“‘In summer he always rose from supper by day-light, and in winter as soon as it was dark; and he observed this rule as strictly as if it had been a law of the state.
“‘Such was his manner of life amidst the noise and hurry of the town; but, in the country, his whole time was devoted to study, without intermission, excepting only when he bathed. In this exception I include no more than the time he was actually in the bath; for, while he was rubbed and wiped, he was employed in hearing some book read to him, or in dictating. In his journeys he lost no time from his studies; but his mind, at those seasons, being disengaged from all other business, applied itself wholly to that single pursuit.
“‘A secretary constantly attended him in his chariot, who, in the winter, wore a kind of warm gloves, that the sharpness of the weather might not occasion any intermission to my uncle’s studies; and for the same reason, when at Rome, he was always carried in a chair. I remember, he once reproved me for walking. ‘You might,’ said he, ‘employ those hours to more advantage;’ for he thought every hour lost, that was not given to study. By this extraordinary application he found time to compose the several treatises I have mentioned; besides one hundred and sixty volumes, which he left me by his will, consisting of a kind of common-place, written on both sides, in a very small character; so that one might fairly reckon the number considerably more. I have heard him say that, when he was comptroller of the revenue in Spain, Largius Licinius offered him 400,000 sesterces (about £.3200 of our money) for those manuscripts, and yet they were not then quite so numerous.’”
“What a remarkably industrious man he must have been!” said Ann.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Wilmot; “and although it would not be possible for the generality of men to pursue his plans, yet I think we may all learn something from his diligence, and his (may I not say) miserly care of time. But to proceed with the narration.
“‘My uncle was at this time, with the fleet under his command, at Misenum, in the gulf of Naples. On the twenty-fourth of August, at about one in the afternoon, my mother desired him to observe a cloud, which appeared of a very unusual shape and size. He had just returned from enjoying the benefit of the sun; and, after bathing in cold water, and taking a slight repast, was retired to his study: he immediately arose, and went out upon an eminence, from which he might more distinctly view the phenomenon. It was not, at this distance, discernible from what mountain the cloud issued; but it was found afterwards to proceed from Vesuvius, about six miles distant from Naples. I cannot give you a more correct, or exact description of its figure, than to represent it by that of a pine-tree; for it shot up a great height, in the form of a tall trunk, which spread at the top into a sort of branches; occasioned, I suppose, either by the force of the internal vapour, which impelled the cloud upwards, decreasing in strength as it advanced, or, that the cloud, being pressed back by its own weight, expanded itself in the manner I have mentioned: it appeared sometimes dark and spotted, and sometimes bright, as it was either more or less impregnated with earth and cinders.
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“‘This uncommon appearance excited my uncle’s philosophical curiosity to take a nearer view of it. He accordingly ordered a light vessel to be prepared; and offered me the liberty, if I thought proper, to attend him. I chose rather to continue the employment in which I was engaged; for it happened that he had given me a certain writing to copy.
“‘As he was going out of the house, with his tablets in his hand, he was met by the mariners, belonging to the galleys stationed at Retina, from which they had fled in the uttermost terror; for that port being situated at the foot of Vesuvius, they had no other way than to escape by sea. They conjured him, therefore, not to proceed, and expose his life to imminent and inevitable danger. In compliance with this advice, he exchanged his original intentions; and, instead of gratifying his philosophical spirit, he resigned it to the more magnanimous principle of aiding the distressed.