awe-struck multitudes. Should the night
be cloudy, little is to be seen except the
lurid clouds, which, like huge masses of
red-dyed wool, lie piled one upon the other;
but should a land wind, as it did last
night, sweep away these threatening volumes
of smoke, the cone may be seen with
its north side seamed with fires, and the
stream of lava may be watched, like a broad
crimson ribbon, pursuing its silent and almost
imperceptible course down to the base of the
mountain. Not a sound, however, is to be
heard—no thunder—no distant cannonade.

This eruption, which has now continued for
upwards of a week, broke out on the first of
May—the month when birds are singing and
flowers are opening their bosoms to the sun.
The well-known guide, Cozzolino, reported
early in the morning that, on ascending the
mountain, he had heard a noise like thunder,
and that a new mouth had been immediately
formed, from which were ejected flames
and stones. In the afternoon of the same day
the eruption was more decided, and, as night
approached, the mountain assumed the appearance
I have described. A grand spectacle
even at a distance, how much grander must
it be on the summit!

So thought I, and so thought thousands
of others; during the whole of the night
carriages were astir in taking off the curious
to the Hermitage. For myself, I did not go
up till the following evening. Carriages
were of course quadrupled in price; the
Neapolitans are too knowing not to take advantage
of any extraordinary incident; and
it was with difficulty that we could get any
vehicle at any reasonable price. But the
obstacles are overcome, and my friend and I
have at length lighted our cigars, and are
bowling along the Carmine at eight o'clock
p. m., at a good round pace.

On getting out of the city we fall into
one continued line of carriages, all bent
in one direction. On either side of the
road is a crowd of pedestrians, who accompany
us like a body-guard. Sometimes,
indeed, they linger at the stalls with their
little paper light, to lay in the luxuries
of the season as a supply for the night, such
as dried peas and beans, or melon seed, or
shrivelled black olives, or nuts in their
several varieties; and then, running on to
make up for lost time, shout, or sing, or utter
some joke which sets them all a-laughing.
I should not be at all surprised, at its being
at our expense, if I read their looks and signs
aright. There is a species of etiquette which
prevents carriages of high degree from passing
one another on such an occasion as this,
We jog on, therefore, very properly and
orderly for the most part, except when corricoli
shoot by us like a mail-train. See,—one
has just passed us; the coachman, a tall,
laughing-looking devil, in a Phrygian cap,
stands up behind, and rubs the reins against
the shoulders of a fat priest. There are
fifteen passengers, three of whom hang in
a net attached to the bottom of the carriage;
and what is most remarkable of all,
the single horse dashes along at a pace which
would make you believe that he could carry
double the number. On arriving at Resina
we find a motley crowd of guides and donkeys,
facchini, and torchbearers, all insisting
on the necessity of their services, and forthwith
attaching themselves to our persons.
"Let us be off, let us be off, Signore," says a
sly-looking rogue; " Giacchimo is the guide
for you; I know every step of the way,
and can lead you into the crater if you
will." " But, Giacchimo, caro," I argue, " we
are in a carriage, and have no want of a
guide." " Very well, Signore, I will get up
at the back." So there he is, standing between
the spikes, and here we are dragging
up through the accumulation of fine sand,
nearly axle deep in the debris of lava.
"They'll be up to-morrow morning," says
one. " Ah! " cries another, " the mountain
will stop for them, of course; don't you see
they are English ? " The taunts were not
encouraging certainly; so, quickly dismounting,
we took to our legs.

I remember feeling almost a sense of disappointment
as we ascended, for the shape of
the mountain caused the cone, with its magnificent
display of fire to retire altogether from
our sight. We had a better view at Naples, I
thought; wiser to have remained there, and
strolled about Santa Lucia. However, there
we were; another effort, and we should see
what we should see. Torches were blazing
all about us as we went on, and in a blaze
of light, and a cloud of smoke we arrived at
the Hermitage. What a scene of bustle and
confusion it was this night. Hundreds of
vehicles, of every kind of build under the
sun, were assembled here, whilst their temporary
proprietors and their various hangers
on, were spread about the mountain, or else
tending by a rugged path in the direction of
the cone. Over this blasted plain, covered
with strata of lava, we followed the stream of
people. The whole cone was now apparent
to us, irradiating every object with its ruddy
light. It seemed like a huge giant, whose
side was seamed with wounds, from out of
which poured forth his very life-blood.
Sometimes the upper new crater shot up
stones and flames of fire, which, rising and
subsiding at intervals, reminded one of the
action of a forge. And then, from the other
craters the lava gurgled out, which, flowing
down in two distinct streams, united at the
bottom, and running along the valley between
Somma and Vesuvius, were lost to us. To
solve the mystery of its course was our great
object, and we pushed on through the crowd
who were coming and going until we saw
them turn off sharp to the left. It was a
bed of recent lava over which we now passed.
Last night it had been thrown out of the
bowels of the mountain, and had been running