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of oxygen in the atmosphere above. Long before they reached the above surprising height, they had been abandoned by their guides, the Indians, who had taken alarm, and were fearful of their lives. So great was the fall of snow on their return, that they could scarcely recognize each other, and they all suffered dreadfully from the intenseness of the cold.

A great number of Spaniards formerly perished in crossing the vast and dangerous deserts which lie on the. declivity of Chimborazo; being now, however, better acquainted with them, such misfortunes seldom occur, especially as very few take this route, unless there be a prospect of calm and serene weather.

COTOPAXI.

[See Plate, No. 5.]

THIS mountain is the loftiest of those volcanoes of the Andes which, at recent epochs, have undergone eruptions. Notwithstanding it lies near the Equator, its summits are covered with perpetual snows. The absolute height of Cotopaxi, is 18,876 feet, or three miles and a half, consequently it is 2,622 feet, or half a mile, higher than Vesuvius would be, were that mountain placed on the top of the Peak of Teneriffe! Cotopaxi is the most mischievous of the volcanoes in the kingdom of Quito, and its explosions are the most frequent and disastrous. The masses of scorice, and the pieces of rock, thrown out of this volcano, cover a surface of several square leagues, and would form, were they heaped together, a prodigious mountain. Iu 1738, the flames of Cotopaxi rose 3000 feet, or upwards of half a mile, above the brink of the crater. In 1744, the roarings of this volcano were heard at the distance of six hundred miles. On the 4th of April, 1768, the quantity of ashes ejected at the mouth of Cotopaxi was so great, that it was dark till three in the afternoon. The explosion which took place in 1803, was preceded by the sudden melting of the snows which covered the mountain. For twenty years before no smoke or vapour, that could be perceived, had issued from the crater; but in a single night the subterraneous fires became so active, that at sun-rise the external walls of the cone, heated to a very considerable temperature, appeared naked, and of the dark colour

which is peculiar to vitrified scoriæ. "At the port of Guayquil," observes Humboldt, "fifty-two leagues distant in a strait line from the crater, we heard, day and night, the noise of this volcano, like continued discharges of a battery; and we distinguished these tremendous sounds even on the Pacific Ocean."

The form of Cotopaxi is the most beautiful and regular of the colossal summits of the high Andes. It is a perfect cone, which, covered with a perpetual layer of snow, shines with dazzling splendour at the setting of the sun, and detaches itself in the most picturesque manner from the azure vault above. This covering of snow conceals from the eye of the observer even the smallest inequalities of the soil; no point of rock, no stony mass, penetrating this coat of ice, or breaking the regularity of the figure of the cone.

PICHINCHA.

THOUGH celebrated for its great height, Pichincha is 3,849 feet, or three-fourths of a mile, lower than the perpendicular elevation of Cotopaxi. It was formerly a volcano; but the mouth or crater on one of its sides is now covered with sand or calcined matter, so that at present neither smoke nor ashes issue from it.

When it was ascended by Don George Juan and Don Antonio de Ulloa, for the purpose of their astronomical observations, they found the cold on the top of this mountain extremely intense, the wind very violent, and the fog, or, in other words, the cloud, so thick, that objects at the listance of six or eight paces were scarcely discernible. On the air becoming clear, by the clouds descending nearer the earth, in such a manner as to surround the mountain on all sides to a vast distance, these clouds afforded a lively representation of the sea, in which the top of the mountain seemed to stand, like an island in the centre.

With aspect mild, and elevated eye,
Behold him seated on a mount serene,
Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm:
All the black cares and tumults of this life,
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet,
Excite his pity, not impair his peace.

YOUNG

When the clouds descended, the astronomers heard the dreadful noise of tempests, which discharged themselves from them on the adjacent country. They saw the lightning issue from the clouds, and heard the thunder roll far beneath them. While the lower parts were thus involved in tempests of thunder and rain, they enjoyed a delightful serenity; the wind abated, the sky cleared, and the enlivening rays of the sun moderated the severity of the cold. But when the clouds rose, their density rendered respiration difficult: snow and hail fell continually, and the winds returned with such violence, that it was impossible to overcome the fear of being blown down the precipices, or of being buried by the accumulation of ice and snow, or by the enormous fragments of rocks which rolled around them. Every crevice in their hut was stopped, and, though the hut was small, was crowded with inhabitants, and several lamps were constantly burning, the cold was so great, that each individual was obliged to have a chafing-dish of coals, and several men were employed every morning in removing the snow which had fallen during the night. Their feet were swollen, and they became so tender and sensible, that walking was attended with extreme pain; their hands also were covered with chilblains, and their lips were so swollen and chapped, that every motion in speaking brought blood.

MOUNT ETNA,

IN THE ISLAND OF SICILY.

[See Plates, No. 6, 7, 8, 9.]

Now under sulphurious Cuma's sea-bound coast,
And vast Sicilia, lies the shaggy breast

Of snowy Etna, nurse of endless frost,

The pillared prop of heaven, for ever pressed:
Forth from whose sulph'rous caverns issuing rise
Pure liquid fountains of tempestuous fire,
Which veil in ruddy mists the noon-day skies,

While wrapt in smoke the eddying flames aspire,
Or gleaming through the night with hideous roar,
Far o'er the redd'ning main huge rocky fragments pour:

But he, Vulcanian monster, to the clouds

The fiercest, hottest inundations throws,

While, with the burthen of incumbent woods,
And Etna's gloomy cliffs o'erwhelmed he glows.

There on his flinty bed outstretch'd he lies,
Whose pointed rock his tossing carcase wounds :
There with dismay he strikes beholding eyes,

Or frights the distant ear with horrid sounds.

WEST.

THE majestic Etna, which the ancients considered, not unreasonably, as one of the highest mountains in the world, and on the summit of which they believed that Deucalion and Pyrrha sought refuge, to save themselves from the universal deluge, is situated on the plain of Catania, in Sicily.

Its elevation above the level of the sea has been estimated at 10,963 feet, upwards of two miles. On clear days it is distinctly seen from Valetta, the capital of Malta, a distance of 150 miles. It is incomparably the largest burning mountain in Europe. From its sides other mountains arise, which, in different ages, have been ejected in single masses from its enormous crater. The most extensive lavas of Vesuvius do not exceed seven miles in length, while those of Etna extend to fifteen, twenty, and some even to thirty miles. The crater of Etna is seldom less than a mile in circuit, and sometimes is two or three miles ; but the circumference of the Vesuvian crater is never more than half a mile, even when widely distended, in its most destructive conflagrations. Lastly, the earthquakes occasioned by these adjacent volcanoes, their eruptions, their showers of ignited stones, and the destruction and desolation which they create, are severally proportionate to their respective dimensions.

A journey up Etna is considered as an enterprise of importance, as well from the difficulty of the route, as from the distance, it being thirty miles from Catania to the summit of the mountain. Its gigantic bulk, its sublime elevation, and the extensive, varied, and grand prospects which are presented from its summit, have, however, induced the curious in every age to ascend and examine it ; and not a few have transmitted, through the press, the observations which they have made during their arduous journey.From its vast base it rises like a pyramid to the perpendicular height of two miles, by an acclivity nearly equal on all sides, forming with the horizon an angle of about fifteen degrees, which becomes greater on approaching

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