down, a stream of living fire, and though for a
moment its course was arrested, we had only
to stoop and pick up its loose scoriae, and
find the fire glowing beneath our feet. We
light our cigars at it; and throwing in
paper and other inflammable materials, created
a bright flame. What if this mass had again
moved on? A little more pressure at its
source, and we should have started on our
last trip; even since that night it has actually
recommenced its journey. To stand still on
some spots was impossible, so excessive was the
heat and so strong the odour of the sulphur;
besides, a certain respect for our boots and our
nether garments kept us in motion. The
former we gave up in despair, and the latter
we tucked up to our knees, only to add,
however, one more to the many ills which
flesh is heir to, for our legs were scorched.
So onward, onward, over fissures, breathing
forth flame and smoke—over glowing masses
of fire, with a long jump; stepping now from
one piece of scoriae to another, like dainty
cats shod with nutshells; until we stood by
the glowing river of lava. It was an inappreciable
line which divided us from it; and
it seemed like a freak of nature, which had
split the bed of scoriae in two, and that so
finely as to be imperceptible. Grand as the
spectacle was to the outward eye, it was
not that which impressed me so deeply as
the idea of power which was conveyed by
the silent, majestic, irresistible course of the
miraculous stream. I could understand what
must be the feelings of a savage at seeing a
steam-vessel move over a sea unruffled by a
breath of wind, or a mail-train dashing along
through fertile plains. Where is the motive
power? None but the Great Spirit could
have put them in movement. And such was
my feeling as I looked down on that vast
body of moving liquid fire. Where the surface
was undisturbed for a few moments, and became
black as the surface of a coal fire, the appearance
of the scoriae was as that of coke which had
been well burnt out; and the noise which was
made by the pieces rolling over one another,
was just like that of a load of coke being
thrown out—with this difference, however,
that there was a continuity in the sound:
grinding, grating, crashing against one another—
over and on they went until they arrived
at the brink of a precipice.

We could not see to a greater depth,
perhaps, than from forty to fifty feet; yet the
grandeur of the spectacle was indescribable.
A large mountain of lava accumulated gradually
until it rose to nearly a hundred feet
in height. The pressure from behind increased
with every fresh quantity that was
thrown out from the distant crater. At
length it could no longer maintain its equilibrium.
Small pieces began to drop away;
then a fine sand poured out; then larger
masses were detached, disclosing, as it were,
the mouths of so many furnaces, which
threw out a heat and light that scorched
and blasted us; and then the whole body
poured over in a continuous stream into the
abyss beneath. Whither it went or what
course it took, was hidden from the eye,
but a thick lurid smoke ascended continually,
realising the most vivid descriptions with
which poetry or painting have ever presented
us of the infernal regions. The illusion was
not a little assisted as we stood behind in
the distance and watched the groups who
were standing on the edge of the precipice.
Every line of their figures was drawn distinctly
on the lurid smoke; and, glowing with
the ruddy reflected light, they appeared like
the presiding demons of the scene. Curious
demons, however, many of them proved to
be, and most unspiritually occupied. Some
were baking eggs, or lighting cigars, or hooking
out lava to stick their coppers in. Some
had brought baskets—ham and chicken,
and such like luxuries—and had stowed
themselves away under a mass of coke of
some hundreds weight. Some, again, were
changing their shirts behind heaps of cinders
for the walk up the mountain had made
them hot; and there is nothing which the
Neapolitan so much dreads as a neglect of this
precaution of changing. Others, again, were
descanting on what they had had for supper.
And there were a few, too, who stood by me,
who appeared to be under the influence of a
deeper sentiment; for I heard them exclaiming
as they looked on the wondrous spectacle,
Judgment of God! Chastisement of God!
Generally, however, a Neapolitan crowd is
noisy, whatever may be the cause of their
getting together; and there was laughing,
singing, and shouting enough.

"Birra, birra! who will have some beer?"
roared out a double-bass.

"Fresh water, signore? " insinuated a
tenor, as he rattled his barrel. " With or
without sambuca, signore?"

The orange man and the man with cheap
pastry, too, made their rounds continually;
and last, though not least, the man with
pieces of lava, which he was liberally offering
for thirty grains each.

"Thirty grains! why, you are mad, my
good fellow!"

"Well, what will the signore give?"

"Five grains."

"Five grains! Then go yourself to the
crater, and expose yourself to the danger
to which I have exposed myself. Five grains,
indeed!"

And so we moved off, when my hero cried,
"Well, signore, take it for five grains, for the
sake of friendship. And would the signore
like to go up to the crater?"

"Why, you have just told us that it would
be dangerous to go up!"

"Si, signore, and so it would be without
my assistance; but I know a path over the
lava, and can conduct you safely."

There were several parties near us discussing
and arranging the same trip. Some were