By this time we come to where the footing is more firm and solid, but the way not less trying and difficult. There are many narrow and yawning crevices to cross, many deep openings to shun on the right and left—some of them large enough to swallow a good-sized house. Perchance it was one of these dark caverns wherein dwelt that lazy hag, with a fox and a slimy serpent as her sole companions—I mean that weird witch who cursed Glaucus and Ione and helped Arbaces, the Egyptian, to work out his diabolical purposes. This part of the cone is composed of black and hardened lava, hideously rough and jagged, porous as honeycomb. Here and there small jets of smoke and hot steam, some of them no larger than my thumb, others as large as my arm, or twice as large, can be seen spouting from the crevices and openings. We frequently stop and warm our feet at these “flues,” but the flames are so strongly impregnated with sulphur that we can not stand it long at a time. We are now within two hundred yards of the top. It looks dangerous to go farther, but our guide says we have only to follow him, and follow him we do. After scaling with great difficulty and some danger the steep and rocky sides, we reach the crater’s brink and look down into Vulcan’s Forge, into that deep and awful abyss from which clouds of sulphurous vapors are rising as from the gates of perdition. A strong wind blowing from the north drives the smoke and steam in the opposite direction. This enables us to see better and induces us to venture too near the edge. All at once the wind changes and suddenly we are enveloped in dense fumes of sulphur. To retreat in the dark is perilous—to remain long in this sulphur is death. I swallow some of the steam which is so strong with sulphur that it instantly scalds my throat and lungs. What can be done! Johnson and I have hold of each other’s hands. I fall to the ground pulling him with me. Thus by keeping our mouths close to the ground, we manage to get fresh air enough to keep from being suffocated. When the wind shifts and the smoke lifts, we lose no time in changing to a less dangerous place. Some time ago a German was unfortunate enough to fall into this fearful chasm. What an awful death! How thankful I am for God’s preserving care! By this time night has come, and as we stand in darkness, looking down into this fearful abyss, we can see the lurid flames writhing and leaping, casting up great quantities of glowing brimstone and red-hot lava hundreds of feet into the air. The next moment the lava is falling around us in showers of living fire. The pieces are of all shapes and vary greatly in size. While some of them are no larger than a marble, others are large as a saucer—perchance as large as a plate.