At length, we passed on far into the cave, and, turning, looked back toward the sea. As, motionless and speechless, I surveyed it, the thought which thrilled me to the heart was this: that Nature, heedless of man's presence or existence, moves grandly on in her appointed path, obedient to Divine command; for, far away on this northwestern limit of the world, the waves had echoed thus when Egypt reared her pyramids, and Greece and Rome were yet unborn; the same sad requiem was chanted when Jesus hung upon the Cross; empires, dynasties, civilizations even, have risen, flourished, and decayed, while the unceasing music of these ocean surges rose and fell as now. Moreover, during those unnumbered centuries, day after day, year after year, with ceaseless regularity, the radiance of the setting sun had changed this dark Plutonic passage to a path of gold. Was, then, this glory wasted, when no human eye beheld it? Far from it. Man is not everything upon this planet. The mighty cave of Fingal teaches us this secret of the universe, - that here, as everywhere, in ways unknown to man, the elements pay homage to their Maker. In this way only can we comprehend why countless aeons ere a human eye beheld a sunset here, or an ear listened to this ocean symphony, the vast Atlantic thundered its exultant anthem through this majestic minster of the sea.

The Entrance.

Looking Seaward.