ocolate-creams to let you know that he
is sorry."

"So we will, dear," said Mollie, tucking Helena's head under her chin.
"You were always wiser than your mother, child."

THE LARGEST VOLCANO IN THE WORLD

BY SARAH COAN.

[Illustration: THE LAKE OF FIRE.]

"Why, it isn't on the top of a mountain at all! What a humbug my
geography must have been!"

So wrote a little fellow to a young friend in America.

He was right. It isn't on the top of a mountain, though the
geographies do say, "A volcano is a mountain sending forth fire, smoke
and lava," and give the picture of a mountain smoking at the top.

This volcano is nothing of the kind; but is a hideous, yawning black
pit at the bottom of a mountain, and big enough to stow away a large
city.

Of course you want to know, first, where this wonder is. Get out the
map of the Western Hemisphere, put your finger on any of the lines
running north and south, through North America, and called meridians;
follow it south until you come to the Tropic of Cancer, running east
and west; then "left-about-face!" and, following the tropic, sail out
into the calm Pacific. After a voyage of about two thousand miles,
you'll run ashore on one of a group of islands marked Sandwich. We
will call them Hawaiian, for that is their true name. Not one of the
brown, native inhabitants would call them "Sandwich." An English
sailor gave them that name, out of compliment to a certain Lord
Sandwich.

On the largest of these islands, Hawaii--pronounced "Ha-y-e"--is the
volcano, Kilauea, the largest volcano in the world.

We have seen it a great many times, and that you may see it as clearly
as possible, you shall have a letter from the very spot. The letter
reads:

"Here we are, a large party of us, looking into Kilauea, which is
nine miles in circumference, and a thousand feet below us--a pit
about seven times as deep as Niagara Falls are high. We came
to-day, on horseback, from Hilo, a ride of thirty miles. Hilo is a
beautiful sea-shore village, the largest on the island of Hawaii,
and from it all visitors to Kilauea make their start.

"The road over which we came is nothing but a bridle-path, and a
very rough one at that, traversing miles and miles of old lava
flows. We had almost ridden to the crater's brink before we
discovered, in the dim twilight, the awful abyss.

"Before us is the immense pit which, in the day-time, sho