s own fate, another that of his family; some
wishing to die, from the very fear of dying; some lifting their hands to
the gods; but the greater part convinced that there were now no gods at
all, and that the final endless night of which we have heard had come
upon the world.[44] Among these there were some who augmented the real
terrors by others imaginary or wilfully invented. I remember some who
declared that one part of Misenum had fallen, that another was on fire;
it was false, but they found people to believe them. It now grew rather
lighter, which we imagined to be rather the forerunner of an approaching
burst of flames--as in truth it was--than the return of day: however,
the fire fell at a distance from us: then again we were immersed in
thick darkness, and a heavy shower of ashes rained upon us, which we
were obliged every now and then to stand up to shake off, otherwise we
should have been crushed and buried in the heap.

I might boast that, during all this scene of horror, not a sigh or
expression of fear escaped me, had not my support been grounded in that
miserable, though mighty, consolation, that all mankind were involved in
the same calamity, and that I was perishing with the world itself. At
last this dreadful darkness was dissipated by degrees, like a cloud or
smoke; the real day returned, and even the sun shone out, though with a
lurid light, like when an eclipse is coming on. Every object that
presented itself to our eyes--which were extremely weakened--seemed
changed, being covered deep with ashes as if with snow.

We returned to Misenum, where we refreshed ourselves as well as we
could, and passed an anxious night between hope and fear; though,
indeed, with a much larger share of the latter; for the earthquake still
continued, while many frenzied persons ran up and down, heightening
their own and their friends' calamities by terrible predictions.
However, my mother and I, notwithstanding the danger we had passed and
that which still threatened us, had no thoughts of leaving the place
till we could receive some news of my uncle.

And now you will read this narrative without any view of inserting it in
your history, of which it is not in the least worthy; and indeed you
must put it down to your own request if it should appear not worth even
the trouble of a letter. Farewell.

LORD EDWARD BULWER-LYTTON

The Amphitheatre at Pompeii was crowded to the doors. A lion was at
large in the arena, and