IT was when the heats of noon died gradually away from the earth, that Glaucus and Ione went to enjoy the cooled and grateful air. At that time, various carriages were in use among the Romans; the one most used by the richer citizens, when they required no companion in their excursion, was the biga, already described in the early portion of this work; that appropriated to the matrons, was termed carpentum, which had commonly two wheels; the ancients used also a sort of litter, a vast sedan-chair, more arranged than the modern, inasmuch as the occupant thereof could lie down at ease, instead of being and stiffly jostled up and down. There was another carriage, used both for travelling and for excursions in the country; it was , containing three or four persons with ease, having a covering which could be raised at pleasure; and, in short, answering very much the purpose of (though very different in shape from) the modern britska. It was a vehicle of this description that the lovers, accompanied by one female slave of Ione, now used in their excursion. About ten miles from the city, there was at that day an old ruin, the of a temple, evidently Grecian; and as for Glaucus and Ione everything Grecian an interest, they had agreed to visit these ruins: it was they were now bound.  
Their road lay among vines and olive-groves; till, more and more towards the higher ground of Vesuvius, the path grew ; the moved slowly, and with ; and at every opening in the wood they those grey and horrent the rock, which Strabo has described; but which the various revolutions of time and the volcano have removed from the present aspect of the mountain. The sun, sloping towards his descent, cast long and deep shadows over the mountain; here and there they still heard the reed of the shepherd amongst copses of the beechwood and wild oak. Sometimes they marked the form of the silk-haired and capella, with its wreathing horn and bright grey eye—which, still beneath Ausonian skies, recalls the eclogues of Maro, half-way up the hills; and the grapes, already purple with the smiles of the deepening summer, glowed out from the arched festoons, which hung pendent from tree to tree. Above them, light clouds floated in the heavens, so slowly athwart the that they scarcely seemed to stir; while, on their right, they caught, ever and anon, glimpses of the waveless sea, with some light bark skimming its surface; and the sunlight breaking over the deep in those and softest so to that delicious sea.
 
'How beautiful!' said Glaucus, in a half-whispered tone, 'is that expression by which we call Earth our Mother! With what a equal love she pours her upon her children! and even to those spots to which Nature has denied beauty, she yet to her smiles: witness the arbutus and the vine, which she wreathes over the and burning soil of yon extinct volcano. Ah! in such an hour and scene as this, well might we imagine that the Faun should peep forth from those green festoons; or, that we might trace the steps of the Mountain Nymph through the thickest of the . But the Nymphs ceased, beautiful Ione, when thou wert created!'
 
There is no tongue that flatters like a lover's; and yet, in the exaggeration of his feelings, flattery seems to him commonplace. Strange and , which soon exhausts itself by !
 
They arrived at the ruins; they examined them with that fondness with which we trace the hallowed and household of our own ancestry—they lingered there till Hesperus appeared in the heavens; and then returning homeward in the , they were more silent than they had been; for in the shadow and beneath the stars they felt more oppressively their love.
 
It was at this time that the storm which the Egyptian had predicted began to creep visibly over them. At first, a low and distant thunder gave warning of the approaching conflict of the elements; and then rapidly rushed above the dark ranks of the clouds. The suddenness of storms in that climate is something almost preternatural, and might well suggest to early the notion of a divine agency—a few large drops broke heavily among the that half overhung their path, and then, swift and intolerably bright, the forked lightning across their very eyes, and was swallowed up by the increasing darkness.
 
'Swifter, good Carrucarius!' cried Glaucus to the driver; 'the tempest comes on apace.'
 
The slave urged on the mules—they went swift over the and road—the clouds thickened, near and more near broke the thunder, and fast rushed the dashing rain.
 
'Dost thou fear?' whispered Glaucus, as he sought excuse in the storm to come nearer to Ione.
 
'Not with thee,' said she, softly.
 
At that instant, the carriage, fragile and ill-contrived (as, despite their graceful shapes, were, for practical uses, most of such inventions at that time), struck violently into a deep rut, over which lay a log of fallen wood; the driver, with a curse, his mules yet faster for the obstacle, the wheel was torn from the , and the carriage suddenly overset.
 
Glaucus, quickly himself from the vehicle, hastened to assist Ione, who was fortunately unhurt; with some difficulty they raised the carruca (or carriage), and found that it ceased any longer even to afford them shelter; the springs that fastened the covering were snapped , and the rain poured fast and fiercely into the interior.
 
In this , what was to be done? They were yet some distance from the city—no house, no aid, seemed near.
 
'There is,' said the slave, 'a smith about a mile off; I could seek him, and he might fasten at least the wheel to the carruca—but, Jupiter! how the rain beats; my mistress will be wet before I come back.'
 
'Run thither at least,' said Glaucus; 'we must find the best shelter we can till you return.'
 
The lane was overshadowed with trees, beneath the amplest of which Glaucus drew Ione. He endeavored, by stripping his own cloak, to shield her yet more from the rapid rain; but it with a fury that broke through all obstacles: and suddenly, while Glaucus was yet whispering courage to his beautiful charge, the lightning struck one of the trees immediately before them, and split with a crash its huge trunk in twain. This awful incident them of the danger they braved in their present shelter, and Glaucus looked anxiously round for some less place of refuge. 'We are now,' said he, 'half-way up the of Vesuvius; there ought to be some , or hollow in the vine-clad rocks, could we but find it, in which the deserting Nymphs have left a shelter.' While thus saying he moved from the trees, and, looking wistfully towards the mountain, discovered through the advancing gloom a red and tremulous light at no considerable distance. 'That must come,' said he, 'from the of some shepherd or vine-dresser—it will guide us to some retreat. thou stay here, while I—yet no—that would be to leave thee to danger.'
 
'I will go with you cheerfully,' said Ione. 'Open as the space seems, it is better than the shelter of these boughs.'
 
Half leading, half carrying Ione, Glaucus, accompanied by the trembling female slave, advanced towards the light, which yet burned red and . At length the space was no longer open; wild vines their steps, and hid from them, save by imperfect , the guiding beam. But faster and fiercer came the rain, and the lightning assumed its most deadly and blasting form; they were still therefore, , hoping, at last, if the light them, to arrive at some cottage or some friendly cavern. The vines grew more and more intricate—the light was snatched from them; but a narrow path, which they trod with labor and pain, guided only by the constant and long-lingering flashes of the storm, continued to lead them towards its direction. The rain ceased suddenly; precipitous and rough crags of frowned before them, rendered more fearful by the lightning that illumined the dark and dangerous soil. Sometimes the blaze lingered over the iron-grey heaps of scoria, covered in part with ancient or trees, as if seeking in vain for some gentler product of earth, more of its ire; and sometimes leaving the whole of that part of the scene in darkness, the lightning, broad and sheeted, hung redly over the ocean, tossing far below, until its waves seemed glowing into fire; and so intense was the blaze, that it brought into view even the sharp outline of the more distant of the bay, from the eternal Misenum, with its lofty brow, to the beautiful Sorrentum and the giant hills behind.
 
Our lovers stopped in perplexity and doubt, when suddenly, as the darkness that gloomed between the fierce flashes of lightning once more wrapped them round, they saw near, but high, before them, the mysterious light. Another blaze, in which heaven and earth were reddened, made visible to them the whole expanse; no house was near, but just where they had beheld the light, they thought they saw in the of the cavern the outline of a human form. The darkness once more returned; the light, no longer paled beneath the fires of heaven, burned forth again: they resolved to towards it; they had to wind their way among vast fragments of stone, here and there overhung with wild bushes; but they gained nearer and nearer to the light, and at length they stood opposite the mouth of a kind of cavern, formed by huge splinters of rock that had fallen transversely athwart each other: and, looking into the gloom, each drew back involuntarily with a fear and chill.
 
A fire burned in the far recess of the cave; and over it was a small cauldron; on a tall and thin column of iron stood a rude lamp; over that part of the wall, at the base of which burned the fire, hung in many rows, as if to dry, a of herbs and weeds. A fox, couched before the fire, gazed upon the strangers with its bright and red eye—its hair bristling—and a low stealing from between its teeth; in the centre of the cave was an earthen statue, which had three heads of a singular and fantastic cast: they were formed by the real of a dog, a horse, and a boar; a low tripod stood before this wild representation of the popular Hecate.
 
But it was not these and appliances of the cave that thrilled the blood of those who gazed fearfully therein—it was the face of its . Before the fire, with the light shining full upon her features, sat a woman of considerable age. Perhaps in no country are there seen so many hags as in Italy—in no country does beauty so change, in age, to the most and revolting. But the old woman now before them was not one of these of the extreme of human ugliness; on the contrary, her betrayed the remains of a regular but high and order of feature: with stony eyes turned upon them—with a look that met and fascinated theirs—they beheld in that fearful countenance the very image of a !—the same, the and regard, the blue and shrunken lips, the and hollow jaw—the dead, hair, of a pale g............