The southern sentinel. (Winnfield, La.) 1883-1910, 1885-05-08
ments which mark every movement

slightest preparations to belch forth
fire, and ashes, and lava and rock re-
cord themselves here. Hardly peb-
BILE can be thrown up without the story
being told by the needle of that indica-
tor. Yet all machinery, and the skilled
men who watch it night and.day, may
be swept down the mountain any mo-
ment, should the volcano rouse itself
for one of its most terrible efforts.
Even in the eruption of 1872 the heat
was so intense that the men in the OBJ
servatory found it almost impossible to
breathe. 1t is difficult not to admire
the American-like recklessness of the
Neapolitan Company that has just
opened a railway from the observatory
almost to the tip of the volcano; but
unless Vesuyius has been frightened by
this impudence into something like inn
potence, engine and train and station
house will all probably be, before very
long. some fifty feet under lava.
1t is possible to go with horses di
rectly from the observatory to Pom
pei. This is probably the most i'm
pressiye way to approach the exhumed
city. We are descending upon it along
the track the ashes must have taken
when they smothered it on that fearful
day almost two thousand years ago.
But there is no impressive entrance
within the walls of the city. There is
one lawful way of getting in. and that
is through restaurant and shop for
the sale of very ordinary curiosities,
| and turn-stile of the most modern
sort. But once past these there are no
more incongruities. Then green slop-
ing banks on each side, marking the
depth to which the shroud of ashes
covered the city, led to one OF the
arched gateways, under which you en-
ter into scene which. in spite of all
that innumerable photographs have
done to make you familiar with its
main features, impresses you as the
most remarkable you have ever looked
upon. The pavement on which you
tread is worn in hollows and ruts by
footprints and chariot wheels. The street
is lined on both sides with houses so
perfectly preserved that a few hours
work would make any of them habit
able. Yet in this great CITY, through
which you may stroll for miles, no llv-
ing thing has dwelt for twenty centur-
les. No cemetery seems SO truly city
of the dead as this. 1t is bound to the
world of to-day by no ties. A thousand
years and more ago all its relationships
to the human race were snapped, never
again to be formed This little spot OF
earth was then instantly and forever
cut off by great catastrophe from all
things terrestrial.
Close by the gateway we turned aside
into museum where q large number
of objects have been SO arranged as to
give the greatest possible assistance to
the imagination in its effort to form
some conception of Pompeii on the day
of its destruction. Bread just as it
came from the oven. with the marks of
the knife and the bakers name stamped
upon it, nuts cracked and ready for the
table, wine solidified in long-necked
bottles, and a hundred other articles of
every sort in daily use now as then. are
kept in these glass cases around the
walls But far more interesting are
these petrified statue-like bodies in the
middle of the room. Lying in the posi-
ton in which they fall, with hands
clasped in agony, or pressed over the
eyes to shut out the horrors of the in
describable scene, these human forms
convey . more vivid impression than
anyth ng else in Pompeii OF the terrors
which smothered and frightened away
their lives. A few steps brought us to
the Forum, the gathering-place of the
| political, and social life. Even relig-
ious question must have found fierce
| disputants here, for massive temples
rise on every side to different gods,
whose worshippers must often have
fingered in the Forum. before ascend.
| ing the steps to the altar, to argue fol
the superiority OF their own divinity
over all others. Passing under tri.
umphal arch we walked through stree,
after street where all the houses were
built on the same plan, and seemed te
differ only in size and elegance. Their
out of another gate we came upon the
tombs where the Pompeiians. like the
Romans along the Appian Way, built
edifices for the dead almost as stately
and grand as for the living.
Onourway to the Amphitheater, which
stands some distance from the outer
most limits of the present excavations,
we stopped to watch them gradually
uncovering house that had evidently
belonged to some rich merchant OF
noble. Yet he had not attempted t.
introduce airy architectural novelties
There was the same narrow entrance
into q small court having a fountain in
the center, room beyond for the re
ception of ordinary guests, another
court larger and more deliberately dec
GRATED, with more pretentious foun.
tain for different sorts of fish, on one
side dining room, and sleeping rooms
ON all the others, and second story
for the slaves. The Amphitheatel
stands almost rs it was on that ..last
day of Pompeii." From one of the
highest rows of its stone seats, with
Vesuvius sending up its cloud OF smoke
In the distance. with the arena SO of
ten blood-stained beneath, it is almos
impossible not to re-people the scene q,
Bulwer did. and to live over, with thes,
creatures of the imagination, the clos
ing acts of that Incompatible tragedy
l-Albdny argus.
We kevo oftov, bo~r1 ~ fha -nr