renheit.
Seething and swashing like a troublous witches broth stirred by subterranean imps, with no visible outlet, its thick black liquid bubbling sometimes to a height of three or four feet, the bank near by begrimed like a chimney-back and just above blooming with beauti- ful sulphur crystals, Dante himself could not conceive a more perfect stygian pool. This black vapory pit has been called also the Devil's Punch Bowl. It is an insult to his Majesty, who knows full well how to brew good punch.
Every spring has its voice, its own peculiar strain ; its busy babble, or surly grumble, or hollow moan, or impotent sputter, or testy hiss, or angry roar, or wild shriek, its vain spoutmgs or gleesome gurgle, and throuo;hout the ao-es the infernal choir ceases not to deliver its united and discordant strains. But loud above all voices and high above all sounds are the puffmgs and roaring pulsations of the Steamboat Geyser, which sends from the hillside in several fitful volumes, through orifices from an inch to a foot in diameter, columns of hot vapor to heights of from 50 to 200 feet. The sounds of which the name is expressive, are like those proceeding from the escape pipe of an engine. The roar is continuous, though broken by puffs and louder bursts, while all around from tiny holes in the spongy ground jets of hot steam shoot upward, with a force and fury significant of the contending elements beneath the surface. Then there is the Intermittent Geyser, which belches boiling water spasmodically, sometimes fifteen feet and again only three or four feet; the Devil's Ink- stand, which emits through a small aperture a black liquid that may be used for writing, and whose stain is indelible; the Devil's Grist-mill with its sputtering clatter ; the Devil's Kitchen, the Devil's Bake-oven, the Devil's Wash-tub, the Devil's Tea-kettle, the Devil's Pulpit, and the devil knows what else. All along the banks of this Lethe stream, as you climb, fainting with the heat and smells, between slippery rocks and
