ng several miles to the north of the
city, a mass of dark rock some four thousand feet high, with jagged
outline, and cleft with gorges and ravines, down which flow numerous
streams, gushing from the crater lake of the great volcano.

Though known to be a volcano, it was looked upon as practically extinct,
though as late as August, 1856, it had been in eruption. No lava at that
time came from its crater, but it hurled out great quantities of ashes
and mud, with strong sulphurous odor. Then it went to rest again, and
slept till 1902.

The people had long ceased to fear it. No one expected that grand old
Mount Pelee, the slumbering (so it was thought) tranquil old hill, would
ever spurt forth fire and death. This was entirely unlooked for. Mont
Pelee was regarded by the natives as a sort of protector; they had an
almost superstitious affection for it. From the outskirts of the city it
rose gradually, its sides grown thick with rich grass, and dotted here
and there with spreading shrubbery and drooping trees. There was
no pleasanter outing for an afternoon than a journey up the green,
velvet-like sides of the towering mountain and a view of the quaint,
picturesque city slumbering at its base.

A PEACEFUL SCENE

There were no rocky cliffs, no crags, no protruding boulders. The
mountain was peace itself. It seemed to promise perpetual protection.
The poetic natives relied upon it to keep back storms from the land and
frighten, with its stern brow, the tempests from the sea. They pointed
to it with profoundest pride as one of the most beautiful mountains in
the world.

Children played in its bowers and arbors; families picnicked there day
after day during the balmy weather; hundreds of tourists ascended to
the summit and looked with pleasure at the beautiful crystal lake
which sparkled and glinted in the sunshine. Mont Pelee was the place
of enjoyment of the people of St. Pierre. I can hear the placid natives
say: "Old Father Pelee is our protector--not our destroyer."

Not until two weeks before the eruption did the slumbering mountain
show signs of waking to death and disaster. On the 23d of April it first
displayed symptoms of internal disquiet. A great column of smoke began
to rise from it, and was accompanied from time to time by showers of
ashes and cinders.

Despite these signals, there was nothing until Monday, May 5th, to
indicate actual danger. On that day a stream of smoking mud and lava
burst through