" Our guide, with his cocked hat and
lantern, walked ahead, apparently in a now of excellent spirits. These
caverns and tombs appeared to be his particular forte, and he
magnified his office in showing them. Down stairs we went, none of us
knowing what we wanted to see, or why. Our guide steps forth, unlocks
the gate? of Hades, and we enter a dark vault with a particularly
earthy smell. Bang! he shuts the door after him. Clash! he locks it;
now we are in for it! and elevating his lantern, he commences a
deafening proclamation of some general fact concerning the very
unsavory place in which we find ourselves. Of said proclamation I hear
only the thundering _"Voila"_ at the commencement. Next he
proceeds to open the doors of certain stone vaulted chambers, where
the great men are buried, between whose claims and their Creator's
there seems to be such an uncertainty in France. Well, here they were,
sure enough, maintaining their claim by right of possession.
_"Voila le tombeau de Rousseau!"_ says the guide. All walked in
piously, and stood to see a wooden tomb painted red. At one end the
tomb is made in the likeness of little doors, which stand half open,
and a hand is coming out of them holding a flambeau, by which it is
intimated, I suppose, that Rousseau in his grave is enlightening the
world.
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