Buried Cities, vol 1, Pompeii | Page 7

it gay.
Therefore people said to themselves:
"After all, she is a good old mountain. There will never be another
eruption while we are alive."
So villages grew up around her feet. Farmers came and built little
houses and planted crops and were happy working the fertile soil. They
did not dream that they were living above a buried city, that the roots of
their vines sucked water from an old Roman house, that buried statues
lay gazing up toward them as they worked.
About three hundred years ago came another terrible eruption. Again
there were earthquakes. Again the mountain bellowed. Again black
clouds turned day into night. Lightning flashed from cloud to cloud.
Tempests of hot rain fell. The sea rushed back and forth on the shore.
The whole top of the mountain was blown out or sank into the melting
pot. Seven rivers of red-hot lava poured down the slopes. They flowed
for five miles and fell into the sea. On the way they set fire to forests

and covered five little villages. Thousands of people were killed.
Since that time Vesuvius has been very active. Almost every year there
have been eruptions with thunder and earthquakes and showers and
lava. A few of these have done much damage. [Footnote: In this year,
1922, Vesuvius has been very active for the first time since 1906. It has
been causing considerable alarm in Naples. A new cone, 230 feet high,
has developed.--Ed.] And even on her calmest days a cloud has always
hung above the mountain top. Sometimes it has been thin and white--a
cloud of steam. Sometimes it has been black and curling--a cloud of
dust.
Vesuvius is a dangerous thing, but very beautiful. It stands tall and
pointed and graceful against a lovely sky. Its little cloud waves from it
like a plume. At night the mountain is swallowed by the dark. But the
red rivers down its slopes glare in the sky. It is beautiful and terrible
like a tiger. Thousands of people have loved it. They have climbed it
and looked down its crater. It is like looking into the heart of the earth.
One of these travelers wrote of his visit in 1793. He said:
"For many days Vesuvius has been in action. I have watched it from
Naples. It is wonderfully beautiful and always changing. On one day
huge clouds poured out of the top. They hung in the sky far above,
white as snow. Suddenly a cloud of smoke rushed out of another mouth.
It was as black as ink. The black column rose tall and curling beside the
snowy clouds. That was a picture in black and white. But at another
time I saw one in bright colors.
"On a certain night there were towers and curls and waves and spires of
flames leaping from the top of the mountain. Millions of red-hot stones
were shot into the sky. They sailed upward for hundreds of feet, then
curved and fell like skyrockets. I looked through my telescope and saw
liquid lava boiling and bubbling over the crater's edge. I could see it
splash upon the rocks and glide slowly down the sides of the cone. The
whole top of the mountain was red with melted rock. And above it
waved the changing flames of red, orange, yellow, blue.
"On another night, as I was getting into bed, I felt an earthquake. I
looked out of my window toward Vesuvius. All the top was glowing
with red-hot matter. A terrible roaring came from the mountain. In an
instant fire shot high into the air. The red column curved and showered
the whole cone. In half a minute came another earthquake shock. My

doors and windows rattled. Things were shaken from my table to the
floor. Then came the thunder of an explosion from the mountain and
another shower of fire. After a few seconds there were noises like the
trampling of horses' hoofs. It was, of course, the noise of the shot-out
stones falling upon the rocks of the mountainsides eight miles away.
"I decided to ascend the volcano and see the crater from which all these
interesting things came. A few friends went with me. For most of the
way we traveled on horses. After two or three hours we reached the
bottom of the cone of rocks and ashes. From there we had to go on foot.
We went over to the river of red-hot lava. We planned to walk up along
its edge. But the hot rock was smoking, and the wind blew the smoke
into our faces. A thick mist of fine ashes from the crater almost
suffocated us. Sulphur fumes blew toward us and choked us. I said,
"'We must cross the stream of lava. On the other side