In various streaks and streamlets the fountain of flame rolled down the dark summit, then undiminished by the eruption of 1822, and the Englishmen began to feel increase upon them, as they ascended, that sensation of solemnity and awe which makes the very atmosphere that surrounds the giant of the Plains of the Antique Hades.
It was night when, leaving the mules, they ascended on foot, accompanied by their guide and a peasant, who bore a rude torch.

Their guide was a conversable, garrulous fellow, like most of his country and his calling; and Merton, whose chief characteristics were a sociable temper and a hardy commonsense, loved to amuse or to instruct himself on every incidental occasion.
"Ah, Excellency," said the guide, "your countrymen have a strong passion for the volcano.

Long life to them; they bring us plenty of money.

If our fortunes depended on the Neapolitans, we should starve." "True, they have no curiosity," said Merton.

"Do you remember, Glyndon, the contempt with which that old count said to us, 'You will go to Vesuvius, I suppose.