the sight as long as I live. There was a vast arch in the black rock.
From this arch rushed a clear torrent of lava. It flowed smoothly like
honey. It glowed with all the splendor of the sun. It looked thin like
golden water.

"'I could stir it with a stick,' said one of my friends.

"'I doubt it,' I said. 'See how slowly it flows. It must be very thick
and heavy.'

"To test it we threw pebbles into it. They did not sink, but floated on
like corks. We rolled in heavier stones of seventy or eighty pounds.
They only made shallow dents in the stream and floated down with the
current. A great rock of three hundred pounds lay near. I raised it upon
end and let it fall into the lava. Very slowly it sank and disappeared.

"As the stream flowed on it spread out wider over the mountain. Farther
down the slope it grew darker and harder. It started from the arch like
melted gold. Then it changed to orange, to bright red, to dark red, to
brown, as it cooled. At the lower end it was black and hard and broken
like cinders.

"We climbed a little higher above the arch. There was a kind of chimney
in the rock. Smoke and stream were coming out of it. I went close. The
fumes of sulphur choked me. I reached out and picked some lumps of pure
sulphur from the edge of the rock. For one moment the smoke ceased. I
held my breath and looked down the hole. I saw the glare of red-hot lava
flowing beneath. The mountain was a pot, full of boiling rock."

Another man writes of a visit in 1868, a quieter year.