It was more sublime than Elijah's
appeal on the soft, green slopes of Carmel, but the popular belief
in the Goddess of the Volcano survived this flagrant instance of her
incapacity, and only died out many years afterwards.
Besides these interesting reminiscences, I have been hearing most
thrilling stories from Mrs. Lyman and Mr. Coan of volcanoes,
earthquakes, and tidal waves. Told by eye-witnesses, and on the
very spot where the incidents occurred, they make a profound, and, I
fear, an incommunicable impression. I look on these venerable
people as I should on people who had seen the Deluge, or the burial
of Pompeii, and wonder that they eat and dress and live like other
mortals! For they have felt the perpetual shudder of earthquakes,
and their eyes, which look so calm and kind, have seen the inflowing
of huge tidal waves, the dull red glow of lava streams, and the
leaping of fire cataracts into deep-lying pools, burning them dry in
a night time. There were years in which there was no day in which
the smoke of underground furnaces was out of their sight, or night
which was not lurid with flames. Once they traced a river of lava
burrowing its way 1500 feet below the surface, and saw it emerge,
break over a precipice, and fall hissing into the ocean.
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