family sepulchres stands a small semi-circular room, intended for the funeral feast after a burial; and here were found the remains of three men around a table, scattered with relics of a meal. They were overwhelmed ere their feast was concluded over the dead!

The principal inn of Pompeii was just inside the gate. We went over the ruins of it. The skeleton of an ass was found chained to a ring in the stable, and the tire of a wheel lay in the court yard. Chequers are painted on the side of the door, as a sign.

Below the tombs stands the "suburban villa of Diomed," one of the most sumptuous edifices of Pompeii. Here was found everything that the age could furnish for the dwelling of a man of wealth. Statues, frescoes, jewels, wine, household utensils of every description, skeletons of servants and dogs, and every kind of elegant furniture. The family was large, and in the first moment of terror, they all retreated to a wine vault under the villa, where their skeletons (eighteen grown persons and two children) were found seventeen centuries after! There was really something startling in walking through the deserted rooms of this beautiful villa-more than one feels elsewhere in Pompeii, for it is more like the elegance and taste of our own day; and with the brightness of the preserved walls, and the certainty with which the use of each room is ascertained, it seems as if the living inhabitant would step from some corner and welcome you. The figures on the walls are as fresh as if done yesterday. The baths look as if they might scarce be dry from use. It seems incredible that the whole Christian age has elapsed since this was a human dwelling-occupied by its last family while our Savior was walking the world!

It would be tedious to enumerate all the curious places to which the guide led us in this extraordinary city. On our return through the streets, among the objects of interest was the house of Sallust, the historian. I did not think, when reading his beautiful Latin at school, that I should ever sit down in his parlor! Sallust was rich, and his house is uncommonly handsome. Here is his chamber, his inner court, his kitchen, his garden, his dining-room, his guest-chamber, all perfectly distinguishable by the symbolical frescoes on the wall. In the court was a fountain of pretty construction, and opposite, in the rear, was a flower-garden, containing arrangements for dining in open air in summer. The skeleton of a female (supposed to be the wife of the historian) and three servants, known by their different ornaments, were found near the door of the street.

We passed a druggist's shop and a cook-shop, and entered, treading on a beautiful mosaic floor, the "house of the dramatic poet," so named, from the character of the paintings with which it is ornamented throughout. The frescoes found here are the finest ancient paintings in the world, and from some peculiarity in the rings upon the fingers of the female figures, they are supposed to be family portraits. With assistance like this, how easily the imagination repeoples these deserted dwellings!

A heavy shower drove us to the shelter of the wine-vaults of Diomed, as we were about stepping into our carriage to return to Naples. We spent the time in exploring, and found some thirty or forty earthern jars still half-buried in the ashes which drifted through the loop-holes of the cellar. In another half hour the black cloud had passed away over Vesuvius, and the sun set behind Posilipo in a flood of splendor. We were at home soon after dark, having had our fill of astonishment for once. I have

seen nothing in my life so remarkable as this disentombed city. I have passed over, in the description, many things which were well worth noting, but it would have grown into a mere catalogue else. You should come to Italy. It is a privilege to realize these things which could not be bought too dearly, and they cannot be realized but by the eye. Description conveys but a poor shadow of them to the fancy

LETTER III.

Account of Vesuvius--The Hermitage-The famous Lagrima Christi-Difficulties of the Path-Curious Appearance of the Old Crater-Odd Assemblage of Travellers-Tho New Crater-Splendid Prospect-Mr. Mathias, Author of the Pursuits of LiteratureThe Archbishop of Tarento.

MOUNTED upon asses much smaller than their riders, and with each a barelegged driver behind, we commenced the ascent of Vesuvius. It was a troublesome path worn through the rough scoria of old eruptions, and after two hours' toiling, we were

glad to dismount at "the hermitage."

Here lives a capuchin

friar on a prominent rib in the side of the volcano, the red-hot lava dividing above his dwelling every year or two, and coursing away to the valley in two rivers of fire on either side of him. supports himself, and

He has been there twelve years, and probably half the brotherhood at the monastery, by selling lagrima Christi to strangers. It is a small white building with a little grass and a few trees about it, and looks like an island in the black waste of cinders and lava.

A shout from the guide was answered by the opening of a small window above, and the shaven crown of the old friar was thrust forth with a welcome and a request that we would mount the stairs to the parlor. He received us at the top, and gave us chairs around a plain board table, upon which he set several

bottles of the far-famed wine of Vesuvius.

One drinks it, and blesses the volcano that warmed the roots of the grape. It is a ripe, rich, full-bodied liquor, which "ascends me into the brain" sooner than any continental wine I have tasted. I never drank anything more delicious.

We remounted our asses and rode on, much more indifferent than before, to the roughness of the path. It strikes one like the road to the infernal regions. No grass, not a shrub, nothing but a wide mountain of cinders, black and rugged, diversified only by the deeper die of the newer streaks of lava. The eye wearied of gazing on it. We mounted thus for an hour or more, arriving at last at the base of a lofty cone whose sides were but slopes of deep ashes. We left our donkeys here in company with those of a large party that had preceded us, and made preparations to ascend on foot. The drivers unlaced their sashes, and passing them round the waists of the ladies, took the ends over their shoulders, and proceeded. Harder work could scarce be conceived. The feet had no hold, sinking knee-deep at every step, and we slipped back so much, that our progress was almost imperceptible. The ladies were soon tired out, although more than half dragged up by the guides. At every few steps there was a general cry for a halt, and we lay down in the warm ashes, quite breathless and discouraged.

In something more than an hour from the hermitage we reached the edge of the old crater. The scene here was very curious. A hollow, perhaps a mile round, composed entirely of scoria (like the cinders under a blacksmith's window) contained in its centre the sharp new cone of the last eruption. Around, in various directions, sat some thirty groups of travellers, with