ggs, and wine, and--best of
all--some snow, for the heat was intolerable. In a town of the same
size--15,657 inhabitants--in England, we should have at least two really
comfortable inns ready at any moment to receive and entertain the weary
traveller.

[Illustration: View of Etna from Bronte]

Aderno stands on the site, and has preserved the name, of the ancient
Sikelian city of Adranum (~Adranon~). According to Diodorus there
existed here, from very early times, the temple of a local deity named
Adranus. The city was founded by the elder Dionysius in 400 B.C.; it
owed its importance to the renown of its temple, which was guarded by a
thousand dogs. In 345 B.C. the city fell into the hands of Timoleon, and
it was taken by the Romans at the commencement of the first Punic War.
After this we cease to hear of it. The modern town was founded by Roger
I. in the 12th century. The fine Norman tower--now used as a prison--and
the monastery, were both built by King Roger.

After leaving Aderno the base-road ascends, turns nearly due north, and
leads us past a number of lava streams, notably those of 1610, 1603, and
1651. A good view of Monte Minardo, and the minor cones in its more
immediate neighbourhood, is obtained on the left, while on the right we
see the Valley of the Simeto, and Centorbi high upon the hills.

Nearly due west of the great crater is the town of Bronte, which is
2,782 feet above the sea, and has a population of more than 15,000. It
is a very primitive place, and several centuries behind the age; it
reminded us forcibly, in one or two particulars, of Pompeii: the streets
are narrow and tortuous, and the roadway very uneven. Awnings are
sometimes hung across the street from side to side to provide shade. The
shops are exactly like those at Pompeii; and in the main street we
noticed an open-air kitchen, to which the would-be diner repairs,
purchases a plateful of food, and eats it standing in the public way.
The inn was even worse than that of Aderno, and apparently had never
before received guests. We were offered one miserable room, without a
lock to the door, and unprovided with either table or chair. Of course
the bare idea of offering to procure, or furnish, or cook, any kind of
food was too monstrous to be entertained for a moment. With difficulty
the courier obtained some eggs, macaroni, and fruit, on which we dined
in a small barn attached to a wine-shop.

At Bronte we are only nine miles from the