That sight--that sight, my friends, is impressed upon my most indelible memory.

I looked down into the lurid depths upon an incandescent lake, a melted fire, a seething sea; the billows rolled from side to side, and on their fiery crests tossed the white skeleton of the suicide.

The heat had burnt the flesh from off the bones; they lay as a light cork upon the melted, fiery waves.

One skeleton hand was raised upward, the finger pointing to heaven; the other, with outstretched finger, pointing downward, as though it would say, 'I go below, but you, Bonaparte, may soar above.' I gazed; I stood entranced.

At that instant there was a crack in the lurid lake; it swelled, expanded, and the skeleton of the suicide disappeared, to be seen no more by mortal eye." Here again Bonaparte rested, and then continued: "The lake of melted stone rose in the crater, it swelled higher and higher at the side, it streamed forth at the top.