At  an  early  hour  one  morning,  I  started  from  a  cottage  at the  foot  of  the  mountain,  where  I  had  passed  the  night,  with  a firm  resolution  to  examine,  even  should  it  cost  me  my  life,  the interior  of  this  famous  volcano.  After  a  severe  climb  of  three hours,  I  reached  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  which  for  three weeks  had  been  rumbling  without  intermission.  I  presume that  you  know  Etna,  gentlemen,  by  the  numerous  descriptions that  have  been  written  of  it ;  I  therefore  will  not  attempt  to  say over  again  what  you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  and  I  will  spare  you a  tedious  story,  and  myself  a  deal  of  needless  fatigue.

I  walked  three  times  round  the  crater,  of  which  you  can form  some  idea  by  imagining  an  enormous  funnel  ;  but  perceiving that,  however  much  I  might  walk  round  and  round,  I  should  not advance  a  step  nearer  my  object,  I  formed  a  brave  resolution that  I  would  jump  in.  I  had no  sooner  taken  my  leap  than I  felt  as  though  I  had  plunged into  a  bath  of  boiling  vapour; while  the  glowing  embers  that were  flying  about  in  all  directions struck  at  my  poor  body, and  burnt  my  limbs  severely.

But  no  matter  how  violently the  burning  masses  flew about,  I  descended  more  rapidly  ( than  they  ascended — thanks  to the  laws  that  regulate  falling- bodies — and  in  a  few  moments I  touched  the  bottom.  The  first thing  I  was  aware  of  was  a  terrific noise — a  confused  sound  of oaths,  cries,  and  roars  mingled together,  that  seemed  to  rise up  in  all  directions  around  me. I  opened  my  eyes,  and  saw — what  do  you  think?  Vulcan  in person,  attended  by  his  Cyclops.

- Chapter 17