The Prescott daily news., 1908-06-20
The Funny Things One Sees
Copyright, by Joseph B. Bowles.)

We spent nVe days at Naples, and filled every hour of it with sight-see- ing. Of course we stopped at Her cuaneum but what can 1 add to the tributes that have been paid to that wonder of wonders? From it's three strata of towns have been eXhumed the rarest and choicest treasures that adorn the Naples museum.
 We walked upon the crust of the seething volcano of Solfatara, now half extinct-in fact, it has laid torpid for seven centuries and is now spread with lush vegetation in the spring time and the walk to it, at that sea son. is through an inclosure like a lovely park of winding alleys and flow er-edged paths. But in January we saw only the bare crust of the crater, from whose cliffs came puffs of white smoke, warnings that, at any moment, its hidden fires might break forth. We did not, as at Hawaii drop our visit ing cards into the clefts, only to see them burst into flame and consume in a few seconds, for we were not so curious about subterranean matters as when we were fresh and green in globe-trotting experiences; but we ventured out in obedience to our guide-in whom a long familiarity with craters had doubtless bred con- tempt-to few feet of the center. He stamps upon it and says it is hollow. It certainly appears so. He jumps upon it. and the surface quivers You begin to feel creepy up and down your spinal column, but, led on by his ur- gent appeals and assertions of No fear, not be fraid." you follow him on tip-toe to the very middle of the rock ing thing, hoping with all your soul that 1t will hold together until you are safely off it, when you come to a hole cut of which curls little vapor and a curious murmuring sound as of some giant mumbling in his sleep And that Is the moment in which you wish you hadn't come. But you are induced to lean over and peer down into the hole, and are fascinated by the stirring and moving of boiling mud-horrid gray mud that reminds you instantly of klplings great, gray, greasy Limpopo river. only this is lake, but gray and greasy enough in all conscience, and seething and boiling in the vent-hole, and rising and falling with the escap- ing gas that bubbles and bursts and then collects and bursts again.
 A moment or two of this and l was glad to speed back to the solid earth t.Af ,l, ls T. L. fallen through altogether.
 From Sofatara We looked down upon Pozzuoli, once the port of Rome, whose wharves reSounded with the peaceful stir of commerce.
 The lovely Bay of Baiae that was once lined with the palace-villas of the wealthy Romans. much as New ports shore is to-day, held our interest for a couple of hours. We explored the ruins of a castle built by Span ish viceroy which stands on the site of Nero's villa; we compared it for beauty to the lonely temple of Serapis we had just left behind us near Poz- zuoli, long buried beneath the sea, to be at last cast up by some mighty up heaval of unseen internal force. The beautiful, curved shore, "so beautiful yet so deadly" from the wilderness of craters which abound there. fascinated us completely. We lunched at little inn at Baiae, where we had some of the famed wine of Posiipo and were amused by the opportunities of the peasant beggars, who very success fully wheedled us out of our spare cop pers by their whines and wiles galore
 In Egypt it was "backsheesh," in our ears from morning till night throughout Europe cries of pour boire' and "trinkgeld" haunted ones footsteps; but ancient little Naples had a word all her own. It was Spaghetti" Simply that, and nothing more. No last syllable, with crisp ac- cent; but the shortened, curt Spa ghett!" was hurled at us from every echoes. our vanishing carriage wheels. Spaghetti, Spaghetti" Me thinks l hear it now: and l shall cer- tainly never eat spaghetti again with out being reminded of this slogan of the Neapolitan beggar.
 Beside the Lucrine lake we stood and conjured up the spot where the villa of Agrippina. mother of Nero, probably stood; but the thought of her cruel murder at the hands of her mon- ster of son did not mingle pleasantly with the peaceful tapping of the waves against the reeds, so we turned away and asked to be taken to the Grotto