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Both sea and land looked dark and confused, as if only emerging from their original chaos ;a and light and dark ness seemed still undivided, till the morning, by degrees advancing, completed the separation. The stars are extinguished, and the shades disappear. The forests, which brit now seemed black and bottomless gulfs, from which no ray was reflected to show their form or colors, appear a new creation, rising to the sight, and catching life and beauty from every increasing beam.
15. The scene still enlarges, and the horizon seems to widen and expand itself on all sides, till the sun, like the great Creator, appears in the east, and with his plastic rays completes the mighty scene. All appears enchantment; and it is with difficulty we can believe we are still on earth.—The senses, unaccustomed to the sublimity of such a scene, are bewildered and confounded; and it is not till after some time, that they are capable of separating and judging of the objects that compose it.
16. The body of the sun is seen rising from the ocean, immense tracts both of sea and land intervening;b the islands of Lipari, Panari, Alicudi, Strombolo, and Volcano, with their smoking summits, appear under your feet: you look down on the whole of Sicily as on a map; and can trace every river through all its windings, from its source to its mouth.
17. The view is absolutely boundless on every side; nor is there any one object within the circle of vision to interrupt it; so that the sight is every where lost in the immensity; and I am persuaded it is only from the imperfection of our organs, that the coasts of Africa, and even of Greece, are not discovered, as they are certainly above the horizon. The circumference of the visible horizon, on the top of Ætna, cannot be less than two thousand miles.
18. But the most beautiful part of the scene is certainly the mountain itself, the island of Sicily, and the numerous islands lying around it. All these, by a kind of magic in vision that I am at a loss to account for, seem as if they were brought close around the skirts of Ætna —the distances appearing reduced to nothing.
19. The Regione Deserta, or the frigid zone of Ætna, is the first object that calls your attention. It is marked out by a ll circle of snow and ice, which extends on all sides to the distance of about eight miles. In the center of this circle, the great crater of the mountain rears its burning head; and the regions of intense cold and of intense heat seem for ever to be united in the same point. a Cha'os, confused mass.
0 In-ter-ve-ning, coming between.
20. The Regione Deserta is immediately succeeded by the - Sylvosa, or the woody region, which forms a circle or girdle
of the most beautiful green, surrounding the mountain on all sides; and it is certainly one of the most delightful spots on earth. This presents a remarkable contrast with the desert region. It is not smooth and even, like the greatest part of the latter; but is finely variegated by an infinite number of those beautiful little mountains, that have been formed by the different eruptions of Ætna.
21. All these have now acquired a wonderful degree of fertility, except a very few that are but newly formed,—that is, within these five or six hundred years; for it certainly requires some thousands to bring them to their greatest degree of perfection. We looked down into the craters of these, and attempted, but in vain, to number them.
22. The circumference of this zone, or great circle on Ætna, is not less than 70 or 80 miles. It is every where succeeded by the vineyards, orchards, and corn fields, that compose the Regione Cultra, or the fertile region. This last zone is much oroader than the others, and extends on all sides to the foot of the mountain. Its whole circumference, according to Recupero, is 183 miles.
23. It is likewise covered with a number of little conical and spherical mountains, and exhibits a wonderful variety of forms and colors, and makes a delightful contrast with the other two regions. It is bounded by the sea to the south and
south-east, and on all its other sides by the rivers Semetus I and Alcantara, which run almost around it. The whole course
of these rivers is seen at once, and all their beautiful windings through these fertile valleys looked upon, as the favorite possession of Ceres" herself.
24. Cast your eyes a little farther, and you embrace the whole island, and see all its cities, rivers, and mountains, delineated in the great chart of nature,-all the adjacent islands,
the whole coast of Italy, as far as your eye can reach ;-for is it is no where bounded, but every where lost in space. On
the sun's first rising, the shadow of the mountain extends
across the whole island, and makes a large track, visible even į in the sea and in the air. By degrees this is shortened, and, & in a little time, is confined only to the neighborhood of Ætna. j. 25. We had now time to examine the fourth region of that
wonderful mountain, very different indeed from the others, el and productive of very different sensations; but which has
undoubtedly given being to all the rest ;-I mean the region
& Va-ri-e-ga-tel, diversified.
Con-i-cal in the form of a cone.
e Spher'-i-cal, gionular, round.
of fire. The present crater of this immense volcano, is a circle of about three miles and a half in circumference. It goes shelving down on each side, and forms a regular hollow, like a vast amphitheater.
26. From many places of this space, issue volumes of sulphureous smoke, which, being much heavier than the circumambienta air, instead of rising in it, as smoke generally does, immediately on its getting out of the crater it rolls down the side of the mountain like a torrent, till coming to that part of the atmosphere of the same specific gravity with itself, it shoots off, horizontally, and forms a large track in the air, according to the direction of the wind, which, happily for us, carried it exactly to the side opposite to that where we were placed.
27. The crater is so hot that it is very dangerous, if not impossible, to go down into it; besides, the smoke is very incommodious, and in many places the surface is so soft, there have been instances of people sinking into it, and paying for their temerity with their lives. Near the center of the crater, is the great mouth of the volcano -that tremendous gulf so celebrated in all ages, and looked upon as the i terror and scourge both of this and another life. We beheld it with awe and with horror, and were not surprised that it had been considered as the place of eternal punishment.
28. When we reflect on the immensity of its depth, the i vast cells and caverns whence so many lavas have issued, the force of its internal fire, to raise up those lavas to so vast, a height, to support as it were in the air, and even to force them over the very summit of the crater,-with all the dreadful accompaniments,-the boiling of the matter, the shaking of the mountain, the explosion of flaming rocks, &c.—we must allow that the most enthusiastic imagination in the midst of all its terrors, hardly ever formed an idea of a hell more dreadful.
The Widow and her Sok. 1, DURING my residence in the country, I used frequently, to attend at the old village church, which stood in a country Alled with ancient families, and contained within its cold and
Cir-bum-am-bi-ent, surrounding. b In-com-mo-dl-ous, inconvenient
silent aisles, the congregated dust of many noble generations. Its shadowy aisles, its mouldering monuments, its dark oaken panneling, all reverend with the gloom of departed years, seemed to fit it for the haunt of solemn meditation.
2. A Sunday, too, in the country, is so holy in its repose; such a pensive quiet reigns over the face of nature, that every restless passion is charmed down, and we feel all the natural religion of the soul gently springing up within us :
“Sweet day, so pure, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky ! I do not pretend to be what is called a devout man, but there are feelings that visit me in a country church, amid the beautiful serenity of nature, which I experience nowhere else; and if not a more religious, I think I am a better man on Sunday, than on any other day of the seven.
3. But in this church I felt myself continually thrown back upon the world, by the frigidity and pomp of the poor worms around me. The only being that seemed thoroughly to feel the humble and prostrate piety of a true Christian, was a poor decrepito old woman, bending under the weight of years and mfirmities.-She bore the traces of something better than abject poverty. The lingerings of decent pride were visible in her appearance. Her dress, though humble in the extreme, was scrupulously clean.
4. Some trivial respect, too, had been awarded her; for she did not take her seat among the village poor, but sat alone on the steps of the altar. She seemed to have survived all lové, all friendship, all society; and to have nothing left her but the hopes of heaven. When I saw her feebly rising, and bending her aged form in prayer,—habitually conning her prayer-book, which her palsied hand and failing eyes would not permit her to read, but which she evidently knew by heart, -I felt persuaded that the faultering voice of that poor woman, arose to Heaven far before the responses of the clerk, the swell of the organ, or the chanting of the choir.
5. I am fond of loitering about country churches, and this was so delightfully situated, that it frequently attracted me. It stood on a knoll, around which a stream made a beautiful bend, and then wound its way through a long reach of soft meadow scenery. The church was surrounded by yew trees, which seemed almost coevale with itself. Its tall Gothic spire shot up lightly from among them, with rooks and crows generally wheeling about it. a Frig'-id-i-ty, coldness.
d Choir, pron. Quire, a holy of singen • De-crep-it, worn by age.
e Co-e'-val, of the same age. • Con'-ning, fixing in the mind.
6. I was seated there one still, sunny morning, watching two laborers who were digging a grave.—They had chosen one of the most remote and neglected corners of the churchyard, where, from the number of nameless graves around, it would appear that the indigent and friendless were huddled into the earth. I was told that the new-made grave was for the only son of a poor widow.
7. While I was meditating on the distinctions of worldly rank, which extend thus down into the very dust, the toll of the bell announced the approach of the funeral. They were the obsequiesa of poverty, with which pride had nothing to do. A coffin of the plainest materials, without pall or other covering, was borne by some of the villagers. The sextonbo walked before with an air of cold indifference.
8. There were no mock mourners in the trappings of affected wo; but there was one real mourner, who feebly tottered after the corpse. It was the aged mother of the deceased -the poor old woman whom I had seen seated on the steps of the altar. She was supported by an humble friend, who was endeavoring to comfort her. A few of the neighboring poor had joined the train, and some children of the village were running, hand in hand, now shouting with unthinking mirth, and now pausing to gaze, with childish curiosity, on the grief of the mourner.
9. As the funeral train approached the grave, the parson issued from the church porch, arrayed in the surplice, with prayer-book in hand, and attended by the clerk. The service, however, was a mere act of charity. The deceased had been destitute, and the survivor was pennyless. It was shuffled through, therefore, in form, but coldly and unfeelingly The well-fed priest moved but a few steps from the churchdoor ; his voice could scarcely be heard at the grave; and never did I hear the funeral service, that sublime and touching ceremony, turned into such a frigid mummery of words.
10. I approached the grave. The coffin was placed on the ground. On it were inscribed the name and age of the deceased—“George Somers, aged 26 years." The poor mother had been assisted to kneel down at the head of it. Her withered hands were clasped, as if in prayer; but I could perceive, by a feeble rocking of the body, and a convulsive motion of the lips, that she was gazing on the last relics of her son, with the yearnings of a mother's heart.
11. The service being ended, preparations were made to deposit the coffin in the earth. There was that bustling stir a Ob'-se-quies, funeral solemnities. c Sur'-plice, a garment for clergymen. b Sex'-ton, one whose business is to dig