--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Adams, John Q. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 15 number: 7 published: 1912-05 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'John Q. Adams, "A Peep into the Depths of Mother Earth," *Improvement Era* 15, no. 7 (May 1912): 600–607.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1507unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera1507unse start_page: 600 end_page: 607 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1912-05) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1507unse publication_year: 1912 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1912, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # A Peep into the Depths of Mother Earth A Peep into the Depths of Mother Earth BY JOHN Q. ADAMS, LATE MISSIONARY TO SAMOA [The author of this sketch, who has heretofore contributed several interesting articles to the Era, calls the attention of the editors to the fact that while recently doing missionary work in the Samoan Islands, occasion presented itself for him to visit the largest active volcano in the world, said to be such by globe-trotters, who speak from experience. He says: "It has within the past six months practically ceased its activity, but was an impressive spectacle during the five years that it belched forth its fiery breath. Its story has as yet been barely more than incidentally mentioned, in passing current literature. Hence, believing a descriptive article dealing with its grandeur, as some of us were privileged to view it, might appeal to the reading public, I submit it to you with some rare views obtained by a professional photographer." We believe our readers will be highly interested in the rare pictures and this descriptive article which the author has copied from his journal. — Editors.] Approaching a real, live volcano of such magnificent proportions as to be classed as the "world's greatest !" Yes, it is an imminent possibility, and I enter into this chapter of my diary with no uncertain anticipation, but with a live, expectant vim and quickened pulse. As the distance yet remaining approximates forty miles, we left the village of Iva early this morning, choosing the trail along the beach in preference to the boat, in order that we might sleep tonight on the borders of the lava. But little need be said of the walk thither, until about 4 p.m., as we simply stepped off some twenty-five miles, up to that hour, of ordinary Samoan scenery. Leaving the wilderness now, which we had traversed for ten or more miles, we suddenly emerged upon a broad expanse of jet black rock which even to a blind man would tell an audible tale of exceedingly recent formation. Almost as soon as we were upon it, the depth could be computed at anywhere from fifty feet downward. What an appealing, impressive aspect! As one walks along, the thought that first strikes his now keen perceptive IN THE DEPTHS OF MOTHER EARTH 601 sense is that of comparison and contrast. Why not call this vast stretch of black, new lava an ice field? Aside from its temperature and color which, being exactly opposite to those of ice, form the fine contrast, there is yet the c niipariscn of its form; lion and effect in walking upon it. It gives forth a crunching, grinding sound, exactly as a l:ard, snow road does on a very cold, frosty night. The manner in which blocks of every conceivable size and shape are heaved into* various positions brings to mind a broken-up ice floe of the Arctic regions. One cake may rest flat, with the next reared on its extreme edge, at an angle of 90 deSPIRE AND GABLE OK BURIED CHURCH This is one of the greatest freak sights on earth. Only last year the active volcano in the island of Savaii, Samoa, covered a whole village. This view is of a Catholic Church buried twenty feet under molten lava, now cold, with only the gable end and bell tower visible. The people of that village all migrated in a body to Upola and started a new village. The elders in the picture are, beginning at the left: Prest. Moody, Elder Woodland, and the secretary, McArthur. grees, with all intervening angles and slants taken by the thick crust which has certainly undergone some powerful convulsions in the course of flowing, cooling and accumulating and exploding gas. Two immense cones especially claim one's attention as he approaches them. They are close together, and each perhaps twenty-five feet in height, and circular, the jagged edges proclaiming a horribly broken-up interior. Nor is one disappointed in mounting them, for the way in which the rough, varied sized and shaped blocks, cakes, cubes and fragments are piled up in one grand, confused heap, is a sight never to be forgotten. The one idea that pervades the spectator's mind is: "How could sufficient power be concentrated in so limited a space?" for the diameter is about three hundred feet. It would be difficult to even estimate the requisite number of tons of dynamite to ac- '-L1 IMPROVEMENT ERA complish the same great result, hence we pass it up as beyond our computations. Now we are drawing near a something that we feel has a tale to tell to the interested observer. It is the spire of a cement church that not more than six years since served as a place of worship for a race of people. But now, well with the entire body of the large building buried completely, this one spire protrudes some ten or fifteen feet, and is more of an eloquent speaker than many a tongue, for its history is printed on a page as new and distant as if but of yesterday's origin. Pompeii, Hurculaneum, Lealatele: what an interesting chapter they furnish to one, depicting the fate of hives of humanity which were suddenly and irresistibly placed many feet in the stony bosom of mother earth. In this more recent calamity it was but a couple of native villages that suffered annihilation, and, as far as known, no lives were lost, but their fate as human dwelling places is linked with that of those well-known victims of grim old Vesuvius. The great monster which poured forth his molten flow upon these islanders is not even blessed with a name, but the significant mauga mu of the natives, meaning "burning mountain," is an apt appellation. With what terror did they helplessly view its rapid, resistlessly devastating onward march, until it had passed over their cement churches, burned their thatched homes, annihilated their cocoanut and banana patches, and driven them from the scene where for hundreds of years their ancestors had dwelt, to eventually see it all covered, excepting the protruding spires, gable ends, and top edges of the walls of ten cement churches and houses of respected missionaries, for that is the number of such we counted in our wandering over the lava fields. BURIED CHURCH AMIDST SUPREME DESOLATION LAVA FIELD, SMOKING AND STEAMING We now sheer off towards the coast, picking our way over the rough, sharp surface, for we have already learned that to touch without caution means a gash, and we sympathize with the grinding our poor shoes are getting. At intervals we are fearfully aware of the ominous sound our footfalls produce as we walk over some unseen vacuum, covered over with a thin layer of brittle lava. There are yawning gaps, and cracks and crevices where the lava has parted asunder, in cooling and settling. About half way across the six mile expanse the most ticklish sensations begin chasing each other up and down one's spine, and for the following cause: there is one special distinguishing feature that places this volcano in a class by itself, and that is this : from its inland situation of ten or more miles, it is connected with the sea by a vast subterranean passage down which flows a molten stream, never to be seen until it emerges, sputtering, into the surf. It cannot be so many feet below the surface, as its course is easily traced the entire distance by the smoke and steam which constantly arise. In two or three places a little dull-red, molten rock finds its way up to be seen for a quar- 604 IMPROVEMENT ERA ter of a mile in broad day-light. Of course we make directly for the outlet where it encounters the sea. The peculiar column of steam that rises can be distinguished from the distant island of Upolu. The cold lava rock extends for six miles along the coast, and ends abruptly at the water's edge in a perpendicular, high cliff. The jutting-point, where the red-hot, melted rock flows into the sea, is perhaps one hundred feet wide, and along its face the stuff emerges from its ten-mile underground trip in a bright red paste, about like thick molasses candy, and drops into the water with a hissing, sputtering sound. As each big wave comes rolling over it, the onlooker feels sure it will be drowned out, but molten rock is not so easily vanquished, and even after being completely covered with water for a few seconds it remains red-hot for a time. As a huge mass accumulates and becomes partly cool, it naturally breaks off and goes plunging down, gasping and sizzling until submerged. Then it continues to be heard from, for it explodes with rapid, dull reports, like a rapid-fire gun. The water is sent into the air like a geyser and also great quantities r of cooled particles of black lava, forming a spectacle that is simply superb. The water is hot for rods and affects the paint on boats approaching too closely. The coast is being slowly but surely extended seaward as the rock encroaches upon the water's domain, but in the untold ages to come, the angry sea will come thundering against it, gradually undermining, disintegrating and grinding it up, forming a beach where the vegetable world will regain a foothold. Thus is nature's law of compensation nicely illustrated. (See frontispiece.) After drinking in the view for hours, we quite reluctantly ONLY ONE OF COUNTLESS FISSURES IN THE LAVA IN THE DEPTHS OF MOTHER EARTH 605 turn our backs upon it, and make for the village of Matautu. We can discern the smoking outline of the crater ten miles away, and between it and us is a blackened field of supreme desolation, smoking and steaming its entire course. The edge of the lava is fringed by a dense, tropical wilderness, but it, too, seems to have become tired of life, for the trees stand gaunt and spectrelike, without a leaf, and dried to a tinder. The deadly fumes of sulphur and the intense heat were too much for the vegetable world. Without further comment we are now at the crater. Its elevation is not so great, perhaps fifteen hundred feet above sea level, and we are soon in close proximity to the jagged cone in SPECTRE FOREST, LEAFLESS AND LIFELESS, FRINGING LAVA FLOW. whose interior we feel there is something that will repay us for our exertion. It is not high, perhaps one hundred feet, and we skirt its base to where a banana-leaf house has been erected for a resting place. After disposing of such preliminary incidents as supper, etc., we are now ready and eager for the initial peep into the bowels of the earth. Darkness fails to appear hereabouts, for all our surroundings are enveloped in a mellow, suffused glow that proceeds from below. Carefully we pick our way over the rough, intervening space, the way being pretty well illuminated 606 IMPROVEMENT ERA by the lurid, red sheet of light sent high into the sky above the crater. The last few rods of steep ascent are negotiated, and, — well, the scene that bursts upon our view is something to pause before, and to absorb, with all the intentness of which our eyes are capable. The one distinct idea that instantly fastens itself upon one's mind is the grand immensity and magnitude of it all. Imagine, if you can, a huge vault whose perpendicular, irregular, jagged sides lead down to a five hundred foot depth and whose length is, as near as one can estimate, one thousand feet at least, with a width nearly as great. The floor is composed of a restYAWNING MOUTH OF THE CRATER The asterisk indicates exact spot from which the volcano was viewed by the writer. less substance which one can see at a glance is molten rock, whitehot in places, red-hot in others. Being liquid from one end to the other it is as level as water, excepting in one place, nearly under us, where we see the source of it all, a bubbling, boiling, seething mass that is as a huge spring. At times it must boil and shoot up fifty feet and fall splashing and sizzling. In about half a dozen places it is seen flowing out into large caverns, the beginning of its subterranean passage to the sea. As it gets clogged occasionally it explodes, splashing up the sides in big red chunks, mush-like. Out on the center it is covered with a thick black IN THE DEPTHS OF MOTHER EARTH 607 crust of cooling lava which is cracked in great, irregular, sharp streaks, paralleling each other to the number of hundreds, and disclosing the red liquid beneath. They resemble nothing in the world as much as streaks of lightning, in fact they are exactly like them. Without cessation there is a peculiar roaring, humming, rushing, splashing pandemonium, the counterpart of a huge iron foundry, and one can almost see at times a resemblance to a gigantic forge. The strong fumes of sulphur come rushing up, mixed with smoke and steam; and if a gust of wind sends them our way, we are forced to drop on our stomachs at once, coughing, sneezing and gasping, for it is a choking gas, comparable only to the fumes of numberless matches. Remember, we are on the extreme edge of the thin overhanging crater's crust, and can see straight down. The bright unnatural light that fills the cavity, and shoots high into the air, is a grand spectacle. We cast large stones down, and their coming in contact with the bottom is unheard, so far is it, and so great the noise. As for a piece of tin sent sailing out over the great smoke stack, it doesn't even attempt to gravitate downward, but returns to the thrower like a boomerang. These brief notes were scratched off with a lead pencil while the legs of the writer dangled downwards over the pit of the infernal regions. What more apt comparison than that? There is the lake of fire and brimstone, the heat and the roar, and the bottomless pit ; everything, in fact, except the old gentleman with the pitchfork! No wonder the native Catholic minister made such an impressive appeal to his flock when they were visiting the crater. Standing on the edge, he pointed down and said : "Do you see that? Well, if you desire such an end just join the 'Mormons.' " In closing we shall add that we have now had a pretty good representation of the way scientists tell us the world began. We have gazed into the vast cauldron where nature is in the creative period, and have seen the world in its formative state, liquid, unsettled, immeasurably hot. With tingling nostrils, stinging throats, and oppressed lungs, we stand on the brink for a last, long, steady gaze into the under-world. As the writer attempts to put up his umbrella, the closing chapter occurs, for the hot,