What new wonders will be discovered, what other skeletons will yet be found, what new revelations will yet be made, none can tell; but doubtless, as street after street and building after building are uncovered, new developments will be made, and new light thrown upon the dark history of the past. The articles al

ready disinterred teach us the perfection to which the arts were carried by the ancients, and show us a remarkable similarity in many of the household utensils of the past and the present times. I regard the day spent in visiting Pompeii, and the night previous, which was employed in climbing the sides of Vesuvius, as the most remarkable of my whole tour. The scenes witnessed are the greenest and freshest in my remembrance, and doubtless will be the last which will be obliterated from my memory. I seem still to walk the streets of Pompeii, and gaze upon the relics of the past.

XXVII.

VESUVIUS, THE DESTROYER.

THIS mountain is thirty-six hundred and eighty feet high, and for ages has been the scene of violent convul sions, which have increased in frequency with the lapse of time. The first of which we have any authentic account is that which buried Herculaneum and Pompeii. This was followed by other and less destructive eruptions in 203, 472, 512, 685, 993, 1036, 1306, 1631, 1730, 1766, 1779, 1794, and more frequently during the present century. Some of these have been very violent and destructive, and have carried terror through all the towns and cities which lie scattered around its base. That of 1794 shook down and overwhelmed the houses of Torre del Greco, a town of some twenty thousand inhabitants; that of 1822 sent forth such showers of ashes, that they were flying for more than a hundred miles, and the sun was darkened at noonday the region round about. Almost every year, the mountain shows some fearful signs and utters its terrific anathemas.

We set off to visit it, one night, about midnight. As we took our places in the carriage, a fine balloon, splendidly illuminated, ascended from a distant part of the city, like a globe of fire burning over our heads a while, and was finally lost in the clouds. It was sent up in honor of some saint; but we enjoyed it as much, as we rode along, as if it were a tribute of

respect to our worthy selves. We drove as far as Portici, where we exchanged our carriage for horses. I had never rode horseback an hour in my life; and the idea of climbing up the side of the mountain in this way did not please me. However, the gentle horse was given to me, and I mounted with some forebodings. Neither of us could boast of horses; for five such looking creatures are seldom brought together; but as they were the best we could get, we started in singular file, Joseph leading off. We had driven out about a quarter of a mile, when the animal I rode, without cause or provocation, in as fine a street as ever was, plunged headlong upon the pavements, sending me sprawling upon the stones, to the great amusement of my companions. I succeeded in getting up myself, with a bruised knee and an aching head; but my horse, gentle creature, waited to be helped up. We finally got him upon his feet, when I persisted in exchanging with the guide, who was riding a nice little creature, and which, after a deal of scolding, he gave up. I mounted, and found my condition vastly improved; and we again set forth. For some time, the ascent was gradual, the road winding and wide, passing along by cultivated fields and rich orchards; but as we approached the mountain, these evidences of fertility were exchanged for a state of indescribable barrenness. The beds and fields of lava, now spread out as if leveled by the hand of man, and anon rising in dark red walls on every side, cast a dreary gloom over the whole prospect; and we were glad to stop, now and then, to gaze down upon the beautiful spectacle below, which stretched itself from the foot of the mountain to the shores of the Bay of Naples. Still on we went, by the Hermitage and the Observatory, up into more desolate

fields, where not a green spot nor a single vine appears to relieve the eye or detract from the desolate scene. There are some places, however, on the sides of the mountain, where grows a vine of the grape of which a wine is made called Lachryma Christi, or the "Tears of Christ," which is said to be very delicious, and which is sold at a very high price. Up higher we ascended; our poor beasts picked out their way amid the fallen blocks of lava, now leaping across ravines, and then rubbing their sides against the torn and ragged masses, until the bridle became useless, and we gave ourselves up to the instincts of the animals on which we rode. About three hours after starting from Naples, we arrived at the base of the cone, and fastened our horses in the crater of an extinct volcano, or rather an old crater of the still trembling and fiery Vesuvius. And now commenced our toils. The cone is desperately steep, and we were obliged to clamber up over rough, rolling pieces of lava, which are set in motion as the foot treads upon them, and frequently three steps are taken backward where one is set forward. For a while, we toiled up the steep without assistance; but, at length, we called to several men trained to the work, who started with us from the base of the cone, who handed us leather thongs, one end of which was fastened to their own shoulders. Accustomed to climbing, they moved on rapidly, and gave us much assistance. The tedious work lasted an hour, when we found ourselves at the summit, and standing on the verge of the terrible crater, just as the sun arose in all its beauty, and poured a flood of golden light over the mountain and the surrounding scenery.

At a distance, Vesuvius looks like a sugar loaf, with a small flat surface at the summit, from which a cloud