"This great volcano rises from the seacoast, between Legaspi and Tabaco, in the form of an almost perfect cone--the white houses and church towers of the surrounding settlements and the deeper-colored verdure of the trees at its base, higher up the brilliant green of the bare glass streaked here and there by old lava flows, and still higher a grayish black cinder and ash cone tapering to the peak, with a small plume of steam escaping apparently from the extreme summit. The ascent is interesting, but may, if proper precautions are not taken, be dangerous. The rise of the land in the first part is scarcely perceptible, the road winding through forest interspersed with great plantations of manila hemp; above, as it becomes steeper, the latter give way almost entirely to tropical jungle; and finally the path emerges into cogonal, which extends as far as the angle of the slope will permit. Here and there the entire slope is cut by deep ravines, indicating old lava flows. The way up the cone at first invariably lies in one of these ravines, but now and again the mountain climber is compelled to cross rolling cinder beds only a few inches deep, and lying upon a harder base, almost invariably with an abrupt descent below. The angle is so great that every precaution must be taken, as a slip would prove fatal. A good steelshod alpenstock is practically indispensable. The last five hundred feet are along the perpendicular lava and tuff crags of the summit, the ambitious climber clinging to the latter with hands and toes, wherever support is possible and slowly working his way to the edge of the crater. Finally, standing upon the rotten foothold afforded by the latter he looks down into what appears to be a deep dark well from which small quantities of sulphur-laden gas escape. Around him on the margin jets of steam arise; the ground on which he stands is hot, the boys carrying the canteens are far below, the dry breeze helps the evaporation, and he realizes that he is very, very thirsty. However, the view from the top repays all effort. The entire southern portion of Luzon is visible, stretching away in a succession of fields, forests, and diminutive villages, to the straits of San Bernardino, across which Samar may be seen, and even Leyte, on a clear day. The lake of Bato, the interisland waters, and finally Burias are seen to the west; to the north there appears apparently one unbroken stretch of land with here and there a glimpse of the sea; and the Gulf of Albay with the towns of Legaspi, Tabaco, and Daraga, as well as the smaller islands to the east, seem to be almost within a stone's throw. I have been high up on the slopes of Etna, at the entrance to the Val del Bobe, from which many travelers maintain the finest in the world is to be obtained, but I certainly think