From this point there is a fine view of the cave, which presents the illusive appearance of being an extended cavern or subterranean passage underlying the whole mountain. The music of the trickling water falls pleasantly on the ear, and the lights, seen in the distance, lend enchantment to the view. The second section of the central figure is a faithful re presentation of a white-pine forest, the profile of the ground or side of the hill being in strict congruity with the trees and vegetation. The third section is a scene in Norway. A belt of dark green native forest trees, with occasional patches of grass, where the deer browse, give variety and relief to the scenery. The fourth section is an elaborately cultivated French garden. A parterre, with flowers, sec tions of turf, statuary, vases, all the choice productions from every clime, fountains, the whole crowned with a splendid specimen of the Agave Americana. This is a fair illustra tion of what landscape gardeners would term an irregular taste, but producing, by great profusion and variety, a charming effect. The fifth is an exhibition of an iron and coal mountain. Rough sandstone formation, slate, coal and iron ore, with laurel and hemlock, are its particular features. The design in this instance is forcibly car ried out. The last section is intended to con vey a topographical appearance of a hemlock rogion. Broken shade, tumbling debris and decaying matter, fully continue the harmony of the natural proportions. Surmounting the central picture there is a rustic summer house, which is reached by winding steps, formed out of the projecting rocks. There are no less than thirty light “ booths” or halls in the Pittsburgh Fair, each filled with articles of utility and beauty. In the Curiosity Shop, and the Mechanical Depart ment, there is much not only to interest and to instruct, but also to excite the admiration and sympathy of those who have been steadily working from the begining for the relief of those who are fighting in our stead. The pecuniary result of the patriotic effort of our Pittsburgh colleagues is, of course, not yet known, but the indications are ample that it will be highly creditable. ITEMS BY A CAVALRY MAN. Buzzard's Roost, May, 1804. On the march from Stevenson, Alabama, to Bridgeport, in September, 18G3, the wagon trains passed by way of a pontoon bridge across the Tennessee, while we forded the stream several miles above. The ford was the deepest we had ever seen, our horses swim ming for many yards, while we sat like mon keys on the saddles, with our legs curled under us. Now and then a plunge, and a volley of not very suppressed execrations, told of a drenched soldier and dripping baggage, lost frying-pans or escaped housewives. Tired and wet, we encamped for the night at Cave Springs, at the foot of Raccoon Mountain, a spur of the since famous Lookout. The next morning a party of us set out to explore Hill’s Cave, which was discovered last spring, and might pass for the original of Cudjo’s Cave, Otjb ID A. I LIT Pabe. did it not labor under the disadvantage of being some miles south of that classic rendez vous. Provided with torches, we descended into the habitation of the gnomes, and paused in the gothic chamber, which is hung with ex quisite draperies of stalactitic formation, upon which the effect of the torch-light is enchant ing. There are windows surmounted by the gothic arch, at irregular intervals around the room, upon whose architraves the newly form ing stalagmites look like pale roses blooming, silent blossoms, white, rigid, odorless, moist with eternal dew. We were silent for a mo ment after entering the room ; then Lieutenant W. quoted: “ Deep in tho earth, Lies the land of the gnomes; In that country Are neither stars nor meadows; Moonlight and starlight Shine not upon them. Birds do not sing there; Barley does not grow there; Bees and hies Saw I never there. They see no clouds, Yet sometimes rain Falleth upon them Down through tho rocks. But it is very light In the land of tho gnomes, For they have bright stones Which Hash in tho dark Like the eyes Of an angry wolf; So the house is lighted.” The echoes of his voice died away slowly, and as we listened for the answering song of the Melusina of this cave, the light of coming torches shed its thousand hues upon the walls of a distant passage. Each crystal burned like diamonds as the lights came near, and a loud hallo! was answered by our own. Away rolled the voices into the “ white darkness” of the unexplored cavern, and out trooped a little party with our dear old General Rosecrans at its head. They had been lost in these cata combs for nearly an hour, and their bronzed faces had already begun to reflect the pallor of the surrounding walls. Happily we had not lost our clue, and piloted to the upper end the man who then held the key of Tennessee in his strong grasp. Returning, we passed through the Spring Chamber, in which was a fluted column (stalagmitic) 15 feet high, and about 4 in diameter, very symmetrical in its proportions. Further on is the bar room, in which is a bar, and one side of it an entrance into what we called the Wine Cellars. Here, having by strict investigation discovered the presence of a few “hard tacks” and some cigars, we re solved to lunch, if that may be called a lunch which is to be followed by no dinner. Seating ourselves upon the dwarf stalag mites that clustered around one of larger dimensions, we felt like immortals " sitting on golden stools at golden tables!” Our ambrosia was hard tack, and of nectar we only dreamed, as “ floods of Chian ” rarely flow with an army on “the advance.” But the flow of soul amply atoned for the slight deficiency. Then, perhaps for the first time, the world-old rock vibrated to the sound of Yankee voices, and then and there we gave a toast: “Vicks burg and Charleston; long may their sieges live in song and story! and may Americans never forget Grant and Gilmore!” which was gravely eaten in a stout “ McClellan pie.” The bulletins had deceived us; Charleston was not yet ours, but none the less honor to Gilmore, and may he prove as efficient in Vir ginia as he did before Charleston! Then followed a song from our two Yale boys, who had thrown away their hopes of the “ wooden spoon,” and have since laid them down to sleep—one under the willows of Mount Au burn, beside quiet friends; the other on the stony face of old Lookout, wrapped in a com rade’s blanket, among hundreds of his power less enemies. But no thought of death was there as the old college song rang out, with its air, we all know now as “Maryland, my Maryland: ” Lauriger Horatins, quam dixisti rerum; Fugit Euro citius tempus edax erum; Übi aunt, o pocula dulciora melle? Rixae, pax et oscula rubontia pueltoef Grescit uva molllter, et puella crcacit, Sed poota turpiter sitiens caneacit. Quid juvat aeternitas nominia, amare Nisi terrae Alias licet et potare? Then uprose a gallant captain, who had cap tured more prisoners than any other man in the regiment. A fearless, genial fellow, who had proved himself such a magnet to all sol diers that, in engagements, he is^ often sent to the rear to rally stragglers. At the first sound of his cheery voice, at the first sight of his uplifted sabre, these weak fringes of the army cluster around him as if he were their flag, and back he rushes into the heat of the con flict they have just fled, his little legion behind him, echoing his shouts with all the enthusi asm his courage has inspired in them. Now, the captain knows about as much Latin as the King of Dahomey —EPluribus Unum, lex talio nis, vi et armis, veni, vidi, viei, and et tu Brute comprising about his whole stock in the lan guage. “ Gentlemen,” he said, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, “ I rise to a point of—eloquence. Allow me to propose that the soul-inspiring song we have just heard under circumstances of such peculiar interest, be sung in the ver nacular for the benefit of the illiterati who may be present. I offer you a translation, whose crowning merit is that it is purely lite ral, and as it was written by a friend some years ago, I may mention that it is an im promptu.” Hurras greeted the proposition, and the fol lowing was given: Laurel-crowned Horatlus, listen to my story, Time flies by on eager wing—with it war and glory. Soon will come, 0, brothers, door! lips of sweetest honey, Peoco and kisses, blushing girls—yes, and piles of money, Grapes are growing home for us, maiden’s love is near us, White-haired poets sing our deeds, country’s love must cheer us; Soon will come, 0, brothers, dear! lips of sweetest honey, Peace and kisses, blushing girls—yes, and piles of money*