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danger, yet being in view of it, and extremely near, if it should in the least increase, he was determined to put to sea as soon as the wind should change. Pomponianus, his friend, embraced him, and they both tried to keep up their spirits.

" In the meantime the eruption got much worse, and it being now night, looked much more dreadful; but still Pliny went to bed. However, as the court which led to his room was now nearly filled with stones and ashes, they thought they must waken him, or he would never make his way out.

« My uncle got up, and went to Pomponianus and the rest of his company, who were not unconcerned enough to think of going to bed. They consulted whether it would be most prudent to trust to the houses, which now shook from side to side with frequent and violent shocks, or to fly to the open fields, where the stones and cinders yet fell in large showers, and threatened destruction. In this distress they resolved for the fields, as the less dangerous situation of the two.

They accordingly went, having pillows tied upon their heads with napkins, and this was their whole defence against the storm of stones that fell around them. It was now day everywhere else, but there a deeper darkness prevailed than in the most obscure night, which was, however, in some degree dissipated by torches. They thought proper to go down further upon the shore, to see if they might safely put out to sea; but they found the waves still ran extremely high and boisterous. Then my uncle, having drunk a draught or two of cold water, threw himself upon a cloth which was spread for him, when immediately the flames, and a strong smell of sulphur, which was the forerunner of them, drove away the rest of the company, and obliged him to get up.

He raised himself up by the help of two of his servants, and instantly fell down dead, suffocated, as I believe, by some poisonous and hurtful vapour, having always had weak lungs, and being frequently subject to a difficulty of breathing.

“ As soon as it was light again, which was not till the third day after this unhappy accident, his body was found, without any marks of violence upon it, exactly in the same position as when he fell, and looking more like a man asleep than dead."

53.-A WALK IN A CHURCHYARD.

mourn-ful.ly joy-ous

fu-ner-al nois-y

for-get-ting ex-ult-ing We walked within the churchyard bounds,

My little boy and I-
He laughing, running happy rounds,

I pacing mournfully.
“My child, it is not well,” I said,

“ Among the graves to shout;

To laugh and play among the dead,

And make this noisy ront.”

A moment to my side he clung,

Leaving his merry play-
A moment stilled his joyous tongue,

Almost as hushed as they.

Then, quite forgetting the command,

In life's exulting burst
Of early glee, let go my hand,

Joyous as at the first.

And now I did not check him more;

For, taught by Nature's face, I had grown wiser than before,

Even in that moment's space.

She spread no funeral pall above

That patch of churchyard ground, But the same vault of azure love

As hung o'er all around.

And white clouds o'er that space would pass

As freely as elsewhere;
The sunshine on no other grass

A richer hue might wear.

And formed from out that very mould

In which the dead did lie, The daisy, with its eye of gold,

Looked up into the sky.

The rook was wheeling overhead,

Nor hastened to be gone;
The small bird did its glad notes shed,

Perched on a grey headstone.

And God, I said, would never give

This light upon the earth,
Nor bid in childhood's heart to live

These springs of gushing mirth,

If our true wisdom were to mourn

And linger with the dead-
To muse, as wisest thoughts forlorn,

Of worm, and earthy bed.

Oh no; the glory earth puts on,

The child's unchecked delight, Both witness to a triumph won,

If we but judge aright.

A triumph won o'er sin and death;

From these the Saviour saves; And like a happy infant, Faith Cau play among the graves.

Archbishop Trench.

54.—THE ERUPTION OF MOUNT

VESUVIUS IN 1872.

PART 1.

cra-ter

a-larm-ing trif-ling

ac-cus-tom-ed peaks

know-ledge scorch-ing threat-en-ed vi-o-lence Mount Vesuvius is about six or seven miles from Naples, and when it is in a state of repose, does not look a very alarming neighbour. It is a high mountain with two peaks, and from one of them, which is rather flat at the top, you may always see smoke rising. This is what is called the “ crater.' Seen from below, the smoke looks a mere trifling puff, and as it often remains in the same state for months and years together, the people living all around are quite accustomed to it; and though they know that this quiet-looking mountain sometimes bursts forth in flame and fury, this knowledge does not deter them from building houses at its foot and on its sides, buying land, sowing corn, and planting vineyards, although, of course, a very few hours' eruption might destroy all their property. When it is in a state of eruption, streams of lava pour forth from the opening at the top, or crater, and cover up all their land, burying their houses, corn, and vineyards under a fiery deluge. Lava, is melted rock in a state of red heat. It cools and hardens in time, and when quite hard, you may again build on the top of it, but never again plant vineyards, or reap corn. Torre del

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