giant
refreshed, and fell to on his provender most voraciously. This scene
reminded me of one I had often witnessed at the Cape of Good Hope, where
sand is often similarly used as an excellent and economical substitute
for grooming--the sand absorbs the perspiration, and is most refreshing
to the poor beasts.

Passing up the hillside through a little plantation at the back of the
restaurant, we soon came to the military station of specially selected
soldiers, who have the care of the ruins and at the same time act as
guides to the visitors. Fortunately, we chanced upon a very intelligent
and obliging fellow, who spoke English fluently--a sergeant, who,
without being loquacious, was sufficiently communicative to make an
agreeable companion and cicerone.

Paying an entrance-fee of two lire each, we passed through the
turnstile, and were soon quite absorbed in the ruins around us. The
Italian Government, bearing all the expense of disentombing Pompeii,
probably look to recoup themselves by the entrance-fees of the numerous
visitors who flock to see the long-buried city.

We saw gangs of men and boys clearing away great mounds of pumice and
dark lava mould from the ancient streets, which had not seen the light
for eighteen centuries, and over which the vine had been planted, and
the corn had waved through many generations. It has been demonstrated by
an examination of the older crater, that in the great eruption of
A.D. 79 Vesuvius first threw up its superficial contents--and,
in fact, the very crust of the mountain itself, which, being of a light
friable nature, blew over to the more distant city of Pompeii,
accompanied by showers of hot water--and it was after this first
outbreak that a flood of molten lava poured in a torrent over the nearer
city, and enfolded Herculaneum in a bed of rock. There is evidence that
Pompeii had been warned of the impending disaster by an earthquake; we
have no means yet of knowing whether Herculaneum received a similar
warning, but the probability is that it was overwhelmed with awful
suddenness.

Pompeii now reposes on an elevated grassy plain, partly encircled by
fine ranges of hills, which on the eastern side stretch out towards
Castellamare, and at the present time have one or two of their loftiest
summits topped with snow. It is now some two or three miles from the
sea, which is supposed to have receded at the time of the eruption, for
Pompeii, when entombed, was a fashionable wat