hieroglyphics remain unto this day as an evidence of vanity and folly. The floor, which was once like alabaster, is now soiled by the tramping of feet. But, notwithstanding these defects, the Music Hall is still very beautiful.

THE SHAWL CAVE.

Returning to the main passage, the tourist descends 41 steps, and enters the Shawl Cave, a magnificent chamber, the roof of which slopes at an angle of about 43 degrees. Into one side the "formation" of carbonate of lime has floated like lava in volumes, and presents the appearance of a suddenly congealed cascade. All the adjacent rocks are covered with fine sheets of formation, white and coloured, and hanging in graceful folds. On a far-off wall is more formation of a similar kind, projecting from a perpendicular rock, and variegated with superb tracery and colouring. The "shawls" hang parallel to each other. They gradually increase from six inches to three feet in depth, in a lateral length of from 12 to 15 feet, and at a distance appear as though they had been placed on the wall by an artist; but when the light is put behind them it is seen that they are independent, slightly corrugated, semi-transparent slabs of equal thickness and graduated widths. Of this kind of formation, however, more magnificent specimens are to be found in the Imperial Cave. In another part of this cavern are large detached blocks of formation, which sparkle like diamonds all over the lines of fracture. They are in wild disorder, as though they had been hurled about in some Titanic conflict. The stalactites here are of different character from those found in the other caves, being composite and covered with ornamentation of various kinds. The lower rocks, too, are rippled and chequered like wicker-work, and resemble the formation of the Pink Terraces of Rotomahana, which were destroyed by lava from a volcano in 1886. The roof is about 100 feet high, and the sides of the cave are formed of massive ledges, over which a limey substance has flowed in large masses and assumed elegant shapes fringed with stalactites. Near this place is a hole which goes down to the bottom of another cave. It has not yet been fully explored, but it has been ascertained that its depth is about 120 feet, with a clear pool at the bottom. A stone thrown down it is heard to strike two or three times, and finally splash in the liquid crystal.