On the first of July, the ancient crater had wholly disappeared, being filled with ashes and lava, and a new one was formed in the eastern part of the mountain, about six hundred feet in depth, and having about the same width at the opening. Several persons, on the above day, descended about half-way down this new mouth, and remained half an hour very near the flames, admiring the spectacle presented by the liquid lava, which bubbled up at the bottom of the crater, like the fused matter in a glass-house. This eruption continued until September, made great ravages, and was considered as one of the most terrible that had occurred in the memory of the inhabitants. MOUNT HECLA. [See cut, page 29.] “Still pressing on beneath Tornea’s lake, And Hecla flaming through a waste of snow, And farthest Greenland, to the pole itself, Where, falling gradual, life at length goes out, The Muse expands her solitary flight; And hov’ring o’er the wide stupendous scene, Beholds new scenes beneath another sky. Throned in his palace of cerulean ice, Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court, And through his airy hall the loud misrule Of driving tempest is forever heard; Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath; Here arms his winds with all-subduing frost, Molds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows.” On proceeding along the southern coast of Iceland, and at an inconsiderable distance from Skalholt, Mount Hecla, with its three summits, presents itself to the view. Its hight is five thousand feet, or nearly a mile above the level of the sea. It is not a promontory, but lies about four miles inland. It is neither so elevated nor so picturesque as several of the surrounding Icelandic mountains; but has been more noticed than many other volcanoes of an equal extent, partly through the frequency of its eruptions, and partly from its situation, which exposes it to the view of many ships sailing to Greenland and North America. The surrounding territory has been so devastated by these eruptions, that it has been deserted. “Vast regions dreary, bleak and bare! There on an icy mountain’s hight, Seen only by the moon’s pale light Stern Winter rears his giant form, His robe a mist, his life a storm: His frown the shiv’ring nations fly, And, hid for half the year, in smoky caverns lie.” [Illustration: MOUNT HECLA AND THE GEYSERS.]