Towards the east from Sicily, at 12 miles distance, there is an island
in the great sea, in which day and night mount Vulcan gives forth a
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sort of thunder, with such vehemence that one would think the land of
Sicily (which is situated a considerable distance away) was being shaken
by a terrific earthquake. But it seems to thunder more on Friday and
Saturday. One notices that all the time at night it is blazing, whereas
during the day it smokes. Arculf dictated these things to me about the
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mountain, while I wrote. He beheld it with the sight of his own eyes,
fiery by night and smoky by day, and with the hearing of his own ears
he heard its thunderous noise when he was lodged for some days in
Sicily.
I beseech then those who will read these brief books to implore divine
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mercy for the holy priest Arculf, who being a frequenter of the holy
places, most willingly dictated to us his experiences of them. And I
have set them forth, albeit in a lowly style, though daily beset by laborious
and almost insupportable ecclesiastical business from every quarter.
Thus I admonish the reader of these experiences that he neglect not to
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pray Christ the judge of generations on behalf of me, the writer, a
wretched sinner.