seen hopping over the mosaic, croaking their solitary homage to the Egyptian god. In the centre of the temple rose the circular shrine, supported by magnificent columns, the stumps of which yet remain, like those of a forest shattered by a tempest. The exterior courts are still supplied with hot springs from Solfatara, used for vapour baths.

In climbing the hills of Pozzuoli, antiquities meet the traveller at almost every step. The Cathedral stands upon the site of the temple of Apollo, some remains of which are yet discoverable. Higher up the acclivity, sarcophagi sculptured with bas-relief have been found in excavating a garden. Close to the shore of the bay, and commanding a full view of Cape Misenus, stood a villa of Cicero, where many of his philosophical works were written. A few traces of it are yet visible. On the brow of the eminence above, was an amphitheatre, next perhaps to the Coliseum in dimensions. The foundations are tolerably perfect, though entirely overgrown with shrubbery. A threshing-floor has been formed on the ramparts; and the arena has been converted into a luxuriant garden. Two gloomy chapels have been fitted up in the subterranean corridors, and the ruin possesses great religious sanctity, on account of the martyrdom of St. Januarius, who here performed several miracles, but at last could not save his life from his blood-thirsty persecutors, and as the tradition runs, he was torn in pieces by wild beasts. Not far from the amphitheatre was an extensive reservoir, for supplying it with water. The subterranean arches are nearly perfect, and are now denominated from their intri cacy the Labyrinth of Dædalus.

The Solfatara is the only remaining object, with a notice of which I shall tax the patience of my readers in this excursion. It is situated on the summit of the hill a mile and a half from Pozzuoli, and consists of the crater of a volcano, the fires of which are not yet extinguished. The basin is nearly circular, half a mile in diameter, and bordered by a high rim. A few patches of the prickly gorse and wild rose are the only traces of vegetation, to break the sterility and desolation of the region. The rest of the area is naked marl, of a tawny, brimstone complexion, and so hot as to be insupportable to the naked feet. Smoke issues from half a dozen different places, and in the night a blue, lambent flame is visible. We descended into one of the pits, whence the steam bursts with such violence, as to throw up pebbles and particles of sand from the aperture of the subterranean furnace. The boiling and hissing of the water were distinctly heard beneath us. Large quantities of sulphur and vitriol are deposited upon the rocks, near the orifice. The process of nature suggested a manufactory, and Murat used hence to derive the elements of his gun

powder. From all appearances the crust of earth, forming the roof of the great laboratory, is thin. It rings to the tread of the feet. Peter lifted a large stone, and hurling it upon the surface produced an echo clearly distinguishable in the vault below. It is the general opinion that the arch will at some future period give way, and perhaps disclose a lake of liquid fire. If the Italians had as much enterprise as our countrymen in boring, spiracula would soon be opened to the world below, were it merely from motives of curiosity. Some of Milton's sublimest images of the infernal regions are supposed to have been borrowed from this place, and the burning marl, over which his fallen angels walked, correspond very nearly with the Solfatara.

LETTER LXVI.

EXCURSION TO THE TOP OF VESUVIUS-HERCULANEUM.

May, 1826.

OUR visit to Vesuvius occupied the greater part of a day. Wishing to see the sun rise from the top of the mountain, we left Naples at one o'clock in the morning, taking a fiacre as far as the village of Portici, nearly half the distance of the seven or eight miles. At the hour of our departure, the skies were free from clouds, but suffused with redness, giving to the moon and stars a sultry, fiery aspect. The city was for once found in a state of perfect silence, and the lazzaroni, who had no homes, snored quietly in their baskets. There was something peculiarly solemn in the hollow murmurs of the waves, at this witching time of night. Not a person was seen moving, save the sentinels stationed along the road, who permitted us to pass without molestation.

On arriving at Portici, or more properly at Resina, a small contiguous village, we roused up Salvadore Madonna, the famous guide for the mountain, who rose with some reluctance, before he and his mules had been sufficiently refreshed by sleep from the labours of the preceding day. After rubbing open his eyes and taking an observation at the heavens, like old Palinurus, he said we had come too early, and had selected an unfortunate day, as the sirocco was blowing, and the mountain would be covered with clouds. He would however accompany us, if it was our pleasure. Making due allowances for his wish to finish his morning nap, and fearing that circumstances might be equally unfavourable on another morning, we concluded to persevere in the excursion. The donkeys were saddled with all possible despatch, and our little caravan took up the line of march in total darkness, as the day had not yet dawned, and the moon had gone down. But Salvadore could probably perform the route blindfold, having been trained to it from childhood.

The path at first leads through a faubourg of the village, straggling for some distance up the acclivity, and thence crosses beds of lava, which came down in molten torrents, and congealed in dark, shapeless, desolate masses, about which not a blade of verdure is to be seen. A more dreary, gloomy picture cannot be imagined. The belts are of the width of broad rivers, sometimes a mile in breadth, extending from the cone to the margin of the bay; and in some instances, they have poured their burning streams into the water. There is much more

asperity in the surface of the beds, than I expected to find. Protuberances five or six feet in height, and of the most fantastic shapes, are scattered over the hideous tracks, having nearly the same degree of roughness, that a torrent of water would assume in rolling down the hill, and freezing as it broke over the obstacles opposing its passage. The complexion and general appearance of the beds at a distance is not unlike that of a newly ploughed field, in a rude state, with a black soil.

About midway between Resina and the base of the Cone, stands the Hermitage, on a high ridge which may emphatically be considered as an island, surrounded by broad torrents of lava on either hand. The solitary white house is kept by a monk, who affords refreshments to travellers. His tenement is furnished with a large bell, which he rings every Sunday morning, and on other feast days, probably to let the world beneath him know that he is alive. At certain seasons, religious processions from Naples and the neighbouring villages climb to the Hermitage, to celebrate the anniversaries of some of their saints. The brow of the hill in front of the house has been planted with trees, and a dozen little shrines have been erected in imitation of Mount Calvary. As we were in great haste to reach the top of the mountain, the morning dreams of the monk were not disturbed.

On leaving the Hermitage, the path winds along the spine of the ridge, bordered with verdure, which becomes extremely grateful amidst the solitary waste. The point of the island soon terminates in other beds of lava, which extend to the foot of the Cone, and over which our donkeys picked their way at a snail's pace, notwithstanding all our efforts to hasten them forward. For the greater part of the distance, the path is passable for horses, and Salvadore could not introduce an improvement more acceptable to travellers, than by substituting a better sort of animals in place of his jackasses. It is much harder work to ride them than to climb the hill on foot. They are also very unsafe. One of our countrymen last winter was pitched thrice among the crags of lava, and came near breaking his neck.

To our inexpressible regret, on arriving at the base of the Cone, the predictions of the guide had proved true, and the whole hill was enveloped in a dense cloud, so that our horizon did not extend twenty feet in any direction. Here another question arose, whether or not it was worth while to ascend farther, under such circumstances. But perseverance carried us onward. Throwing aside our cloaks, and tying our donkeys to lumps of lava, we plunged into the mist and commenced crawling up an acclivity, rising with an angle of about 45 degrees, and composed of cinders, ashes, and loose

stones. The summit is between three and four thousand feet above the level of the sea. Fortunately, only a small portion of the toilsome heights could be seen in advance. Salvadore came panting after us, directing us not to walk so fast. The fatigues of the ascent appeared to us very much exaggerated; and to persons of ordinary activity, sedan chairs, belts about the loins, and pilgrim staves are a useless apparatus. Much less weariness was experienced, than in climbing Mam Tor, in Derbyshire Peak. The walk was accomplished in less than an hour, and without resting but For the greater part of the way, the route leads up a furrow in the hill, into which stones have tumbled, forming tolerable foothold. Smoke gushes out in sundry places along the way, and the hand cannot bear the heat of the surface.

once.

On reaching the top at about 6 o'clock in the morning, we for a time abandoned all hope of being adequately compensated for our toil, so far as it regarded a prospect. The crater was entirely filled with thick clouds, mingled with smoke, tumbling in broken volumes over the verge, and hanging in wreaths about the black crags. It was impossible for the eye to penetrate ten feet into the abyss, and the imagination was left to fathom its gloomy depths Here we were, involved in mist, and without cloaks. Great difficulty was experienced in persuading the guide to wait an hour, with the hope of a change of weather. At length he consented, and finding a warm place, under the rocks near one of the spiracula, he stretched himself out upon the cinders, and finished his interrupted slumbers; while we amused ourselves in throwing stones into the apertures, to hear them rumble in the caverns below. The vapour rising out of these crevices exactly resembles that issuing from a hot chimney or brick-kiln, and the hand is as soon scorched in coming in contact with it. A low, heavy, sullen sound of the subterranean furnaces is heard, though less distinctly than at the Solfatara.

After a sleepless night and the fatigues of the morning, nothing but intense curiosity kept us from following the example of our guide, and patience was nearly exhausted, when casting my eye towards the crater, I perceived a change in the aspect of the clouds. More of the abyss became every moment visible. The dark, ragged rocks forming the circumference, and shooting up into rude shattered peaks, were developed one by one, till glimpses of the very bottom, at the depth of fifteen hundred or two thousand feet, alternately appeared and vanished. Soon the disk of the sun was seen through the mist, "shorn of his beams." On turning to the outward verge of the crater, a scene was witnessed which wholly baffles description.