Baxter Springs news. [volume] (Baxter Springs, Kan.) 1882-1919, 1908-07-02
MARSHALL p. WILDER
(Copyright. by Joseph B. BowIcs.)

We spent five days at Naples. and
filled every hour OF II with sight'see-
ing. or course we stopped ut Her
culaneum but what can add to the
tributes that have been paid to that
wonder OF wonders? From Its three
strata of towns have been exhumed
the rarest and choicest treasures that
adorn the Naples museum.
We walked upon the crust or the
seething volcano Of Solfatara, now hair
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 Enclosure like
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, ut any moment,
its hidden fires might break forth. We
did not, as at Hawaii, drop our visit
ing cards into the clcfts, only to see
them burst into flame and consume
In q few seconds, for we were not so
curious about subterranean matters as
when we were fresh and green In
globetrotting experiences; but we
ventured out in obedience to our
guide-in whom q long familiarity
with craters had doubtless bred con-
tempt-to few feet of the center. He
stamps upon 1t and says 1t is hollow.
II 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 mo
:ear! 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
Eafely Off 1t, when you come to a hole
cut of which cur!s 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 CT
Kipling's great, gray, greasy Llmpopo
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 was
glad to speed back to the solid earth
and to thank my stars that hadn't
fallen through altogether.
From Solfatara we looked down
upon Pozzuoli, once the port of Rome,
whose wharves resounded with the
peaceful stir Of commerce.
The lovely Bay Of Ba.ae. 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
fish viceroy which stands on the site
of Nero's villa; we compared 1t for
beauty to the lonely temple Of Scraps
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 30 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 Posilipo 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 1t 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 &C.
cent: but the shortened, curt Spa
ghett!" was hurled at us from every
corner ana followed, with deafening
echoes. our vanishing carriage
wheels. Spaghetti Spaghetti" Me-
thinks hear 1t now; and shall GER
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 a son did not nIingle pleasantly
with the peaceful tapping Of the waves
against the reeds. so We turned away
and asked TO be taken to the Grotto
Del Cane. or Dog Grotto, that amazing