Out of the scrub, when we were there, flew off two or three night- jars, very like our English species, save that they had white in the wings; and on the second visit, one of the midshipmen, true to the English boy's birds'-nesting instinct, found one of their eggs, white-spotted, in a grass nest.
Passing these little islands, which are said (I know not how truly) to change their places and number, we came to the very fountains of Styx, to that part of the lake where the asphalt is still oozing up.
As the wind set toward us, we soon became aware of an evil smell-- petroleum and sulphuretted hydrogen at once--which gave some of us a headache.

The pitch here is yellow and white with sulphur foam; so are the water-channels; and out of both water and pitch innumerable bubbles of gas arise, loathsome to the smell.

We became aware also that the pitch was soft under our feet.

We left the impression of our boots; and if we had stood still awhile, we should soon have been ankle-deep.

No doubt there are spots where, if a man stayed long enough, he would be slowly and horribly engulfed.