The scene that broke upon us, as we arrived, was one of the most extraordinary I ever witnessed. At that instant an ordinary cloud enveloped the summit of the cone, shutting out the whole view, with the exception of the crater and the surrounding objects, and casting a sombre tint on everything. It is probable a few rays from the sun struggled through this vapour, which was not high above our heads, though it seemed to descend half way down the cone, for the streaks of sulphur looked brighter and more unnatural than afterwards. The yellow tint they cast around them, the unnatural, or rather supernatural effect, coupled with the gaping crater, the rumbling of the volcano, and the occasional explosions, combined to give the spot a resemblance to the entrance of the infernal regions. If I could fancy I was obtaining glimpses in at the glories and calm radiance of heaven, when I looked upon the high Alps, looming above the Niesen and cut off from the lower world by a belt of vapour, I had no difficulty in now fancying that I stood on the threshold of hell. Virgil died about half a century before the volcano resumed its action, or he certainly would never have taxed his imagination to use the Lake Avernus, Mare Morto, and Elysian Fields of the Baian shore as machinery for his epic, when Vesuvius presented objects so much more worthy of the subject. The Campagna was as good an Elysian Field as heart could wish, and the crater a Tartarus equal to the epic. It is true, there is no Styx; but the monk I saw at the Hermitage would answer every reasonable purpose of a Charon. The “_facilis descensus Averni_” would, also, have been physically true, supposing the crater always to maintain its present form; for the circuit of the rim, or upper edge, is not made without hazard, as poor W---- was near demonstrating, in the workings of some of his _goatisms_. The crater, however, changes its appearance at every great convulsion; though the one I have described, I am told, is its general character.