A CAMP IN A CRATER. IgI 
The whole shore of the lake at the bottom of the 
crater is incrusted with sulphur, a gray and yellow 
rim lining the base of the cliffs that dip down, no 
one knows how deep, into the water of the basin. 
Around the shore are little caves, grottoes, and black 
openings to the many ravines that seam the side of 
the bowl. A little islet is formed on the eastern side 
—the “new-crater” side—by a detached rock, or: 
water-worn pinnacle from a submerged rocky base. 
In some of the ravines are scattered tree-ferns, stunted, 
to be sure, yet possessing grace.and beauty that the 
fern, especially the tree-fern, never loses. 
But how shall I describe that sheet of water 
slumbering in the bowels of the crater? It lies in the 
bottom of the bowl at least twelve hundred feet be- 
neath the brim, serene, unmoved, a lake beneath the 
power of the elements to ruffle. Clouds of mist sail 
over it, and are blown into the crater from the east- 
ward, but the fiercest gusts, and they are strong and 
frequent, cannot disturb that silent lake reposing 
in its bosom. Its hue is almost indescribable: pearl- 
green, creamy in hue yet with a decided greenish 
tint, opalescent with a tinge of the faintest aqua 
marine. Against gray cliffs, dark gorges and green 
moss, as it lies with its circling rim of golden sul- 
phur, it resembles a huge opal in setting of gold and 
emerald. 
In the apex of the southern hill bordering the crater, 
some one, long ago, hollowed out a place for shelter. 
It is only about ten feet across and in depth, and it is 
open on the northern side overlooking the lake, and, 
excepting a slight hollow, at the top, also; but it gives 
shelter from the keen, mist-laden winds of the Atlan- 
