We paused to contemplate the sublimity of this vivid scene. It was one calculated to interest the naturalist, and to please the eye of the poet. The wonderful imagination of a Milton, or the great genius of a Byron could here find a theme on which their minds could feast. The lava had burst forth from its prison cell, in the bowels of the earth, on the south side of the mountain, some thirty miles above the town of Hilo, which is situated at the head of a beautiful bay bearing the name of Byron. The close approximation of the town to the mountain rendered destruction almost certain. The mountain was covered with a dense growth of timber, and as the mighty stream of running lava drew near, the forest seemed to catch an electric spark, and in the twinkling of an eye, one sheet of flame burst forth, reaching from Pueo to Puna, about three miles in width. The startled Kanaka fled for his life, leaving his grass thatched home to the devastating fire. I stood, with my companion, upon a craggy peak overlooking the waters of Waikahalulu. Below us was a beautiful cascade, and over this the lava swept with astonishing rapidity. Oh, it was a grand sight--the burning of the forest, the crackling and falling of the trees, the rushing of the lava, the hissing and spouting of the water, the clouds of steam and vapor, mingled with the shrieks and shouts of the natives! I saw a man in his frenzy try to leap a boiling stream; his foot slipped, and he fell. A cloud of vapor hid him from view, but an agonizing shriek told too well his fate. Our native guide refused to stay longer with us, but the increasing danger added to our excited fascination, and we declined to retreat. At this moment, the wind shifted, and a strong breeze from the south lifted the banks of smoke and steam, giving us a fair view of the town that nestled so lovingly on the green lawn at our feet. We could see groups of people laden with what they could carry, hurrying from their homes to places of greater safety. A few ships were anchored in the bay, and between them and the shore, small boats were rapidly plying, evidently carrying the wealthier citizens to these prepared places of safety. While viewing this romantic picture, a low rumbling was heard. It grew louder and louder until it seemed the heavens were rent in twain, and the ground reeled and tottered beneath our feet. We fell prostrate to the earth, and held our breath, through fear. A thick cloud of vapor, or hot steam, swept over us, followed by the pattering sound of falling stones hurled from the crater by the power of her convulsive throes, but returning to the earth in obedience to the law of gravity. This shock had hardly passed, when the rain began to fall in torrents, but the flow of the volcano had spent its force. The fiery waves rolled back as if sorry for the destruction they had done, retaining for a moment their red glaring frown, then changed to a black, barren, chasm-scarred waste. Hilo was saved.