THE BURIED CITY
Edith and Rafael planned their trip to the top of Vesuvius for many
days before the right morning finally arrived.
"The right morning is a bright morning," sang Edith one evening as she
looked out at the stars; "and to-morrow will bring a bright morning,"
she added, so positively that Mrs. Sprague sent Rafael to buy the
tickets, in order that they might be ready for an early start.
Although it was the last week in December the air was soft and warm,
and the sun shone with the brightness of summer.
From Naples to the foot of Mt. Vesuvius there was first a drive of
several hours, after which they went up to the crater over an inclined
railway.
"It is like looking at the entrance to the underworld," said Edith, as
they looked down into the great chasm which holds so much mystery and
terror; and she was glad to take the train back to the foot of the
mountain.
As they stood looking at the great beds of lava which poured down the
sides of the mountain many years ago, Edith exclaimed, "How can any
one dare to live near the volcano?"
Rafael turned to a peasant whose little farm was not far away, and
asked him if he ever felt free from danger.
"Ah, no!" the man answered, lifting sad eyes and hands to heaven.
"When I go to sleep at night I think always, before the light of the
morning, the mountain, he may send his fire and stones to crush us
all; who knows?"
"Why did the people of Pompeii live so near to Vesuvius, if they knew
it might bury them?" Edith asked impatiently.
"They did not know it in the days when Pompeii was built," Rafael told
her. "Vesuvius was supposed to be an extinct volcano then. It had not
said a word for hundreds of years. Everything about it was green and
beautiful, and its slopes were covered with forests and vineyards. It
is not strange that people built the two cities near its base."
"What other city was built, besides Pompeii?" asked the girl.
"Herculaneum," answered Rafael. "None of the people felt any fear of
danger in the two cities, although an earthquake destroyed some of the
buildings in the reign of Nero.
"But in the year 79 A. D., Vesuvius suddenly woke up, and there was a
fearful eruption. Ashes and rocks were thrown out of the crater with
great force, and hot lava poured down the side of the mountain. The
two cities at the foot were completely buried under the ashes, and
thousands of people were killed."
"There was an eruption in 1906, which made many people homeless," said
Mrs. Sprague, "and no one knows when there may be another.
"Pompeii lay buried for seventeen centuries, and people forgot that
there had been such a city; when, after a long time, a farmer who was
digging for a well discovered the ruins, and since then a part of each
city has been excavated."
"I should like to know just how the people of Pompeii lived, and what
they were doing when the city was destroyed," said Edith.
"You shall see the relics that were taken from the ruins and are now
in the museum at Naples," her mother told her. "The life of the old
Pompeiians has been studied from those relics and a guide can tell you
just how they did their housekeeping and what their life was like."
Before she left America, Edith had looked forward to the smoking
mountain of Vesuvius and the city of Pompeii as being the most
wonderful part of her journey. The volcano, and the city which lay
buried under ashes for centuries, had been the goal of her desires.
"Wait until we see Vesuvius and Pompeii!" had been her cry whenever
she wrote home. "Then I shall have something to tell you!"
But she turned her face away from the forbidding crater and the
desolate beds of lava with a feeling of disappointment that was half
fear.
"Perhaps I shall like better to go into the museum and see the curious
things that were found in Pompeii," she said, as she searched for a
bit of lava from which to have a piece of jewelry fashioned.
"Just think of having the whole world interested to know how the
people baked their bread so long ago," said Rafael; and when they had
returned to Naples, the children found it very interesting to visit
the museum and imagine how the people lived in the time of Christ.
Then one day they went down to the ruined city, riding in a small car
over a roadbed so loosely made that Rafael laughed about it, and Edith
said it was only a toy journey.
But when they went through the sea-gate at Pompeii, passed the army of
boys bearing baskets of earth from the excavations, and stood in the
silent streets, Edith drew closer to her mother, and Rafael walked
quietly beside them.
[Illustration: "THE ARMY OF BOYS BEARING BASKETS OF EARTH FROM THE
EXCAVATIONS AT POMPEII" ]
They followed the instructions of the guide and looked obediently
at the deep ruts made in the pavements of the narrow streets by the
old Roman chariot wheels. They walked through the forum, and stood in
the ruined amphitheatre.
At last Edith drew Mrs. Sprague into the lonely angle of a wall where
they could see nothing of the crumbled houses all about them, the
pavements, or the great stepping-stones in the streets.
"I want to go home," she said with a shudder. "I never want to see
Vesuvius again."
She was plainly homesick. It was a sudden ending to the "long thoughts
of youth" which had filled so many hours with bright anticipations;
but she was in such a hurry to get away from the buried city that they
took the next train back to Naples without even stopping to buy
picture postcards of the ruins.
When they reached their hotel in Naples they found a foreign war-ship
anchored in the bay.
"There is the old man-of-war threatening us from the land, and here is
one in the bay," exclaimed Edith. "It makes me nervous!"
Mrs. Sprague saw that her daughter was tired. "We will go back to Rome
to-morrow," she said.
"But I want to buy a lottery ticket before we leave Naples," said the
girl.
"Befana will fill your stockings with ashes if you do," said Rafael.
"Everybody in Italy buys lottery tickets. Why should not I?" asked
Edith perversely.
"I do it not," said Rafael shortly.
"That is because your wonderful king does not believe in it," she
answered.
"Is that not a good reason?" asked the boy. He looked at her with the
same expression he wore in Venice, when she spoke slightingly of the
superstitions of his country, and as she knew him better now, she
laughed and agreed with him.
"I did not really mean to do it," she said, and added, "Tell me more
about Befana."
"How I used to shake in my bed when I heard her bell ring!" he said
with a laugh.
"Did you really hear it ring?" asked Edith.
He looked at her drolly, answering, "Of course I heard her bell. And
often I heard the sheep talking to one another on Twelfth-night; or at
least I thought I did."
"Truly?" asked Edith in great delight.
He nodded, smiling mischievously at her unexpected pleasure in hearing
of the Italian superstitions.
Befana is the Italian Lady Santa Claus. She is quite different from
the fat, jolly man who drives his reindeer over the roofs at Christmas
time.
While Sir Santa is short and rosy, Befana is dark and tall; and while
the kind old gentleman leaves something in every stocking, good and
bad alike, this rather terrible old lady puts presents only in the
good children's stockings, and drops bags of ashes into the others.
Instead of happening at Christmas, as with us, the Italian festival is
celebrated on the eve of Epiphany, the sixth of January.
"Everyone is happy then," said Rafael, "and we shall forget Pompeii
and the man-of-war which is always threatening it."
So the children began at once to plan for the Twelfth-night festival.
"Mother and I will make some peasant costumes for us to wear," Edith
told Rafael, and added, "or you might wear a soldier's uniform and a
cocked hat. The soldiers look so fine and march so well in Italy!"
"Come children, it is time to go to bed if we are to take the early
morning train to Rome," interrupted Mrs. Sprague, who had been
studying a time-table; and the children separated, little dreaming
that every plan would soon be changed.