e arrival of the diligence
from Palermo. The office is in the Strada Etnea, the main street of
Catania, which runs straight through the city, from the sea to the base of
the mountain, whose peak closes the long vista. The diligence was an hour
later than usual, and I passed the time in watching the smoke which
continued to increase in volume, and was mingled, from time to time, with
jets of inky blackness. The postilion said he had seen fires and heard
loud noises during the night. According to his account, the disturbances
commenced about midnight. I could not but envy my friend Caesar, who was
probably at that moment on the summit, looking down into the seething
fires of the crater.

At last, we rolled out of Catania. There were in the diligence, besides
myself, two men and a woman, Sicilians of the secondary class. The road
followed the shore, over rugged tracts of lava, the different epochs of
which could be distinctly traced in the character of the vegetation. The
last great flow (of 1679) stood piled in long ridges of terrible
sterility, barely allowing the aloe and cactus to take root in the hollows
between. The older deposits were sufficiently decomposed to nourish the
olive and vine; but even here, the orchards were studded with pyramids of
the harder fragments, which are laboriously collected by the husbandmen.
In the few favored spots which have been untouched for so many ages that a
tolerable depth of soil has accumulated, the vegetation has all the
richness and brilliancy of tropical lands. The palm, orange, and
pomegranate thrive luxuriantly, and the vines almost break under their
heavy clusters. The villages are frequent and well built, and the hills
are studded, far and near, with the villas of rich proprietors, mostly
buildings of one story, with verandahs extending their whole length.
Looking up towards Etna, whose base the road encircles, the views are
gloriously rich and beautiful. On the other hand is the blue Mediterranean
and the irregular outline of the shore, here and there sending forth
promontories of lava, cooled by the waves into the most fantastic forms.

We had sot proceeded far before a new sign called my attention to the
mountain. Not only was there a perceptible jar or vibration in the earth,
but a dull, groaning sound, like the muttering of distant thunder, began
to be heard. The smoke increased in volume, and, as we advanced further to
the eastward, and much nearer to the great cone,