After passing the Grotto we drove to Puzzoli. The road is remarkably pleasant, great part of it runs between groves of poplars, planted in regular order, to sustain the vines, in the style of our hop gardens. The vines are loaded with grapes, and, encircling the trees, form a variety of beautiful festoons from one tree to another in every direction. The ground beneath is either covered with grass, or laid out for corn. Turning a little out of the way to the right, we came to Lago D'Agnano, formerly a volcano, now a romantick, beautiful lake. Close to it is a little cave called Grotto del Cane, from a vapour that rises in it so obnoxious to dogs, that it kills them in a few minutes, and doubtless it would have the same effect on man, or any other animal, whose head was held near the ground. Between Lago D'Agnano and Puzzoli, on the side of another extinguished volcano, called the Solfaterra, we saw the Piscatelli, or Boiling Springs, of whose wonderful effect, in turning lava and pumice stone into clay and into soil, I had the same evening the satisfaction of hearing a philosophical account from Sir William Hamilton, with which he has already favoured the public. We hired a boat at Puzzoli, and after rowing about two miles across part of the celebrated Bay of Baia, with Virgil in my pocket, landed close to the Lucrine Lake, at the foot of Monte Nuovo. This mountain, which is several hundred yards in height, and above a mile in circumference, was thrown up by the Lucrine Lake in a violent earthquake in the year 1538. However strange this may appear, such phenomena are by no means uncommon in Italy. The lake was of course much reduced by this eruption, and now only covers three or four acres. It is about ten yards from the sea, and has a sluice to communicate with it. After a short walk in a pleasant vineyard, we entered the Sibyl's Cave, a road cut through a mountain in the style of the Grotto of Pausilippe, but on a smaller scale. The passage from the cave to her palace is only wide enough for one person. After descending ten or twelve yards, we came to her baths, four small chambers with water still in them. We were carried through on men's backs, with candles in our hands, and ascending a little on the opposite side, came to the door of her palace; but it is so choaked up with rubbish, that we were obliged to return without finding an entrance; and passing through her cave and a wild shrubbery on the west of it, we arrived at Lake Avernus, and on the opposite banks saw the grove where Æneas was to find the golden bough.