Buried Cities, vol 1, Pompeii | Page 6

picture,
the buried city, the fear of that horrid night, the sorrows of the people
left back there, his father, his dear home in Athens. At last he fell
asleep. The night was horrible with dreams--fire, earthquake, strangling
ashes, cries, thunder, lightning. But his tired body held him asleep for
several hours. Finally he awoke. He was lying on a soft mattress. A
warm blanket covered him. Clean air filled his nostrils. The gentle light
of dawn lay upon his eyes. A strange face bent over him.
"It is only weariness," a kind voice was saying. "He needs food and rest
more than medicine."
Then Ariston saw Tetreius, also, bending over him. The slave leaped to
his feet. He was ashamed to be caught asleep in his master's presence.

He feared a frown for his laziness.
"My picture is finished, master," he cried, still half asleep.
"And so is your slavery," said Tetreius, and his eyes shone.
"It was not a slave who carried my son out of hell on his back. It was a
hero." He turned around and called, "Come hither, my friends."
Three Roman gentlemen stepped up. They looked kindly upon Ariston.
"This is the lad who saved my son," said Tetreius. "I call you to witness
that he is no longer a slave. Ariston, I send you from my hand a free
man."
He struck his hand lightly on the Greek's shoulder, as all Roman
masters did when they freed a slave. Ariston cried aloud with joy. He
sank to his knees weeping. But Tetreius went on.
"This kind physician says that Caius will live. But he needs good air
and good nursing. He must go to some one of Aesculapius' holy places.
He shall sleep in the temple and sit in the shady porches, and walk in
the sacred groves. The wise priests will give him medicines. The god
will send healing dreams. Do you know of any such place, Ariston?"
The Greek thought of the temple and garden of Aesculapius on the
sunny side of the Acropolis at home in Athens. But he could not speak.
He gazed hungrily into Tetreius' eyes. The Roman smiled.
"Ariston, this ship is bound for Athens! All my life I have loved
her--her statues, her poems, her great deeds. I have wished that my son
might learn from her wise men. The volcano has buried my home,
Ariston. But my wealth and my friends and my son are aboard this ship.
What do you say, my friend? Will you be our guide in Athens?"
Ariston leaped up from his knees. A fire of joy burned in his eyes. He
stretched his hands to the sky.
"O blessed Herakles," he cried, "again thou hast conquered Death.
Thou didst snatch us from the grave of Pompeii. Give health to this
Roman boy. O fairest Athena, shed new beauty upon our violet
crowned Athens. For there is coming to visit her the best of men, my
master Tetreius."
[Illustration: _A Marble Table_: The lions' heads were painted yellow.
You can see a table much like this in the garden pictured later.]

VESUVIUS
So a living city was buried in a few hours. Wooded hills and green

fields lay covered under great ash heaps. Ever since that terrible
eruption Vesuvius has been restless. Sometimes she has been quiet for
a hundred years or more and men have almost forgotten that she ever
thundered and spouted and buried cities. But all at once she would
move again. She would shoot steam and ashes into the sky. At night
fire would leap out of her top. A few times she sent out dust and lava
and destroyed houses and fields. A man who lived five hundred years
after Pompeii was destroyed described Vesuvius as she was in his time.
He said:
"This mountain is steep and thick with woods below. Above, it is very
craggy and wild. At the top is a deep cave. It seems to reach the bottom
of the mountain. If you peep in you can see fire. But this ordinarily
keeps in and does not trouble the people. But sometimes the mountain
bellows like an ox. Soon after it casts out huge masses of cinders. If
these catch a man, he hath no way to save his life. If they fall upon
houses, the roofs are crushed by the weight. If the wind blow stiff, the
ashes rise out of sight and are carried to far countries. But this
bellowing comes only every hundred years or thereabout. And the air
around the mountain is pure. None is more healthy. Physicians send
thither sick men to get well."
The ashes that had covered Pompeii changed to rich soil. Green vines
and shrubs and trees sprang up and covered it, and flowers made