Round the Wonderful World

by G. E. Mitton

VESUVIUS.

We arrive at Naples early in the morning and are the very first to be up and out on deck. The bay has been called one of the most lovely to be seen anywhere, but to-day at least it is disappointing, for there is no sun and only a dull grey drizzle, which carries our thoughts back to England at once.

The houses of the town rise in tiers up the hillside, very tall and straight, and seem to be filled with innumerable windows.

However, it is not the view of Naples itself which is called so beautiful but rather that of the bay from Naples, especially on a blue and golden day, and that we have no chance of seeing. On one side of the bay rises the mighty mountain whose furious deeds have made him known and respected all over the world. There is a heavy cloud hanging around his crest so that we cannot see the crater; the cloud looks as if it were composed of smoke as much as anything else, for even yet Vesuvius is terribly alive.

We get a hasty breakfast, for though we are going to be here till late afternoon, there is much to see, and we have no time to spare. Then we get into a little launch and steam past all the great ships lying at anchor. On the quay we find ourselves in a great crowd of grey uniformed soldiers, many of them mere lads, carrying their kit, and drawn up in lines waiting their turn to march on board the towering troopship anchored alongside, while some of them wind up the gangway like a great grey snake. Those already in the ship are letting down ropes to draw up bottles of wine or baskets of fruit from the women who sell such things. Within a short time Italy has become mistress of Tripoli, a country in Africa, and now she is finding she will have to garrison it in order to hold it; and though it costs her a great deal of money she is sending out many of her young soldiers to guard the new possession.

We get some money changed on the quay, receiving in exchange a number of lire; the lira is very like a franc and corresponds with it and the English shilling, though a little less in value.

This done we walk along the front to the station. Many of the streets are high and broad with splendid houses lining them. In them are men busily at work washing away the mud with long hose pipes mounted on little wheels, so that they look like giant lizards or funny snakes on legs running across the streets by themselves, and as much alive as the well-known advertisement of the carpet-sweeper and Mary Ann!

Other streets are very narrow and filled with people buying and selling. There are swarms of children rolling about in the filth of the roadway; they are dressed in rags and their bodies show through the large holes. They are often playing with old bones or pebbles. Their faces are sometimes quite beautiful, rich golden-brown in colour, and their great velvety brown eyes look so sweetly innocent you would be easily taken in by them; but they are terrible little rogues and would beg from you or steal if they got the chance. Here and there are shops where macaroni is sold; it is ready boiling in great pans; this and cakes made of a kind of flour called polenta are the chief food of the Italians. The macaroni is made out of flour mixed with water to a stiff paste and squeezed through holes in a box till it comes out in long strings. It used to be made in all the dust and dirt of the villages, and is still often to be seen hanging over posts there to dry, but there are now large manufactories where it is made quite cleanly by machinery; we shall see some as we pass on our way to Pompeii, where we are going. There is one pleasant thing to notice, namely, wherever you look you see flowers growing; the larger and better-class houses have balconies filled with broad-leaved plants and creepers, and the very poorest people living high up towards the sky have window-boxes filled with flowers.

At the station we find a little train, like a tram, with red velvet cushions, and while we sit and wait for it to take us to Pompeii, the city buried by Vesuvius, the rain falls softly and steadily. Presently the stationmaster and his assistant step out gingerly along the uncovered platform, holding umbrellas over their uniforms, and give the word of command, and very slowly we start, and jolt along, stopping frequently. We pass through market gardens first and then through endless vineyards, in many of which the clinging vines are not propped up on sticks, but merely looped from one poplar tree to another, for the trees are growing in straight rows and form a natural support. This ground is particularly good for vines, for the lava which has been dug into the soil is peculiarly fruitful.