The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-06-06
THE SENTINEL OF poMpElI.



 Eighteen hundred years ago the latter part of this month there occurred one of the grandest tragedies ever recorded on the pages of history. Two growing cities, peopled with busy popnlace, lmhued with the thoushtless security that tenn poral yegfw< presented, basked under Italian skies on the sunny slopes Of Vesu. sius. In the blaze of national glory they lived beneath the proud standard of the Roman empire, and that was their hfe'S chiefest honor. Beyond the mere anim al existence, their only cares were personal comfort and pleasure, to both of which they resigned all future anticip AtionS The victorious Cesars, laden with the precious treasures of baSbaric splendoF, came trooping homeward yearly from all directions to the "mistress of the world" Every city, town and hamlet gave loyal welcome and shout to the corq aering he roes, and in return for the assurances of allegiance, the captives, both men and beasts, were distributed for the fature amusement of the citizens The old em peror was dead, and Pompeii, which had just rendered homage to the newly crowned Titus, was to enjoy the national sports on the holiday dec reed by the naughty sovereign. It was midsummer, and in the outer bay the gilded triremes swinging idly at their anchorage, and the Roman legion stationed at the barracks and guArd-houseS, were the only evi- dences of life. Silence haunted the sea and land. Outside the notthern gate, leading to Herculaneuuf in the scanty shade afforded by the sentry box stood a Roman soldier, detailed to guard the principal entrance to the city. The after noon appro lch $ with sultry steps asd the population seeks the refreshing b aths to stir their drowsy natures and innerate them for the walk to the Coliseum, at the extreme southwestern corner of the city. The neighboring city of Herculaneum and suburban villages send their quota to the great stone auditorium. and thousands upon thous ards flock thither to sate th cir depraved taste in the fendish exhibition. The programme proceeds, and the de- lighted multitude gave vent to their en. thusiasm ID laughter, cheers, or a pplause. when-hist! roar, light, and the heav- ems are a mass of flame. .Hshe,eKle! 1koas iSfendiI.t .Salve asS, Q, HfnHJ /" cry the affrighted people to the city's goddess, and in tAeir blinded fury block the narrow gates of the theatre as they rush toward the city.
 The story of that awful night, and the weeks continuous storm of burning ashes, was written in a book that re- mained unopened for seventeen centuries Piny, the younger, left the only account of the wonderful scene, of which he was an eye witness, wherein be describes the accident which led his uncle, Phny, the elder, to visit Pompeii on the day of the eruption, and caused his death. Hercu. laneum, nearer the crater, was buried in the molten lava, which formed an almost impenetrable envelope to the lost city Pompeii, at greater distance, was shrouded by the ashes brought thither by the wind, and consequently presents a fine opportunity for observations A, the Herculaneum gate, above mentioned. was found the rus.ed armor of pompe- ian soldier, erect in the sentry-box, grasp ing corroded spear. The raging hell of Vesuvius fires burned out that spirit which the storm could not queach, and forever the story of the noble sentinel of Pompeii will remain as a synonym of {. delity to duty.
 Bulwer says of him: "The fires ragged, the air was darkened, the oceau of blaz. ing lava flooded every street and house, palace and garden. Wildly shrieking multitudes rushed through the pande- monium, making the horrid scene still more hideous by the death walls, but amidst IL all the sentinel remained mo- tionless in his place, awaiting the resur- rection of eighteen centuries 10 prove tha, there was one faithful soldier in the doomed city of Pompe:i who died at his post and preferred dreadful death to a shameful flight"