26 NATURE-STUDY REVIEW [16:1— Jan., 1920 



turbance, everything tends downward. At each step the climber 

 is made to feel the same downward pull and he begins to realize 

 that the attraction of gravity is no laughing matter. So it was 

 with great difficulty and with considerable expenditure of energy 

 that I at last reached the ultimate triumph, the rim of the crater. 



The first impression is intense surprise. The expected 'hole 

 in the ground' turns out to be, not only deeper than the anticipa- 

 tion warranted, but of a different order of magnitude. Here is a 

 place where one begins to feel vaguely as if in outer space with 

 no friendly earth to comfort and sustain. I gazed into a seething, 

 abysmal hole fifteen hundred feet deep with vertical, and in many 

 places, overhanging walls. The sides were continually breaking 

 away and falling like avalanches with a hollow rumble to the bot- 

 tom. The edge was so sharp and so ready to fall inward, that only 

 here and there did I dare look over into the crater. The storm 

 clouds still clinging to the summit combined with steam from with- 

 in the crater to give a weird ghostly feeling to everything. 



The plentiful steam jets which permeated the ground even 

 at this height, though somewhat of a puzzle, were convenient as 

 hand warmers. The sun gradually dispersed the clouds and the 

 strong wind occasionally cleared the crater from the all obscuring 

 steam. Free to enjoy raw nattire, I scrambled along the edge of 

 the crater from the north around to the southeast, then by compass 

 struck direct for Pompeii. 



Whatever the geologists may eventually agree upon as the cause 

 of active volcanoes, the fact remains, that nothing of a terrestrial 

 nature can compete with their savage charm in inspiring terror in 

 the himian mind, but to get the full effect you must commune 

 alone and at night, with the savage glowing heart of nature. 



The Birth of the Yew Berry 



Eva Marian Provost 



A berry red o'er the brookside bent 



Telling it? radiant tale, 

 How light and shade a tapestry made 



For its spirit shy and frail, 

 How sweet companion was the moss, 



How soft the breezes swayed, 

 Till birds brought back their vistaed songs 



And flowerets debut made. 



