gorgeous temple is a Christian Cathedral
dedicated to a follower of the despised Jewish captive; the name of
Caligula lives but in human execration, whilst that of the Apostle is
enshrined in the hearts of the whole Christian world.

* * * * * *

It is but a three-mile walk along the beach from Pozzuoli to Baiae,
passing beside the Lucrine Lake and the southern slope of the Monte Nuovo,
which always seems to us a far more wonderful freak of Nature than the
Solfatara. Here we have a miniature mountain, a mile and a half round its
base and nearly five hundred feet high, that was made in the course of a
single night, and is to-day less than four hundred years old! The presence
of this brand-new intruder on the shore of the Baiaean Gulf must ever
remain a wholesome warning to all dwellers on these coasts, that their
tenure of King Pluto's dominions is very insecure. One morning towards the
close of September 1538, after some days of earthquake shocks, "Pozzuoli
awoke," says the flippant Alexandre Dumas, "and on looking about did not
recognise herself! She had left a lake the evening before, and lo! she
found a mountain; where she had owned a forest, she found ashes; and last
of all, where she had left a village, she perceived no trace!"

In one sense Dumas' facetious description is correct: the New Mountain was
born with extraordinary celerity, and woods, lake and village--familiar and
beloved landmarks to the people of Baiae and Pozzuoli--disappeared at its
birth. But the event was no peaceful act of Nature; on the contrary, it
was accompanied by loud rumblings, by showers of red-hot stones, by clouds
of smoke, by torrents of scalding water, and by the retreating of the sea,
which left thousands of fish lying helpless on the exposed shore. The
village of Tripergola, a summer pleasaunce of the Angevin kings of Naples,
and many traces of ancient Roman villas and engineering works, all
perished in this notable cataclysm. Four eye-witnesses have left us
details of this strange scene of desolation, whilst only a few days after
Mother Earth had brought forth this new mountain, one of them, the Spanish
Viceroy of Naples, the valiant Don Pedro of Toledo, owned sufficient pluck
and curiosity to make the ascent of the Monte Nuovo, still smoking hot and
reeking of sulphur. Who can tell when this _parvenu_ volcano may spout
forth fire and ashes? Would any sane person have the courage ever to
settle