utheastwardly along the shore of the bay and then, winding inland,
completely encircles the mountain. This is dotted with villages, all
within hearing of the volcanic rumblings and bellowings.

Four miles down the bay road from Naples lies Portici, its 12,000
population dwelling upon lava thrown down to the sea by the eruption
of 1631. On this black bed stands the royal palace, built by Charles
III. in 1738. Resina, one mile further, is the favorite suburban seat
of wealthy Neapolitans. Its 14,000 residents dwell partly upon the
ruins of Herculaneum and of Retina, to which latter city Pliny the
elder set out during the great eruption which destroyed these cities
and Pompeii.

The colossal brazier of Mount Vesuvius dealt most awfully and
destructively with the towns on its declivities and near its base. The
inhabitants of those villages naturally became panic-stricken and
abandoned their homes for the open, although the atmosphere was dense
with volcanic ashes and the sulphur fumes of subterranean fires. The
people, so long as they dared remain near their homes, crowded the
churches day and night, praying for deliverance from the impending
peril, manifestations of which were hourly heard and felt in
explosions which resembled a heavy cannonade, and in the tremblings of
the earth, which were constantly recurring.

The intense heat of the lava destroyed vegetation before the stream
reached it. The peasants of Portici, at the west foot of Vesuvius,
cleared their grounds of vineyards and trees in the effort to lessen
the danger from the fire and resist the progress of the lava to the
utmost.

The streams of lava became resistless. They snapped like pipe stems
the trunks of chestnut trees hundreds of years old and blighted with
their torrid breath the blooms on the peach trees before the trees
themselves had been reached. The molten streams did not spare the
homes of the peasants, and when these have been razed they dash into
the wells, as though seeking to slake their thirst, and, having
filled them, continue their course down the mountain side.

Everywhere in the vicinity of the volcano pitiful scenes were
witnessed--women tearing their hair in their grief and old men crying
aloud at the loss of their beloved homesteads, while in the distance,
in striking contrast, were the sapphire-colored Mediterranean, the
violet-hued mountains of the Sorrento peninsula and the island of
Capri in the tranquil sea.

The town of Bo