fying, and who had really no
knowledge of immortality!" said Mrs. Lansdowne.

"Yes", replied John. "And with nothing brighter or more glorious to
look forward to in the beyond, how reluctant they must have felt to
leave these glowing skies, this delicious air, these scenes of beauty
and art, for the darkness of the grave. I fancy it must have been
harder for them than if they had been surrounded with the sombre
tints, the chilling atmosphere, and the more subdued forms of life in
our own clime".

Leaving the cemetery, they passed on through the narrow streets, paved
with blocks of lava, on which were the traces of carriage wheels worn
into the material more than eighteen hundred years ago. They went into
the Pompeian houses, walked over the marble mosaic floors, looked at
the paintings on the walls, examined the bronzes, the statues, the
domestic utensils, the shop of the oil merchant, with his name on it
still legible, until, in imagination, they began to people the
solitude,--bringing back the gay, luxurious, beauty-loving Pompeians
again to live and revel in their former haunts.

At length, quite exhausted, Mrs. Lansdowne sank down on a seat in one
of the porticoes, and John, placing himself by her side, tempted her
to partake of a lunch he had provided for the occasion.

Soon, the pensive influences of the scene stole over them, and they
sat for some time in perfect silence.

Mrs. Lansdowne first interrupted it, by exclaiming, "John, what are
you thinking of?"

"Thinking of! why I was thinking just then how those Pompeians used to
sit in these porticoes and talk of the deeds of Caesar and of the
eloquence of Cicero, while those renowned men were yet living, and how
they discussed the great combats in the amphitheatres of Rome. And
what were you cogitating, my dear mother?" said he, smiling.

"Oh! I was thinking woman's thoughts. How slowly they excavate here! I
have an extreme curiosity to know what there is, yet uncovered to the
light of day, beyond that dead wall of ashes".

"If I were a magician, I would apply to your eyes some unguent, which
should unveil what is there concealed", said John, smiling. "Will you
go now to the theatre?"

He drew his mother's arm within his, and they moved on. That portion
of the city appeared as if it had been partially destroyed by a
conflagration.

Looking towards Vesuvius, he said, "I can easily imagine the
sensations of those who gazed at the volcano on that terrib