Almost all of us had read Bulwer-Lytton's novel, "The Last Days of Pompeii," and were familiar with his vivid description of the fearful eruption of Vesuvius which overwhelmed the city in the year A.D. 79,—the darkness, the terror of the people, the hasty flight, the roar of explosions, the volcanic lightnings, the scorching ashes, the sulphurous fumes, and the hot rain. Very interesting to us were the places described by Bulwer in his novel; the dwelling of the magistrate Pansa, the villa of the wealthy Diomede where eighteen skeletons surrounded by provisions and jewels had been found, the house of the poet Glaucus whose threshold was guarded by the mosaic of a chained dog with the now well known motto 'Cave Canem' or 'Beware of the Dog.' Most interesting, perhaps, was the Temple of Isis, in which the most exciting incidents of Bulwer's novel took place. There the guide showed us the altar, the well, the secret stairway, the platform from which the oracle spoke, and the spot where the skeleton of the priest with an ax was found.
"Broken columns and ruined walls are all that remain of the grandeur of the Forum," explained the guide as he led the way through a triumphal arch into a large area. "These extensive marble-paved floors were once decorated with statues of the illustrious men of Pompeii."
"The Forum was a bustling place," he continued, as we stood in the centre of the area. "In the open court the people met to exchange opinions and obtain the news. On the porticoes the money changers made loans and the brokers sold real estate and grain. It was the political center of the city. Here the magistrates administered justice. Here the populace met with joyful acclamations to raise a favorite to power, and here, too, angry mobs gathered to compel an offending ruler to vacate his office. It was the religious centre as well; for adjoining the Forum are the ruins of the Temple of Mercury, the Temple of Venus, the Temple of Jupiter, and the Temple of Augustus."
MOST INTERESTING, PERHAPS, IS THE TEMPLE OF ISIS.
When we were ready to leave Pompeii, after a tramp through other streets and a visit to the Museum, the subject of giving a fee to the guide was considered. At the gate when entering we had read a notice stating that guides furnished by the government were not permitted to accept fees from visitors. The guide assigned to us, however, had been very obliging and had given much interesting information. Appreciating this we slipped into his hand secretly at parting a token of our good will. "Gratia! Gratia!" very heartily he responded, assuring us that our gift, the forbidden, was acceptable.
After returning from Pompeii to our steamship we found that although the evening hours had arrived, the harbor was still a scene of animation. Scores of Italian stevedores were carrying baskets of coal on their shoulders from barges into the bunkers of the Moltke. Near by other laborers were hoisting crates of lemons and oranges and lowering them into the hold of an English steamer. A little rowboat with a stove on board was running a brisk restaurant business, selling bread, coffee, fried eggs, fried potatoes, and fried fish to boatmen and laborers, who managed to devour the viands without assistance of plate, knife, or fork.
Alongside our steamer a number of boys in a rowboat were making a distracting noise with tin pans and crude instruments, looking up in the hope that some one would pay them for creating a disturbance. In another boat, gaily attired Neapolitan musicians played and sang popular airs in a pleasing way that drew coins from the pockets of the hearers. At the close of each piece of music one of the women held a spread umbrella upside down to catch the coppers that were dropped into it from the deck thirty feet above.
"The daylight ends too soon," regretfully observed one of our party, an artist of considerable reputation, who, seated in his favorite nook near the stern, was endeavoring to complete his color notes and sketches of the picturesque scenes before the darkness hid them from view. "But the sky above the mountain is reddening and the glow of Vesuvius will give me work for to-night."