[Illustration:  THE AMPHITHEATRE OF POMPEII.]

We visit this place last because it was while the amphitheatre was crowded with people intent upon the bloody spectacle; while wild beasts, and men more cruel than the beasts, were fighting together, and spectators less pitiful than either were greedily enjoying it, that suddenly the ground trembled violently.  This perhaps was not perceived in the circus, on account of the excitement all were in, and the noise that was going on in the arena.  But it was soon followed by a whirlwind of ashes, and lurid flashes of flame darted across the sky.  The beasts were instantly tamed, and cowered down in abject terror, and the gladiators, for the first time in their lives, grew pale with fear.  Then the startled crowd within the vast building heard from the streets the fearful cry:  “Vesuvius is on fire!” In an instant the spectacle is forgotten; the terrified crowd rush out of the building, and happy is it for them that the architects have provided so many places of exit.  Some fled towards the sea, and some to the open country.  Those who reached the ships were saved, but woe to those who went to their homes to collect their valuables to take with them, or who took refuge under cover in the cellars.

After the rain of ashes came a shower of blazing stones, which fell uninterruptedly, setting fire to all parts of the city and blocking up the streets with burning masses.  And then a fresh storm of ashes sweeping down would partly smother the flames, but, blocking up the doorways, would stifle those within the houses.  And to add to the horror, the volumes of smoke that poured from the mountain caused a darkness deeper than night to settle on the doomed city, through which the people groped their way, except when lighted by the burning houses.  What horror and confusion in the streets!  Friends seeking each other with faces of utter despair; the groans of the dying mingled with the crash of falling buildings; the pelting of the fiery stones; the shrieks of women and children; the terrific peals of thunder.

So ended the day, and the dreadful scene went on far into the night.  In a few hours the silence of death fell upon the city.  The ashes continued to pour steadily down upon it, and drifting into every crevice of the buildings, and settling like a closely-fitting shroud around the thousands and thousands of dead bodies, preserved all that the flames had spared for the eyes of the curious who should live centuries after.  And a gray ashy hill blotted out Pompeii from the sight of that generation.

Hundreds of skeletons have already been found, and their expressive attitudes tell us the story of their death.  We know of the pitiful avarice and vanity of many of the rich ladies who went to their homes to save their jewels, and fell with them clutched tightly in their hands.  One woman in the house of the Faun was loaded with jewels, and had died in the vain effort to hold up with her outstretched arms the ceiling