Notintcouldbemoreravishing，nolustremoresuperb。Throwastoneintothewater，andthemyriadoftinybubblesthatarecreatedflashoutabrilliantglarelikebluetheatricalfires。Dipanoar，anditsbladeturnstosplendidfrostedsilver，tintedwithblue。Letamanjumpin，andinstantlyheiscasedinanarmormoregorgeousthaneverkinglyCrusaderwore。
ThenwewenttoIschia，butIhadalreadybeentothatislandandtiredmyselftodeath\"resting\"acoupleofdaysandstudyinghumanvillainy，withthelandlordoftheGrandeSentinelleforamodel。SowewenttoProcida，andfromthencetoPozzuoli，whereSt。PaullandedafterhesailedfromSamos。IlandedatpreciselythesamespotwhereSt。Paullanded，andsodidDanandtheothers。Itwasaremarkablecoincidence。St。PaulpreachedtothesepeoplesevendaysbeforehestartedtoRome。
Nero\'sBaths，theruinsofBaiæ，theTempleofSerapis;Cumæ，wheretheCumænSybilinterpretedtheoracles，theLakeAgnano，withitsancientsubmergedcitystillvisiblefardowninitsdepths——theseandahundredotherpointsofinterestweexaminedwithcriticalimbecility，buttheGrottooftheDogclaimedourchiefattention，becausewehadheardandreadsomuchaboutit。EverybodyhaswrittenabouttheGrottodelCaneanditspoisonousvapors，fromPlinydowntoSmith，andeverytouristhasheldadogoveritsfloorbythelegstotestthecapabilitiesoftheplace。Thedogdiesinaminuteandahalf——achickeninstantly。Asageneralthing，strangerswhocrawlintheretosleepdonotgetupuntiltheyarecalled。Andthentheydon\'teither。Thestrangerthatventurestosleeptheretakesapermanentcontract。Ilongedtoseethisgrotto。
Iresolvedtotakeadogandholdhimmyself\';suffocatehimalittle，andtimehim;suffocatehimsomemoreandthenfinishhim。Wereachedthegrottoataboutthreeintheafternoon，andproceededatoncetomaketheexperiments。Butnow，animportantdifficultypresenteditself。Wehadnodog。ASCENTOFVESUVIUS——CONTINUED。
AttheHermitagewewereaboutfifteenoreighteenhundredfeetabovethesea，andthusfaraportionoftheascenthadbeenprettyabrupt。Forthenexttwomilestheroadwasamixture——sometimestheascentwasabruptandsometimesitwasnot:butonecharacteristicitpossessedallthetime，withoutfailure——withoutmodification——itwasalluncompromis—inglyandunspeakablyinfamous。Itwasarough，narrowtrail，andledoveranoldlavaflow——ablackoceanwhichwastumbledintoathousandfantasticshapes——awildchaosofruin，desolation，andbarrenness——awildernessofbillowyupheavals，offuriouswhirlpools，ofminiaturemountainsrentasunder——ofgnarledandknotted，wrinkledandtwistedmassesofblacknessthatmimickedbranchingroots，greatvines，trunksoftrees，allinterlacedandmingledtogether:andalltheseweirdshapes，allthisturbulentpanorama，allthisstormy，far—stretchingwasteofblackness，withitsthrillingsuggestivenessoflife，ofaction，ofboiling，surging，furiousmotion，waspetrified！——allstrickendeadandcoldintheinstantofitsmaddestrioting！——fettered，paralyzed，andlefttogloweratheaveninimpotentrageforevermore！
Finallywestoodinalevel，narrowvalley（avalleythathadbeencreatedbytheterrificmarchofsomeoldtimeirruption）andoneitherhandtoweredthetwosteeppeaksofVesuvius。Theonewehadtoclimb——theonethatcontainstheactivevolcano——seemedabouteighthundredoronethousandfeethigh，andlookedalmosttoostraight—up—and—downforanymantoclimb，andcertainlynomulecouldclimbitwithamanonhisback。Fourofthesenativepirateswillcarryyoutothetopinasedanchair，ifyouwishit，butsupposetheyweretoslipandletyoufall，——isitlikelythatyouwouldeverstoprolling？Notthissideofeternity，perhaps。Weleftthemules，sharpenedourfinger—nails，andbegantheascentIhavebeenwritingaboutsolong，attwentyminutestosixinthemorning。Thepathledstraightuparuggedsweepofloosechunksofpumice—stone，andforabouteverytwostepsforwardwetook，weslidbackone。Itwassoexcessivelysteepthatwehadtostop，everyfiftyorsixtysteps，andrestamoment。
Toseeourcomrades，wehadtolookverynearlystraightupatthoseaboveus，andverynearlystraightdownatthosebelow。Westoodonthesummitatlast——ithadtakenanhourandfifteenminutestomakethetrip。
Whatwesawtherewassimplyacircularcrater——acircularditch，ifyouplease——abouttwohundredfeetdeep，andfourorfivehundredfeetwide，whoseinnerwallwasabouthalfamileincircumference。Inthecentreofthegreatcircusringthusformed，wasatornandraggedupheavalahundredfeethigh，allsnowedoverwithasulphurcrustofmanyandmanyabrilliantandbeautifulcolor，andtheditchinclosedthislikethemoatofacastle，orsurroundeditasalittleriverdoesalittleisland，ifthesimileisbetter。Thesulphurcoatingofthatislandwasgaudyintheextreme——allmingledtogetherintherichestconfusionwerered，blue，brown，black，yellow，white——Idonotknowthattherewasacolor，orshadeofacolor，orcombinationofcolors，unrepresented——
andwhenthesunburstthroughthemorningmistsandfiredthistintedmagnificence，ittoppedimperialVesuviuslikeajeweledcrown！
Thecrateritself——theditch——wasnotsovariegatedincoloring，butyet，initssoftness，richness，andunpretentiouselegance，itwasmorecharming，morefascinatingtotheeye。Therewasnothing\"loud\"aboutitswell—bredandwell—creasedlook。Beautiful？Onecouldstandandlookdownuponitforaweekwithoutgettingtiredofit。Ithadthesemblanceofapleasantmeadow，whoseslendergrassesandwhosevelvetymosseswerefrostedwithashiningdust，andtintedwithpalestgreenthatdeepenedgraduallytothedarkesthueoftheorangeleaf，anddeepenedyetagainintogravestbrown，thenfadedintoorange，thenintobrightestgold，andculminatedinthedelicatepinkofanew—blownrose。Whereportionsofthemeadowhadsunk，andwhereotherportionshadbeenbrokenuplikeanice—floe，thecavernousopeningsoftheone，andtheraggedupturnededgesexposedbytheother，werehungwithalace—workofsoft—tintedcrystalsofsulphurthatchangedtheirdeformitiesintoquaintshapesandfiguresthatwerefullofgraceandbeauty。
Thewallsoftheditchwerebrilliantwithyellowbanksofsulphurandwithlavaandpumice—stoneofmanycolors。Nofirewasvisibleanywhere，butgustsofsulphuroussteamissuedsilentlyandinvisiblyfromathousandlittlecracksandfissuresinthecrater，andwerewaftedtoournoseswitheverybreeze。Butsolongaswekeptournostrilsburiedinourhandkerchiefs，therewassmalldangerofsuffocation。
Someoftheboysthrustlongslipsofpaperdownintoholesandsetthemonfire，andsoachievedthegloryoflightingtheircigarsbytheflamesofVesuvius，andotherscookedeggsoverfissuresintherocksandwerehappy。
Theviewfromthesummitwouldhavebeensuperbbutforthefactthatthesuncouldonlypiercethemistsatlongintervals。Thustheglimpseswehadofthegrandpanoramabelowwereonlyfitfulandunsatisfactory。THEDESCENT。
Thedescentofthemountainwasalaborofonlyfourminutes。Insteadofstalkingdowntheruggedpathweascended，wechoseonewhichwasbeddedknee—deepinlooseashes，andploughedourwaywithprodigiousstridesthatwouldalmosthaveshamedtheperformanceofhimoftheseven—leagueboots。
TheVesuviusoftodayisaverypooraffaircomparedtothemightyvolcanoofKilauea，intheSandwichIslands，butIamgladIvisitedit。Itwaswellworthit。
ItissaidthatduringoneofthegranderuptionsofVesuviusitdischargedmassyrocksweighingmanytonsathousandfeetintotheair，itsvastjetsofsmokeandsteamascendedthirtymilestowardthefirmament，andcloudsofitsasheswerewaftedabroadandfelluponthedecksofshipssevenhundredandfiftymilesatsea！Iwilltaketheashesatamoderatediscount，ifanyonewilltakethethirtymilesofsmoke，butIdonotfeelabletotakeacommandinginterestinthewholestorybymyself。
Chapter31
THEBURIEDCITYOFPOMPEII。
TheypronounceitPom—pay—e。IalwayshadanideathatyouwentdownintoPompeiiwithtorches，bythewayofdamp，darkstairways，justasyoudoinsilvermines，andtraversedgloomytunnelswithlavaoverheadandsomethingoneitherhandlikedilapidatedprisonsgougedoutofthesolidearth，thatfaintlyresembledhouses。Butyoudonothingthekind。
Fullyone—halfoftheburiedcity，perhaps，iscompletelyexhumedandthrownopenfreelytothelightofday;andtherestandthelongrowsofsolidly—builtbrickhouses（roofless）justastheystoodeighteenhundredyearsago，hotwiththeflamingsun;andtherelietheirfloors，clean—wept，andnotabrightfragmenttarnishedorwaitingofthelaboredmosaicsthatpicturedthemwiththebeasts，andbirds，andflowerswhichwecopyinperishablecarpetsto—day;andherearetheVenuses，andBacchuses，andAdonises，makingloveandgettingdrunkinmany—huedfrescoesonthewallsofsaloonandbed—chamber;andtherearethenarrowstreetsandnarrowersidewalks，pa，edwithflagsofgoodbardlava，thenedeeplyruttedwiththechariot—wheels，andtheotherwiththepassingfeetofthePompeiiansofby—gonecenturies;andtherearethebake—shops，thetemples，thehallsofjustice，thebath，s，thetheatres——allclean—scrapedandneat，andsuggestingnothingofthenatureofasilvermineawaydowninthebowelsoftheearth。
Thebrokenpillarslyingabout，thedoorlessdoorwaysandthecrumbledtopsofthewildernessofwalls，werewonderfullysuggestiveofthe\"burntdistrict\"inoneofourcities，andiftherehadbeenanycharredtimbers，shatteredwindows，heapsofdebris，andgeneralblacknessandsmokinessabouttheplace，theresemblancewouldhavebeenperfect。Butno——thesunshinesasbrightlydownonoldPompeiito—dayasitdidwhenChristwasborninBethlehem，anditsstreetsarecleanerahundredtimesthaneverPompeiiansawtheminherprime。IknowwhereofIspeak——forinthegreat，chiefthoroughfares（MerchantstreetandtheStreetofFortune）haveI
notseenwithmyowneyeshowfortwohundredyearsatleastthepavementswerenotrepaired！——bowrutsfiveandeventeninchesdeepwerewornintothethickflagstonesbythechariot—wheelsofgenerationsofswindledtax—
payers？AnddoInotknowbythesesignsthatStreetCommissionersofPompeiineverattendedtotheirbusiness，andthatiftheynevermendedthepavementstheynevercleanedthem？And，besides，isitnottheinbornnatureofStreetCommis—sionerstoavoidtheirdutywhenevertheygetachance？IwishIknewthenameofthelastonethatheldofficeinPompeiisothatIcouldgivehimablast。Ispeakwithfeelingonthissubject，becauseIcaughtmyfootinoneofthoseruts，andthesadnessthatcameovermewhenI
sawthefirstpoorskeleton，withashesandlavastickingtoit，wastemperedbythereflectionthatmaybethatpartywastheStreetCommissioner。
No——Pompeiiisnolongeraburiedcity。Itisacityofhundredsandhundredsofrooflesshouses，andatangledmazeofstreetswhereonecouldeasilygetlost，withoutaguide，andhavetosleepinsomeghostlypalacethathadknownnolivingtenantsincethatawfulNovembernightofeighteencenturiesago。
WepassedthroughthegatewhichfacestheMediterranean，（calledthe\"MarineGate，\"）andbytherusty，brokenimageofMinerva，stillkeepingtirelesswatchandwardoverthepossessionsitwaspowerlesstosave，andwentupalongstreetandstoodinthebroadcourtoftheForumofJustice。Thefloorwaslevelandclean，andupanddowneithersidewasanoblecolonnadeofbrokenpillars，withtheirbeautifulIonicandCorinthiancolumnsscatteredaboutthem。AttheupperendwerethevacantseatsoftheJudges，andbehindthemwedescendedintoadungeonwheretheashesandcindershadfoundtwoprisonerschainedonthatmemorableNovembernight，andtorturedthemtodeath。Howtheymusthavetuggedatthepitilessfettersasthefiercefiressurgedaroundthem！
ThenweloungedthroughmanyandmanyasumptuousprivatemansionwhichwecouldnothaveenteredwithoutaformalinvitationinincomprehensibleLatin，intheoldentime，whentheownerslivedthere——andweprobablywouldn\'thavegotit。Thesepeoplebuilttheirhousesagooddealalike。
Thefloorswerelaidinfancifulfigureswroughtinmosaicsofmany—coloredmarbles。AtthethresholdyoureyesfalluponaLatinsentenceofwelcome，sometimes，orapictureofadog，withthelegend\"BewareoftheDog，\"
andsometimesapic—tureofabearorafaunwithnoinscriptionatall。
Thenyouenterasortofvestibule，wheretheyusedtokeepthehat—rack，Isuppose;nextaroomwithalargemarblebasininthemidstandthepipesofafountain;oneithersidearebedrooms;beyondthefountainisareception—room，thenalittlegarden，dining—room，andsoforthandsoon。Thefloorswereallmosaic，thewallswerestuccoed，orfrescoed，orornamentedwithbas—
reliefs，andhereandtherewerestatues，largeandsmall，andlittlefish—
pools，andcascadesofsparklingwaterthatsprangfromsecretplacesinthecolonnadeofhandsomepillarsthatsurroundedthecourt，andkepttheflower—bedsfreshandtheaircool。ThosePompeiianswereveryluxuriousintheirtastesandhabits。ThemostexquisitebronzeswehaveseeninEurope，camefromtheexhumedcitiesofHerculaneumandPompeii，andalsothefinestcameosandthemostdelicateengravingsonpreciousstones;
theirpictures，eighteenornineteencenturiesold，areoftenmuchmorepleasingthanthecel—ebratedrubbishoftheoldmastersofthreecenturiesago。Theywerewellupinart。Fromthecreationoftheseworksofthefirst，clearuptotheeleventhcentury，artseemshardlytohaveexistedatall——atleastnoremnantsofitareleft——anditwascurioustoseehowfar（insomethings，atanyrate，）theseoldtimepagansexcelledtheremotegenerationsofmastersthatcameafterthem。TheprideoftheworldinsculpturesseemtobetheLaocoonandtheDyingGladiator，inRome。
TheyareasoldasPompeii，weredugfromtheearthlikePompeii;buttheirexactageorwhomadethemcanonlybeconjectured。Butworn，andcracked，withoutahistory，andwiththeblemishingstainsofnumberlesscenturiesuponthem，theystillmutelymockatalleffortstorivaltheirperfections。
Itwasaquaintandcuriouspastime，wanderingthroughthisoldsilentcityofthedead——loungingthroughutterlydesertedstreetswherethousandsandthousandsofhumanbeingsonceboughtandsold，andwalkedandrode，andmadetheplaceresoundwiththenoiseandconfusionoftrafficandpleasure。Theywerenotlazy。Theyhurriedinthosedays。Wehadevidenceofthat。Therewasatempleononecorner，anditwasashortercuttogobetweenthecolumnsofthattemplefromonestreettotheotherthantogoaround——andbeholdthatpathwayhadbeenworndeepintotheheavyflagstonefloorofthebuildingbygenerationsoftime—savingfeet！Theywouldnotgoaroundwhenitwasquickertogothrough。Wedothatwayinourcities。
Everywhere，youseethingsthatmakeyouwonderhowoldtheseoldhouseswerebeforethenightofdestructioncame——things，too，whichbringbackthoselongdeadinhabitantsandplacethelivingbeforeyoureyes。Forinstance:Thesteps（twofeetthick——lavablocks）thatleadupoutoftheschool，andthesamekindofstepsthatleadupintothedresscircleoftheprincipaltheatre，arealmostwornthrough！Foragestheboyshurriedoutofthatschool，andforagestheirparentshurriedintothattheatre，andthenervousfeetthathavebeendustandashesforeighteencenturieshavelefttheirrecordforustoreadto—day。IimaginedIcouldseecrowdsofgentlemenandladiesthrongingintothetheatre，withticketsforsecuredseatsintheirhands，andonthewall，Ireadtheimaginaryplacard，ininfamousgrammar，\"POSITIVELYNOFREELIST，EXCEPTMEMBERSOFTHEPRESS！\"
Hangingaboutthedoorway（Ifancied，）wereslouchyPompeiianstreet—boysutteringslangandprofanity，andkeepingawaryeyeoutforchecks。I
enteredthetheatre，andsatdowninoneofthelongrowsofstonebenchesinthedresscircle，andlookedattheplacefortheorchestra，andtheruinedstage，andaroundatthewidesweepofemptyboxes，andthoughttomyself，\"Thishousewon\'tpay。\"Itriedtoimaginethemusicinfullblast，theleaderoftheorchestrabeatingtime，andthe\"versatile\"So—and—So（whohad\"justreturnedfromamostsuccessfultourintheprovincestoplayhislastandfarewellengagementofpositivelysixnightsonly，inPompeii，previoustohisdepartureforHerculaneum，\"）chargingaroundthestageandpilingtheagonymountainshigh——butIcouldnotdoitwithsucha\"house\"asthat;thoseemptybenchestiedmyfancydowntodullreality。
Isaid，thesepeoplethatoughttobeherehavebeendead，andstill，andmolderingtodustforagesandages，andwillnevercareforthetriflesandfolliesoflifeanymoreforever——\"Owingtocircumstances，etc。，etc。，therewillnotbeanyperformanceto—night。\"Closedownthecurtain。Putoutthelights。
AndsoIturnedawayandwentthroughshopaftershopandstoreafterstore，fardownthelongstreetofthemerchants，andcalledforthewaresofRomeandtheEast，butthetradesmenweregone，themartsweresilent，andnothingwasleftbutthebrokenjarsallsetincementofcindersandashes:thewineandtheoilthatoncehadfilledthemweregonewiththeirowners。
Inabake—shopwasamillforgrindingthegrain，andthefurnacesforbakingthebread:andtheysaythathere，inthesamefurnaces，theexhumersofPompeiifoundnice，wellbakedloaveswhichthebakerhadnotfoundtimetoremovefromtheovensthelasttimehelefthisshop，becausecircumstancescompelledhimtoleaveinsuchahurry。
Inonehouse（theonlybuildinginPompeiiwhichnowomanisnowallowedtoenter，）werethesmallroomsandshortbedsofsolidmasonry，justastheywereintheoldtimes，andonthewallswerepictureswhichlookedalmostasfreshasiftheywerepaintedyesterday，butwhichnopencouldhavethehardihoodtodescribe;andhereandtherewereLatininscriptions——obscenescintillationsofwit，scratchedbyhandsthatpossiblywereupliftedtoHeavenforsuccorinthemidstofadrivingstormoffirebeforethenightwasdone。
Inoneoftheprincipalstreetswasaponderousstonetank，andawater—spoutthatsuppliedit，andwherethetired，heatedtoilersfromtheCampagnausedtoresttheirrighthandswhentheybentovertoputtheirlipstothespout，thethickstonewasworndowntoabroadgrooveaninchortwodeep。Thinkofthecountlessthousandsofhandsthathadpressedthatspotintheagesthataregone，tosoreduceastonethatisashardasiron！
TheyhadagreatpublicbulletinboardinPompeii——aplacewhereannouncementsforgladiatorialcombats，elections，andsuchthings，wereposted——notonperishablepaper，butcarvedinenduringstone。Onelady，who，Itakeit，wasrichandwellbroughtup，advertisedadwellingorsotorent，withbathsandallthemodernimprovements，andseveralhundredshops，stipulatingthatthedwellingsshouldnotbeputtoimmoralpurposes。YoucanfindoutwholivedinmanyahouseinPompeiibythecarvedstonedoor—platesaffixedtothem:andinthesamewayyoucantellwhotheywerethatoccupythetombs。Everywherearoundarethingsthatrevealtoyousomethingofthecustomsandhistoryofthisforgottenpeople。ButwhatwouldavolcanoleaveofanAmericancity，ifitonceraineditscindersonit？Hardlyasignorasymboltotellitsstory。
InoneoftheselongPompeiianhallstheskeletonofamanwasfound，withtenpiecesofgoldinonehandandalargekeyintheother。Hehadseizedhismoneyandstartedtowardthedoor，butthefierytempestcaughthimattheverythreshold，andhesankdownanddied。Onemoreminuteofprecioustimewouldhavesavedhim。Isawtheskeletonsofaman，awoman，andtwoyounggirls。Thewomanhadherhandsspreadwideapart，asifinmortalterror，andIimaginedIcouldstilltraceuponhershapelessfacesomethingoftheexpressionofwilddespairthatdistorteditwhentheheavensrainedfireinthesestreets，somanyagesago。Thegirlsandthemanlaywiththeirfacesupontheirarms，asiftheyhadtriedtoshieldthemfromtheenvelopingcinders。Inoneapartmenteighteenskeletonswerefound，allinsittingpostures，andblackenedplacesonthewallsstillmarktheirshapesandshowtheirattitudes，likeshadows。Oneofthem，awoman，stillworeuponherskeletonthroatanecklace，withhernameengraveduponit——JULIEDIDIOMEDE。
ButperhapsthemostpoeticalthingPompeiihasyieldedtomodernresearch，wasthatgrandfigureofaRomansoldier，cladincompletearmor;who，truetohisduty，truetohisproudnameofasoldierofRome，andfullofthesterncouragewhichhadgiventothatnameitsglory，stoodtohispostbythecitygate，erectandunflinching，tillthehellthatragedaroundhimburnedoutthedauntlessspirititcouldnotconquer。
WeneverreadofPompeiibutwethinkofthatsoldier;wecannotwriteofPompeiiwithoutthenaturalimpulsetogranttohimthementionhesowelldeserves。Letusrememberthathewasasoldier——notapoliceman——andso，praisehim。Beingasoldier，hestaid，——becausethewarriorinstinctforbadehimtofly。Hadhebeenapolicemanhewouldhavestaid，also——becausehewouldhavebeenasleep。
TherearenothalfadozenflightsofstairsinPompeii，andnootherevidencesthatthehousesweremorethanonestoryhigh。Thepeopledidnotliveintheclouds，asdotheVenetians，theGenoeseandNeapolitansofto—day。
WecameoutfromunderthesolemnmysteriesofthiscityoftheVenerablePast——thiscitywhichperished，withallitsoldwaysanditsquaintoldfashionsaboutit，remotecenturiesago，whentheDiscipleswerepreachingthenewreligion，whichisasoldasthehillstousnow——andwentdreamingamongthetreesthatgrowoveracresandacresofitsstillburiedstreetsandsquares，tillashrillwhistleandthecryof\"Allaboard——lasttrainforNaples！\"wokemeupandremindedmethatIbelongedinthenineteenthcentury，andwasnotadustymummy，cakedwithashesandcinders，eighteenhundredyearsold。Thetransitionwasstartling。TheideaofarailroadtrainactuallyrunningtoolddeadPompeii，andwhistlingirreverently，andcallingforpassengersinthemostbustlingandbusiness—likeway，wasasstrangeathingasonecouldimagine，andasunpoeticalanddisagreeableasitwasstrange。
ComparethecheerfullifeandthesunshineofthisdaywiththehorrorstheyoungerPlinysawhere，the9thofNovember，A。D。79，whenhewassobravelystrivingtoremovehismotheroutofreachofharm，whileshebeggedhim，withallamother\'sunselfishness，toleavehertoperishandsavehimself。\'Bythistimethemurkydarknesshadsoincreasedthatonemighthavebelievedhimselfabroadinablackandmoonlessnight，orinachamberwhereallthelightshadbeenextinguished。Oneveryhandwasheardthecomplaintsofwomen，thewailingofchildren，andthecriesofmen。Onecalledhisfather，anotherhisson，andanotherhiswife，andonlybytheirvoicescouldtheyknoweachother。Manyintheirdespairbeggedthatdeathwouldcomeandendtheirdistress。\"Someimploredthegodstosuccorthem，andsomebelievedthatthisnightwasthelast，theeternalnightwhichshouldengulftheuniverse！\"Evensoitseemedtome——andIconsoledmyselfforthecomingdeathwiththereflection:BEHOLD，THEWORLDISPASSINGAWAY！\"********
AfterbrowsingamongthestatelyruinsofRome，ofBaiæ，ofPompeii，andafterglancingdownthelongmarbleranksofbatteredandnamelessimperialheadsthatstretchdownthecorridorsoftheVatican，onethingstrikesmewithaforceitneverhadbefore:theunsubstantial，unlastingcharacteroffame。Menlivedlonglives，intheoldentime，andstruggledfeverishlythroughthem，toilinglikeslaves，inoratory，ingeneralship，orinliterature，andthenlaidthemdownanddied，happyinthepossessionofanenduringhistoryandadeathlessname。Well，twentylittlecenturiesflutteraway，andwhatisleftofthesethings？Acrazyinscriptiononablockofstone，whichsnuffyantiquariesbotheroverandtangleupandmakenothingoutofbutabarename（whichtheyspellwrong）——nohistory，notradition，nopoetry——nothingthatcangiveitevenapassinginterest。
WhatmaybeleftofGeneralGrant\'sgreatnamefortycenturieshence？This——intheEncyclopediaforA。D。5868，possibly:\"URIAHS。（orZ。）GRAUNT——popularpoetofancienttimesintheAztecprovincesoftheUnitedStatesofBritishAmerica。SomeauthorssayflourishedaboutA。D。742;butthelearnedAh—ahFoo—foostatesthathewasacotemporaryofScharkspyre，theEnglishpoet，andflourishedaboutA。D。1328，somethreecenturiesaftertheTrojanwarinsteadofbeforeit。Hewrote\'RockmetoSleep，Mother。\'\"Thesethoughtssaddenme。Iwilltobed。
Chapter32
Home，again！Forthefirsttime，inmanyweeks，theship\'sentirefamilymetandshookhandsonthequarter—deck。Theyhadgatheredfrommanypointsofthecompassandfrommanylands，butnotonewasmissing;therewasnotaleofsicknessordeathamongtheflocktodampenthepleasureofthereunion。Oncemoretherewasafullaudienceondecktolistentothesailors\'chorusastheygottheanchorup，andtowaveanadieutothelandaswespedawayfromNaples。Theseatswerefullatdinneragain，thedominopartieswerecomplete，andthelifeandbustleontheupperdeckinthefinemoonlightatnightwaslikeoldtimes——oldtimesthathadbeengoneweeksonly，butyettheywereweekssocrowdedwithincident，adventureandexcitement，thattheyseemedalmostlikeyears。TherewasnolackofcheerfulnessonboardtheQuakerCity。Foronce，hertitlewasamisnomer。
Atsevenintheevening，withthewesternhorizonallgoldenfromthesunkensun，andspeckedwithdistantships，thefullmoonsailinghighoverhead，thedarkblueoftheseaunderfoot，andastrangesortoftwilightaffectedbyallthesedifferentlightsandcolorsaroundusandaboutus，wesightedsuperbStromboli。Withwhatmajestythemonarchheldhislonelystateabovethelevelsea！Distanceclothedhiminapurplegloom，andaddedaveilofshimmeringmistthatsosoftenedhisruggedfeaturesthatweseemedtoseehimthroughaawebofsilvergauze。Historchwasout;
hisfiresweresmoldering;atallcolumnofsmokethatroseupandlostitselfinthegrowingmoonlightwasallthesignhegavethathewasalivingAutocratoftheSeaandnotthespectreofadeadone。
AttwointhemorningwesweptthroughtheStraitsofMessina，andsobrightwasthemoonlightthatItalyontheonehandandSicilyontheotherseemedalmostasdistinctlyvisibleasthoughwelookedatthemfromthemiddleofastreetweweretraversing。ThecityofMessina，milk—white，andstarredandspangledalloverwithgaslights，wasafairyspectacle。
Agreatpartyofuswereondecksmokingandmakinganoise，andwaitingtoseefamousScyllaandCharybdis。AndpresentlytheOraclesteppedoutwithhiseternalspy—glassandsquaredhimselfonthedecklikeanotherColossusofRhodes。Itwasasurprisetoseehimabroadatsuchanhour。
NobodysupposedhecaredanythingaboutanoldfablelikethatofScyllaandCharybdis。Oneoftheboyssaid:
\"Hello，doctor，whatareyoudoinguphereatthistimeofnight？——Whatdoyouwanttoseethisplacefor？\"
\"WhatdoIwanttoseethisplacefor？Youngman，littledoyouknowme，oryouwouldn\'tasksuchaquestion。Iwishtoseealltheplacesthat\'smentionedintheBible。\"
\"Stuff——thisplaceisn\'tmentionedintheBible。\"
\"Itain\'tmentionedintheBible！——thisplaceain\'t——wellnow，whatplaceisthis，sinceyouknowsomuchaboutit？\"
\"Whyit\'sScyllaandCharybdis。\"
\"ScyllaandCha——confoundit，IthoughtitwasSodomandGomorrah！\"
Andhecloseduphisglassandwentbelow。Theaboveistheshipstory。
ItsplausibilityismarredalittlebythefactthattheOraclewasnotabiblicalstudent，anddidnotspendmuchofhistimeinstructinghimselfaboutScripturallocalities。——TheysaytheOraclecomplains，inthishotweather，lately，thattheonlybeverageintheshipthatispassable，isthebutter。Hedidnotmeanbutter，ofcourse，butinasmuchasthatarticleremainsinameltedstatenowsinceweareoutofice，itisfairtogivehimthecreditofgettingonelongwordintherightplace，anyhow，foronceinhislife。Hesaid，inRome，thatthePopewasanoble—lookingoldman，butheneverdidthinkmuchofhisIliad。
WespentonepleasantdayskirtingalongtheIslesofGreece。Theyareverymountainous。Theirprevailingtintsaregrayandbrown，approachingtored。Littlewhitevillagessurroundedbytrees，nestleinthevalleysorroostupontheloftyperpendicularsea—walls。
Wehadonefinesunset——arichcarmineflushthatsuffusedthewesternskyandcastaruddyglowfaroverthesea。——Finesunsetsseemtoberareinthispartoftheworld——oratleast，strikingones。Theyaresoft，sensuous，lovely——theyareexquisiterefined，effeminate，butwehaveseennosunsetshereyetlikethegorgeousconflagrationsthatflameinthetrackofthesinkingsuninourhighnorthernlatitudes。
Butwhatweresunsetstous，withthewildexcitementuponusofapproachingthemostrenownedofcities！Whatcaredweforoutwardvisions，whenAgamemnon，Achilles，andathousandotherheroesofthegreatPastweremarchinginghostlyprocessionthroughourfancies？Whatweresunsetstous，whowereabouttoliveandbreatheandwalkinactualAthens;yea，andgofardownintothedeadcenturiesandbidinpersonfortheslaves，DiogenesandPlato，inthepublicmarket—place，orgossipwiththeneighborsaboutthesiegeofTroyorthesplendiddeedsofMarathon？Wescornedtoconsidersunsets。
Wearrived，andenteredtheancientharborofthePiræusatlast。
Wedroppedanchorwithinhalfamileofthevillage。Awayoff，acrosstheundulatingPlainofAttica，couldbeseenalittlesquare—toppedhillwithasomethingonit，whichourglassessoondiscoveredtobetheruinededificesofthecitadeloftheAthenians，andmostprominentamongthemloomedthevenerableParthenon。Soexquisitelyclearandpureisthiswonderfulatmospherethateverycolumnofthenoblestructurewasdiscerniblethroughthetelescope，andeventhesmallerruinsaboutitassumedsomesemblanceofshape。Thisatadistanceoffiveorsixmiles。Inthevalley，neartheAcropolis，（thesquare—toppedhillbeforespokenof，）Athensitselfcouldbevaguelymadeoutwithanordinarylorgnette。Everybodywasanxioustogetashoreandvisittheseclassiclocalitiesasquicklyaspossible。Nolandwehadyetseenhadarousedsuchuniversalinterestamongthepassengers。