American accent. It was the landlord of the 'Volcano House,' Mr. Kane,
who, fearing from the delay that we had met with some mishap, had
started to look for us. He explained that he thought it was only his
duty to look after and help ladies visiting the volcano, and added
that he had intended going down as far as the 'Half-way House' in
search of us. It was a great relief to know that we were in the right
track, and I quite enjoyed the gallop through the dark forest, though
there was barely sufficient light to enable me to discern the horse
immediately in front of me. When we emerged from the wood, we found
ourselves at the very edge of the old crater, the bed of which, three
or four hundred feet beneath us, was surrounded by steep and in many
places overhanging sides. It looked like an enormous cauldron, four or
five miles in width, full of a mass of cooled pitch. In the centre was
the still glowing stream of dark red lava, flowing slowly towards us,
and in every direction were red-hot patches, and flames and smoke
issuing from the ground. A bit of the 'black country' at night, with
all the coal-heaps on fire, would give you some idea of the scene. Yet
the first sensation is rather one of disappointment, as one expects
greater activity on the part of the volcano; but the new crater was
still to be seen, containing the lake of fire, with steep walls rising
up in the midst of the sea of lava.

Twenty minutes' hard riding brought us to the door of the 'Volcano
House,' from which issued the comforting light of a large wood fire,
reaching halfway up the chimney. Native garments replaced Mabelle's
and my dripping habits, and we sat before the fire in luxury until the
rest of the party arrived. After some delay supper was served, cooked
by our host, and accompanied by excellent Bass's beer, no wine or
spirits being procurable on the premises. Mr. Kane made many apologies
for shortcomings, explaining that his cook had run away that morning,