Every traveller certainly owes M.Geimard the warmest thanks for this convenience.

A peasant, the same who guides travellers to the springs, has the charge of it, and is bound to pitch it for any one for a fee of one or two florins.
When my tent was ready it was nearly eleven o'clock.

My companions retired, and I remained alone.
It is usual to watch through the night in order not to miss an eruption.
Now, although an alternate watching is no very arduous matter for several travellers, it became a very hard task for me alone, and an Icelandic peasant cannot be trusted; an eruption of Mount Hecla would scarcely arouse him.
I sat sometimes before and sometimes in my tent, and listened with anxious expectation for the coming events; at last, after midnight--the witching hour--I heard some hollow sounds, as if a cannon were being fired at a great distance, and its echoing sounds were borne by the breeze.

I rushed from my tent and expected subterranean noises, violent cracking and trembling of the earth, according to the descriptions I had read.

I could scarcely repress a slight sensation of fear.