As at the commencement of our series we have given the pagan account of the creation of the world, so as we approach its conclusion we present a view of the regions of the dead, depicted by one of their most enlightened poets, who drew his doctrines from their most esteemed philosophers.  The region where Virgil locates the entrance to this abode is perhaps the most strikingly adapted to excite ideas of the terrific and preternatural of any on the face of the earth.  It is the volcanic region near Vesuvius, where the whole country is cleft with chasms, from which sulphurous flames arise, while the ground is shaken with pent-up vapors, and mysterious sounds issue from the bowels of the earth.  The lake Avernus is supposed to fill the crater of an extinct volcano.  It is circular, half a mile wide, and very deep, surrounded by high banks, which in Virgil’s time were covered with a gloomy forest.  Mephitic vapors rise from its waters, so that no life is found on its banks, and no birds fly over it.  Here, according to the poet, was the cave which afforded access to the infernal regions, and here Aeneas offered sacrifices to the infernal deities, Proserpine, Hecate, and the Furies.  Then a roaring was heard in the earth, the woods on the hill-tops were shaken, and the howling of dogs announced the approach of the deities.  “Now,” said the Sibyl, “summon up your courage, for you will need it.”  She descended into the cave, and Aeneas followed.  Before the threshold of hell they passed through a group of beings who are enumerated as Griefs and avenging Cares, pale Diseases and melancholy Age, Fear and Hunger that tempt to crime, Toil, Poverty, and Death,—­forms horrible to view.  The Furies spread their couches there, and Discord, whose hair was of vipers tied up with a bloody fillet.  Here also were the monsters, Briareus, with his hundred arms, Hydras hissing, and Chimaeras breathing fire.  Aeneas shuddered at the sight, drew his sword and would have struck, but the Sibyl restrained him.  They then came to the black river Cocytus, where they found the ferryman, Charon, old and squalid, but strong and vigorous, who was receiving passengers of all kinds into his boat, magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarried girls, as numerous as the leaves that fall at autumn, or the flocks that fly southward at the approach of winter.  They stood pressing for a passage and longing to touch the opposite shore.  But the stern ferryman took in only such as he chose, driving the rest back.  Aeneas, wondering at the sight, asked the Sibyl, “Why this discrimination?” She answered, “Those who are taken on board the bark are the souls of those who have received due burial rites; the host of others who have remained unburied are not permitted to pass the flood, but wander a hundred years, and flit to and fro about the shore, till at last they are taken over.”  Aeneas grieved at recollecting some of his own companions who had perished in the storm.  At that moment he beheld Palinurus, his pilot, who