gh, with a central depression about three miles in
diameter at the top, and perhaps two miles over at the bottom, which
was plainlike in form, with some lakes of bitter water in the centre.
The most we know of this central cavity is connected with the
insurrection of the slaves led by Spartacus, the army of the revolters
having camped for a time on the plain encircled by the crater walls.
The outer slopes of the mountain afforded then a remarkably fertile
soil; some traces, indeed, of the fertility have withstood the modern
eruptions which have desolated its flanks. This wonderful Bay of
Naples became the seat of the fairest Roman culture, as well as of a
very extended commerce. Toward the close of the first century of our
era the region was perhaps richer, more beautifully cultivated, and
the seat of a more elaborate luxury than any part of the shore line of
Europe at the present day. At the foot of the mountain, on the eastern
border of the bay, the city of Pompeii, with a population of about
fifty thousand souls, was a considerable port, with an extensive
commerce, particularly with Egypt. The charming town was also a place
of great resort for rich Egyptians who cared to dwell in Europe. On
the flanks of the mountain there was at least one large town,
Herculaneum, which appears to have been an association of rich men's
residences. On the eastern side of the bay, at a point now known as
Baiae, the Roman Government had a naval station, which in the year 79
was under the command of the celebrated Pliny, a most voluminous
though unscientific writer on matters of natural history. With him in
that year there was his nephew, commonly known as the younger Pliny,
then a student of eighteen years, but afterward himself an author.
These facts are stated in some detail, for they are all involved in
the great tragedy which we are now to describe.

For many years there had been no eruption about the Bay of Naples. The
volcanoes on Ischia had been still for a century or more, and the
various circular openings on the mainland had been so far quiet that
they were not recognised as volcanoes. Even the inquisitive Pliny,
with his great learning, was so little of a geologist that he did not
know the signs which indicate the seat of volcanic action, though they
are among the most conspicuous features which can meet the eye. The
Greeks would doubtless have recognised the meaning of these physical
signs. In the year 63 the shores of the Ba