The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1876-08-25

extended itself at the top into a sort of
branches, occasioned, L imagine, either
by sudden gust of air, that impelled
it, the force of which decreased as it ad-
vanced upward, or the cloud itself, being
pressed back again by its own weight,
expanded in this manner. 1t appeared
sometimes bright, and sometimes dark
and spotted, as it was more or less inn
pregnated with earth and cinders."
Again, he says, describing subsequent
events: "The chariots which we had
ordered to be drawn out were so agi-
tated backward and forward, though
upon the most level ground, that we
could not keep them steady, even by
supporting them with large stones.
The sea seemed to roll back upon itself,
and to be driven from its banks by the
convulsive motion of the earth. 1t is
certain, at least, that the shore was
considerably enlarged, and several sea
animals were left upon it. On the other
side black and dreadful cloud, burst
ing with an igneous serpentine vapOr,
darted out a long train of fire, re-
sembling flashes of lightning, but much
larger"
The following is an extract from his
description of the flight of himself and
his mother:
1.-THE ashes now began to fall upon
US, though in no great quantity.
turned my head, and observed behind
US a thick smoke, which came rolling
after US like a torrent. 1 proposed,
while we had yet any light, to turn out
of the high road, lest my mother should
be pressed to death in the dark by the
crowd that followed us. We had scarce
stepped out of the path when darkness
nuarJnraaA lilo fhof of RlnnhEy
night, or when there is no moon, but of
room when it is shut up and all the
lights extinct. Nothing then was to be
heard but the shrieks of women, the
screams of children, and the cries of
men; some calling for their children,
others for their parents, others for their
husbands, and only Distinguishing each
other by their voices. One lamenting
his own fate, another that of his fam
| lily; some wishing to die from the very
fear of dying; some lifting their hands
to the gods; but the greater part i'm
aginiDg that the last and eternal night
was come, which was to destroy the
gods and the world together"
No doubt many escaped out Of the
reach of the volcano, but how many
perished will never be known. Death
overlook some in their dwellings, and
they died clasping those whom they
best loved. Others died on the streets,
beaten down and smothered by the con-
slant and terrible rain of ashes and Gin
ders.' Some were crushed beneath fall
ing roofs, while some were suffocated in
the very act of trying to gather together
their valuables. Oh it was a terrible
hour! No wonder they thought the
end of the world had come!
aOnIA ono roalxy foil xuhap
ing dawned, for darkness filled the air.
The crowds were still pressing in the
street. Men, women, and children
shrieked and screamed, and called upon
one another in their terror and agony.
Still the ashes kept falling, until the
ground was covered as with a deep
snow, and the weak were crushed and
buried beneath them. The sea rose,
and then rushed back from the sh IRE,
and was violently agitated. Vesuvius
kept pouring forth it's column of flame
and smoke, until the light could be
seen far away, and smoke and ashes OBJ
scured the daylight at Rome, and even
drifted to the shores of Africa.
The buildings were consumed by the
flames, and their roofs and walls
crumbled, and the ashes and cinders
descended upon them, and sifted into
all the rooms and crevices, and wrapped
themselves about every article of furni-
ture, and rose higher and higher, until
everything was covered. The narrow
streets were filled, and all the shrek
ing, terror-stricken, rushing, running,
writhing crowd became silent and mo-
tionless, and wrapped in a gray-white
pail. Still the ashes came down. They
. filled the rooms of the houses to the
very highest point, and then Joined
with the ashes which filled the streets
and everything was covered over. Nc
; trace of houses remained, not even 8
dome or a spire, or the unfallen frag'
, ment of wall. The city was dead anC
buried, and grayish-white ashes spread
! in an unbroken surface over its tomb
dead and buried, and its grave only tC
tell where it once was.
But, as we sometimes see a grave in
, an old church-yard sink down to 6
, level with the rest of the ground, the
, stone which marked it crumbled away
} the grass and weeds grown over it, and
! at last all traces of it disappear, 81
gradually the gray-white ground begar
to grow green with grass. Trees sprung
) up over it, their seeds probably borne
! thither by the winds. Then, as The
2 years passed away, and the terrible
7 horror of the first remembrance of the
, occurrence was beginning to be some
what lessened, the peasants planted
t vineyards and fig and olive orchards
} above the place where the old city onct
! stood.
2 Still, time passed on. Mount Vesu
, vius again and again sent forth fire ant
! smoke from her new crater within he
, old one; more ashes sifted through tn,
= air, and descended upon the surround
] ing plains, and streams of melted law
poured down the mountain sides. Th
] whole face of the country becam
] changed, and men gradually forgot tn
/ spot where Pompeii had once stood
/ After more than sixteen hundred years
g when the people of the world had for
, gotten everything about Pompeii ex
3 cept its name and its destruction, SOM
t vine-dressers, while working in vine
yard, struck their spades upon some OLE
/, walls, and, their curiosity being ex
! cited, they kept on digging until the.
r had unearthed some statues. Thi
e clearing was made in 1748, and sine
t then there has been nearly constan
q work in digging out the ruins of tn
!, buried city. 1t is not, however, unit
e within the last fifteen years that tn
labor has been pursued with system
t and energy. Now about one-thir
e of it is cleared of rubbish, and the trav
e eler who visits the spot may walk tn
r streets of Pompeii, treading the yer,
t pavement the Pompeiians did. H
/ IL L -