No Englishman or American would ever allow a horse to be treated
so.
"The Hermitage is a small cabin, where one can buy a little wine or
any other refreshment one may need. There is a species of wine made of
the grapes of Vesuvius, called 'Lachryma Christi,' that has a great
reputation. Here was a miscellaneous collection of beggars, ragged
boys, men playing guitars, bawling donkey drivers, and people wanting
to sell sticks or minerals, the former to assist in the ascent, and
the latter as specimens of the place. In the midst of the commotion we
were placed on our donkeys, and the serious, pensive brutes moved
away. At last we reached the top of the mountain, and I gladly sprang
on firm land. The whole top of the mountain was covered with wavering
wreaths of smoke, from the shadows of which emerged two English
gentlemen, who congratulated us on our safe arrival, and assured us
that we were fortunate in our day, as the mountain was very active. We
could hear a hollow, roaring sound, like the burning of a great
furnace, but saw nothing. 'Is this all?' I said. 'Oh, no. Wait till
the guide comes up with the rest of the party,' and soon one after
another came up, and we then followed the guide up a cloudy, rocky
path, the noise of the fire constantly becoming nearer. Finally we
stood on the verge of a vast, circular pit about forty feet deep, the
floor of which is of black, ropy waves of congealed lava.
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