they were intensely hot and bright, making the cone look as if it too was
red-hot. But it was not so, he says, really. The colour of the stones
was rather "golden, and they spotted the black cone over with their
golden showers, the smaller ones stopping still, the bigger ones rolling
down, and jumping along just like hares." "A wonderful pedestal," he
says, "for the explosion which surmounted it." How high the stones flew
up he could not tell. "There was generally one which went much higher
than the rest, and pierced upwards towards the moon, who looked calmly
down, mocking such vain attempts to reach her." The large stones, of
course, did not rise so high; and some, he says, "only just appeared over
the rim of the cone, above which they came floating leisurely up, to show
their brilliant forms and intense white light for an instant, and then
subside again."

Try and picture that to yourselves, remembering that this was only a
little side eruption, of no more importance to the whole mountain than
the fall of a slate off the roof is of importance to the whole house. And
then think how mean and weak man's fireworks, and even man's heaviest
artillery, are compared with the terrible beauty and terrible strength of
Madam How's artillery underneath our feet.

C
/ | \
/ | \
A /---+---\ E
/ | \
/-----+-----\ E
Ground / | B \ Ground
---------/ | \------------
| D | | D | D |