We then walked to the hermitage in about an hour and a quarter, and arrived there with no other accident than having our shoes and stockings totally spoiled, our feet a little singed, the hands of Mr. R.D. severely burned and both begrimed with ashes like blacksmiths.  The ecclesiastic gave us a breakfast of coffee and eggs and a glass of Maraschino, and we gave him two scudi each.  Before we departed he presented to us his Album, which he usually does to all travellers, inviting them to write something.  I took up the pen and feeling a little inspiration wrote the following lines: 

  Anch’io salito son sul gran Vesuvio,
  Mentre cadsa di cineri un diluvio;
  Questo cammin mi piace d’aver fatto,
  Ma plu mi piace il ritornare intatto.

which pleased the old man very much to see a foreigner write Italian verse.  I pleased him still more by letting him know that I was an enthusiastic admirer and humble cultivator of the Tuscan Muse, and that having read and studied most of their poets, particularly il divino Ariosto, I now and then caught a scintilletta from his verse.  We now took a cordial farewell of our worthy old host, mounted our mules and descended the mountain.  On arrival at Portici we dismissed our guide Salvatore with a scudo pour boire, besides the stipulated price.  Salvatore asked me to give him a written certificate of his services, which he generally sollicits from all those whom he conducts to the Volcano.  I asked him for his certificate book, and begged to know whether he would have it in prose or verse.  He laughed and said:  Vostra Excellenza e padrone.  I took out my pencil and wrote the following quatrain: 

  Dal monte ignivomo tornati siam stanchissimi,
  E del buon Salvator siam tutti contentissimi;
  Felice il pellogrin che a Salvator si fida,
  Che di lui non si puo trovare un miglior guida.

I never saw any body so delighted as Salvatore appeared when I read to him what I had written in his book.

I have another observation to make before I take leave of this celebrated mountain, which is, that the liquid lava which it ejects is far more dangerous and destructive than the eruption of stones and ashes; the lava flows from the flanks of the mountain in a liquid stream.  Sometimes there will be an eruption and no lava flowing:  at other tunes the lava flows from the flanks of the mountain, without any eruption from the crater; at other times, and then it is most alarming, the eruption takes place accompanied by the flowing of the lava.  All this demonstrates that the volcano is the effect of the efforts of the subterraneous fire to get some vent and escape from its confinement.  This time I did not observe any lava flowing, except a slight vein of it on the spot where Mr R.D. fell down and burned his hands; but it is easy to observe on the side of the mountain the course and route taken at different times by the lava, which has become hardened and is very plainly to be distinguished, as it resembles a river (if I may use the word) of slate meandering between the green sward of the mountain and descending toward the sea.  You can plainly distinguish the course and direction of the lava which destroyed part of Torre del Greco and swept it into the sea.