Smelling.

I propose to give my readers some remarks upon the five senses; and I shall begin with smelling. The seat of this sense is the nose, and the chief instrument by which it operates is a soft membrane, lining the interior of the nostrils. This is covered over with an infinite number of organs, too delicate to be seen by the naked eye, called the olfactory nerves. As the brain is the seat of the mind, these nerves extend to it, and convey to that organ every impression that is made upon them. The nerves are like sentinels or messengers stationed in all parts of the body, whose duty it is to communicate to the seat of power—to the brain, and thus to the intellect—everything that happens to the body. Thus, if you pinch your finger, or stub your toe, or put your hand in the fire, or taste of an apple, the nerves carry the story to the mind; and thus it is that we feel and find out what is going on.

So it is with the olfactory nerves; they have the power of perceiving what effluvia is in the air, and they tell the mind of it. At first thought, it might not seem that smelling was a very important sense. The lady in the preceding picture appears to think that the nose is made only that she may enjoy the perfume of the rose; and there are others who take a very different view of the matter. I once knew a fellow who insisted upon it that there were more bad smells than good ones in the world, and therefore he said that the sense of smelling was a nuisance, as it brought more pain than pleasure. I am inclined to think that this view was not singular, for I know several people who go about with their noses curled up, as if some bad odor was always distressing them. I make it a point, when I meet such discontented people, to cross over, and go along on t’other side of the way.

But, however others may feel, I maintain that the nose is, on the whole, a good thing—that smelling is a convenient sense, and that we could not get along very well without it. Let us consider the matter.

It must be remarked, in the first place, that in man, as well as animals, the sense of smelling is placed very near the sense of taste and the organs of eating. We may, therefore, infer that smelling is a guide to us in the choice of food; that what is of a good flavor, in general, is wholesome, and that what is of an offensive smell is unwholesome. The fact, doubtless, is, that we abuse the sense of smelling so much by the artificial tastes we cultivate, by eating spices and pickles, and a great variety of condiments, that it ceases to aid us as much as nature intended it should. Brutes, who never eat cooked dishes, composed of twenty different ingredients, have not their senses thus blunted and corrupted. The cow, the sheep, the horse, all are guided, as they graze among a thousand kinds of herbs, by the certain and effectual power of smell, to choose those which are wholesome, and to reject those which are hurtful. Now if mankind were as natural and simple in their habits as these animals, no doubt the sense of smell would be a good counsellor as to what food is good and what is bad.

There is one very curious thing to be noticed here, which is, that what is pleasant to one is offensive to another. Now putrid meat is wholesome to a dog; it sets well upon his stomach; and accordingly it smells good to him. But such food would produce disease in man; and to him the smell of it is loathsome. This shows, very clearly, that the sense of smell is a kind of adviser to tell creatures how to select their food. It also induces us to avoid places where the air is tainted or impure; for we are liable to contract diseases in such an atmosphere. Thus it is obvious that the sense of smelling is important not only as a guide to health, but as a guardian against disease and death.

In many animals the sense of smell is very acute. The dog will trace his master’s footsteps, by the scent alone, through the streets of a city, and amid a thousand other footsteps; he will follow the track of the fox, or the hare, or the bird, for hours after it has passed along. The vulture scents the carrion for miles; and the wolf, the hyæna, and the jackal, seem to possess a similar acuteness of scent.

While the sense of smell is thus sharp in some animals, others, which need it less, possess it in an inferior degree. Fishes have only a simple cavity on each side of the nose, through which water, impregnated with odors, flows, and communicates the sensation of smell. Many of the inferior animals, as worms, reptiles, and insects, have still less perfect organs of sensation, and probably possess the sense of smell only to a corresponding extent.

Cortez enters the city of Mexico.—​Meeting with Montezuma.—​Cortez seizes the emperor.—​Effect on the Mexicans.—​Cortez is attacked by the Mexicans, and Montezuma dies.—​Cortez retreats from the city.—​Is victorious in a battle.—​Obtains possession of Mexico.

After remaining about twenty days in Tlascala, to recruit the strength of his soldiers, Cortez resumed his march for the capital. The emperor, convinced by the fate which had overtaken the Tlascalans that it would be vain to oppose the advance of so powerful an embassy, consented at last to receive them into the city, and to allow them an audience. The Spaniards accordingly advanced with great care, for fear of surprise, and at last began to cross the causeway which led to Mexico, through the lake.

As they drew near the city, they were met by a magnificent procession, in which Montezuma appeared, seated on a litter, which was carried on the shoulders of four of his chief favorites. He received Cortez with the greatest respect, and conducted him to a palace, built by his father, where he invited him to take up his abode. It was of stone, and so large that the whole Spanish force was quartered in it.

After remaining quiet several days, during which he had several interviews with the emperor, and had time to perceive the extent and grandeur of the city, Cortez began to reflect on the danger of his situation. Shut up, with a handful of men, in a vast city, whose sovereign was perhaps only restrained by fear from inflicting punishment on his audacious visiters, he saw that, should they once lose their hold on the mind of the king, they would be in the utmost peril from his resentment at their open contempt of his authority. Accordingly he resolved to render himself secure by a bold and ingenious plan. He determined to induce the emperor, by entreaties or force, to take up his residence in the Spanish quarters, where he would always be in their power. The next day, therefore, proceeding to the palace, accompanied by a few of his officers, he demanded and obtained a private interview with the emperor; and at last, by assurances of safety if he complied, and threats of immediate death if he refused, he prevailed upon him to trust himself in the hands of the Spaniards.

The dejected king was carried to the residence of Cortez by his weeping attendants, who naturally suspected that he was to be held in custody, as a hostage for the safety of his jailers. They did not, however, dare to oppose the will of their sovereign; and Montezuma remained thenceforth a close prisoner in the hands of Cortez. Still he was treated by the Spaniards with all the respect due to his rank, and the operations of government went on as usual, under the name of Montezuma, but principally according to the directions of Cortez. By means of the power thus acquired, Cortez was able to collect a large amount of gold and silver from the royal treasuries, which appeared to the troops sufficient to repay them for all the toils and hardships which they had undergone; but when two fifths had been subtracted for the king and Cortez, together with the sums spent in fitting out the expedition, the share of a private soldier was found to be so small, that many rejected it with disdain, and all murmured loudly at the cruel disappointment—a just punishment for the greedy avarice which had prompted the undertaking.

In this state matters remained for about six months. Montezuma now reminded his visiters, that since they had obtained all that they required, it was time for them to depart from the capital. Cortez was not then in a situation openly to oppose this request. He, therefore, in order to gain time for reinforcements to arrive from Spain, replied that he intended to depart as soon as he should be able to build a sufficient number of ships, in place of those which had been burnt. This appeared so reasonable to the king, that he ordered him to be supplied with all the materials that he might want for this purpose.

While Cortez was in this state of suspense, he received the unwelcome news that a body of Spaniards, more than a thousand in number, had landed on the coast, sent by the governor of Cuba, who was his enemy, with orders to deprive him of his power, and send him, bound, to Cuba, to receive punishment as a traitor to his sovereign. This was a critical moment; but Cortez was not a man to be discouraged by any danger. He left a hundred and fifty men in the capital, directing them to keep a most watchful eye upon the king, and to use every means to preserve the city quiet during his absence. He then marched with the utmost celerity to the place where his enemies were encamped, took them by surprise, and made them all prisoners, with the loss of only two men. He then, by kind and friendly treatment, and glowing descriptions of the riches which they would obtain under his command, prevailed upon the whole army to enlist under his banners.

With this welcome reinforcement, he returned to Mexico, as hastily as he came; for he had received from Alvarado the alarming intelligence, that, in consequence of the cruelty of the Spaniards, the inhabitants had risen upon them, killed several, wounded more, and were closely besieging them in their quarters. Cortez, however, was suffered to enter the city unopposed. He was received by his countrymen with transports of joy, but he found that the reverence, with which the Mexicans once regarded him, was gone. The very next day, they attacked him with the utmost fury, and were not repulsed without the greatest difficulty. Two sallies, which the Spaniards afterwards made, were ineffectual.

Cortez now resolved to try a new expedient. When the Mexicans approached, the next morning, to renew the assault, they beheld their captive sovereign, who, in his royal robes, advanced to the battlements, and, while every tongue was mute, addressed them in behalf of the Spaniards, and exhorted them to cease from hostilities. For a moment, a profound silence reigned; but the Mexicans had lost the reverence which they bore toward their monarch, and they soon broke out into loud reproaches and execration of his cowardice. A volley of stones and arrows succeeded, one of which struck Montezuma on the temple, and he fell. The Mexicans, seized with horror and remorse at the effects of their rage, fled in terror from the walls. The unhappy king was borne to his apartments by his attendants, who strove to console him for his misfortune; but in vain. Broken-hearted at the disobedience of his subjects, and his own wretched situation, he tore the bandages from his breast, and refused all nourishment, till death speedily terminated his sufferings.

After the death of his royal captive, Cortez had no other resource than to retreat at once from the city. He made his preparations with all diligence, and, on the night of the 1st of July, 1520, set out on his march, hoping to withdraw unperceived. But he was fatally mistaken. All his motions were closely watched by the natives, and before he reached the middle of the causeway leading from the city, through the lake, he was suddenly attacked by them, both in front and rear—while from the canoes in the lake showers of arrows were poured upon them from unseen foes. The Spaniards, confounded by the darkness of the night, and the number of their enemies, after a slight resistance, broke, and fled in utter confusion. Many were slain; a number perished in the lake, and some fell into the hands of the enemy. The fate of the last was far the worst—for they were reserved to be sacrificed, with the most cruel tortures, to the gods of the Mexicans.

The next morning, when Cortez reviewed the miserable remnants of his troops, now reduced to less than half their former number, he is said to have wept at contemplating the ravages made among his brave followers in a single night, which was long known and remembered by the Spaniards, as the night of sorrow.

But the spirit of the Spanish leader was still unconquered; he encouraged his dejected followers by the hopes of future victories, and exhorted them to push on with all speed to Tlascala, where they would again be surrounded by their faithful friends. For six days they proceeded with the greatest difficulty, constantly skirmishing with small bodies of Mexicans, who shouted as they approached, “Go on, robbers, go to the place where you shall soon meet the vengeance due to your crimes.” The Spaniards were not long left in doubt as to the meaning of these words; for, reaching the top of an eminence before them, a spacious valley opened to their view, covered with a vast army, extending as far as the eye could reach. At the sight of this great multitude, many of the bravest Spaniards began to despair; but, encouraged by the words and example of their undaunted general, they advanced; their enemies gave way before them, but only to return again to the combat in another quarter. Hundreds fell, but hundreds appeared to supply their places; until the Spaniards were ready to sink under the fatigue of their unavailing efforts. At this time, Cortez observed near him the great standard of the Mexicans; and he recollected to have heard, that upon the fate of this depended the success of every battle. Collecting a few of his brave officers, whose horses were still capable of service, he dashed with tremendous force through the ranks of the enemy, slew their general, and seized the standard. The Mexicans, seeing the fall of their sacred banner, gave up at once all hope of victory, threw down their arms, and fled in every direction.

Cortez now continued his march, and soon arrived into the territories of the Tlascalans. By these faithful allies he was received with as much cordiality as ever, notwithstanding his reverses, and he immediately set about making preparations for the conquest of Mexico, with so much diligence, that, at the end of six months, he found himself at the head of more than 500 Spaniards, and about 10,000 Tlascalans and other Indians. He did not, however, undertake immediately the siege; he began by reducing, or gaining over to his cause, the smaller cities lying near the capital, and thus he gradually confined the Mexican power within smaller limits.

In the meantime, the Mexicans were not idle; directly after the death of Montezuma, his brother, Quetlevan, was raised to the throne. His reign was short; within a few months he was carried off by the small-pox—a distemper introduced into the New World by the Spaniards. He was succeeded by his nephew, Guatimozin, who had already given decisive proofs of his courage and capacity. Immediately upon his election, he applied himself to repairing and strengthening the fortifications of the city; large quantities of arms were manufactured, and an immense army was collected for the defence of the capital.

At length, all his preparations being completed, Cortez united all his forces for the last great effort; and the siege of Mexico, the longest and most arduous of all undertaken by the conquerors of America, was begun. By means of a small fleet, which he had caused to be constructed in the mountains of Tlascala, and transported thence by land, with great labor, he obtained entire possession of the lake; while on land, a constant succession of assaults and repulses were kept up on both sides, with the most obstinate valor. But the Spaniards gradually gained upon the natives, though the latter disputed every inch of ground with the courage of despair; nor would they listen to any proposals of surrendering, until three quarters of their city were laid in ruins, and four fifths of the population had perished by famine, pestilence, or the sword of the enemy.

When the city could no longer hold out against its besiegers, Guatimozin, moved by the tears and entreaties of his nobles, attempted to escape, but was taken and brought back to the capital. When led before his conqueror, he addressed him in a speech, breathing a Roman heroism: “I have done what became a monarch. I have defended my people to the last extremity. Nothing now remains but to die. Take this dagger—plant it in my breast, and put an end to a life which can no longer be of use.” It would have been well for him if this request had been complied with; but he was reserved for further indignities.

The quantity of gold and silver found in the conquered city was very small. The soldiers murmured loudly at their disappointment, and accused Guatimozin of having thrown his treasures into the lake, in order to baulk their well-known avarice. They demanded that he should be compelled by torture, if necessary, to point out the place in which they had been cast; and to this, Cortez was base enough to accede. The captive monarch, together with one of his chief favorites, was put to the torture; but he remained inflexible. The favorite, in the extremity of his anguish, turned an imploring eye towards his master, as if to entreat permission to reveal the secret. “Am I now reposing on a bed of flowers?” returned the suffering prince, darting at him a look of scorn, mingled with authority. The obedient servant bowed his head in silence, and expired; and Cortez, ashamed of his cruelty, ordered the monarch to be released from further torture.

But the sufferings of the unhappy Guatimozin were not yet terminated: not long after the capture of the city, the natives, driven to desperation by the cruelties of their conquerors, rose to regain their freedom; and Cortez, suspecting the king of being concerned in these attempts, barbarously ordered him to be hanged; and thus, by a deed which will forever stain the memory of his great actions, he put an end to the Mexican empire, which had existed for nearly 200 years. After this period, the vast territories of Mexico were reduced to Spanish provinces, in which condition they remained nearly 300 years, when the people formed independent governments. The republics of Mexico, Texas, and Guatemala, are all within the territories of Montezuma.

Isaac and Rebekah.

Among the many beautiful things in the Bible, there are few stories more interesting than that of Isaac and Rebekah, as it is told in the twenty-fourth chapter of Genesis.

Isaac was the son of Abraham, who had left his native place in Mesopotamia, and settled in the land of Canaan. Abraham was unwilling that his son should marry a Canaanite woman; so he sent his servant to his own native land, to find a wife for Isaac. The man set out with ten camels, and a great variety of things for presents, and at last came near to the city of Nahor, in Mesopotamia.

He stopped at a well without the city, and made his camels kneel by the side of it. He knew that the daughters of the men of the city would come out to draw water at the well, for this was the custom of the country; so he waited, and prayed to the Lord that the damsel to whom he should say, “Let down thy pitcher, I pray thee, that I may drink,” should be the woman designed to be the wife of Isaac.

Pretty soon a beautiful girl came to the well, and the servant spoke to her, and she let down her pitcher, and gave him some water; and she also gave water to his camels. She told him that her name was Rebekah, the daughter of Bethuel, son of Milcah. The servant then gave her some golden ear-rings and some bracelets; and, upon her invitation, went, with his whole party, to her father’s house. Here he was kindly received; and after a space, he told the errand on which he had come. He closed his story in the following words: “And now, if ye will deal kindly and truly with my master, tell me: and if not, tell me; that I may turn to the right hand, or to the left.”

Then Bethuel and Laban, his son, answered and said, “The thing proceedeth from the Lord: we cannot speak unto thee bad or good. Behold, Rebekah is before thee; take her, and go, and let her be thy master’s son’s wife, as the Lord hath spoken. And it came to pass that, when Abraham’s servant heard their words, he worshipped the Lord, bowing himself to the earth. And the servant brought forth jewels of silver, and jewels of gold, and raiment, and gave them to Rebekah: he gave also to her brother and to her mother precious things. And they did eat and drink, he and the men that were with him, and tarried all night: and they rose up in the morning; and he said, Send me away unto my master. And her brother and her mother said, Let the damsel abide with us a few days, at the least ten; after that she shall go. And he said unto them, Hinder me not, seeing the Lord hath prospered my way; send me away, that I may go to my master. And they said, We will call the damsel, and enquire at her mouth. And they called Rebekah, and said unto her, Wilt thou go with this man? And she said, I will go. And they sent away Rebekah, their sister, and her nurse, and Abraham’s servant, and his men. And they blessed Rebekah, and said unto her, Thou art our sister; be thou the mother of thousands of millions, and let thy seed possess the gate of those which hate them.

“And Rebekah arose, and her damsels, and they rode upon the camels, and followed the man, and the servant took Rebekah, and went his way.

“And Isaac came from the way of the well, Lahai-roi: for he dwelt in the south country. And Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the even-tide; and he lifted up his eyes, and saw, and, behold, the camels were coming. And Rebekah lifted up her eyes; and when she saw Isaac, she lighted off the camel. For she had said unto the servant, What man is this that walketh in the field to meet us? And the servant had said, It is my master: therefore she took a veil, and covered herself. And the servant told Isaac all things that he had done. And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah’s tent, and took Rebekah, and she became his wife; and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother’s death.”

In a former number of our magazine, we gave an incident, extracted from Mr. Catlin’s interesting account of his adventures among the western Indians. We now add another story from the same work. The writer is giving an account of a long journey through the wilds of the far west.

“On this journey, while Charley and I were twenty-five days alone, we had much time, and the best of circumstances, under which to learn what we had as yet overlooked in each other’s characters, as well as to draw great pleasure and real benefit from what we already had learned of each other in our former travels.

“I generally halted on the bank of some little stream, at half an hour of sunset, where feed was good for Charley, and where I could get wood to kindle my fire, and water for my coffee. The first thing was to undress Charley, and drive down his picket to which he was fastened, to graze over a circle that he could inscribe at the end of his laso. In this wise he busily fed himself until nightfall; and after my coffee was made and drank, I uniformly moved him up, with his picket by my head, so that I could lay my hand upon his laso in an instant, in case of any alarm that was liable to drive him from me.

“On one of these evenings, when he was grazing as usual, he slipped the laso over his head, and deliberately took his supper at his pleasure, wherever he chose to prefer it, as he was strolling around. When night approached, I took the laso in hand, and endeavored to catch him; but I soon saw he was determined to enjoy a little freedom; and he continually evaded me until dark, when I abandoned the pursuit, making up my mind that I should inevitably lose him, and be obliged to perform the rest of my journey on foot. He had led me a chase of half a mile or more, when I left him busily grazing, and returned to my little solitary bivouac, and laid myself on my bear-skin and went to sleep.

“In the middle of the night I waked, whilst I was lying on my back, and on half opening my eyes, I was instantly shocked to the soul by the huge figure, as I thought, of an Indian, standing over me, and in the very act of taking my scalp! The chill of horror that paralyzed me for the first moment, held me still till I saw that there was no need of moving—that my faithful horse Charley had ‘played shy’ till he had ‘filled his belly,’ and had then moved up, from feelings of pure affection, or from instinctive fear, or possibly from a due share of both, and taken his position with his fore feet at the edge of my bed, with his head hanging directly over me, while he was standing, fast asleep!

“My nerves, which had been most violently shocked, were soon quieted, and I fell asleep, and so continued until sunrise in the morning, when I waked, and beheld my faithful servant at some considerable distance, busily at work picking up his breakfast amongst the cane-brake, along the banks of the creek. I went as busily at work preparing my own, which was eaten; and after it, I had another half hour of fruitless endeavors to catch Charley, whilst he seemed as mindful of mischief as on the evening before, and continually tantalized me by turning round and round, and keeping out of my reach.

“I recollected the conclusive evidence of his attachment and dependence, which he had voluntarily given in the night, and I thought I would try them in another way; so I packed up my things, and slung the saddle on my back, and taking my gun in my hand, I started on my route. After I had advanced a quarter of a mile, I looked back, and saw him standing, with his head and tail very high, looking alternately at me and at the spot where I had been encamped and left a little fire burning.

“In this condition he stood and surveyed the prairies around for a while, as I continued on. He at length walked with a hurried step to the spot, and seeing everything gone, began to neigh very violently, and at last started off the fullest speed, and overtook me, passing within a few paces of me, and wheeling about at a few rods distance in front of me, trembling like an aspen leaf.

“I called him by his familiar name, and walked up to him with the bridle in my hand, which I put over his head, as he held it down for me, and the saddle on his back, as he actually stooped to receive it. I was soon arranged, and on his back, when he started off upon his course, as if he was well contented and pleased, like his rider, with the manœuvre which had brought us together again, and afforded us mutual relief from our awkward positions. Though this alarming freak of Charley’s passed off and terminated so satisfactorily, yet I thought such rather dangerous ones to play, and I took good care, after that night, to keep him under my strict authority; resolving to avoid further tricks and experiments, till we got to the land of cultivated fields and steady habits.”

The Kitchen.

The art of managing the kitchen is what every wife should thoroughly understand; and all those girls, who have any chance of becoming wives, should be careful to complete this important part of their education. Even those who are rich, and who can afford to hire people to perform the work of the kitchen, should still understand it, for the following reasons:

In the first place, if the lady of the house knows how work ought to be done, she is competent to direct her assistants; she knows what they should do, and how they should do it. If they fail, she can be just in bestowing the degree of censure, which is truly merited. If, on the other hand, she is ignorant, she is as likely to find fault for what is well done, as for what is ill done. A lady who is ignorant on the subject of household duties, is very apt to be unreasonable in the direction of her helpers: they therefore learn to despise, and perhaps to deceive her; thus making themselves and their mistress very unhappy. In this way things pass for a time; but they go on from bad to worse, till they are beyond endurance, and the lady’s help leaves her.

In this way, owing to the ignorance of the lady, many a household is rendered miserable, many a home is a scene of disorder and confusion. It is in part owing to this ignorance, and the want of judgment and discretion that attend it, that we hear of so much changing of servants, and so much trouble with them, in families. The truth is, that servants are human beings; they are rational creatures, and have their rights; when they are ill treated or find themselves uncomfortable, they will change their condition. It is a blessed thing, that, in our country, even those who are in humble circumstances are independent, and need not submit to oppression, even in a kitchen. They are as much entitled to have their feelings duly considered, as any others. If they are honest and faithful, they are as well entitled to respect as others; and it is a pleasing thought, that, when they do not thus obtain their rights and privileges, they can go away, and seek a place where they may find them.

Now ignorance of the duties of the kitchen, on the part of a lady, implies ignorance of the proper way of treating her servants; and it frequently happens that the servant is more wise, more reasonable, more respectable, in the sight of God and man, than the ignorant lady of the house. As ignorance of household duties is thus degrading and hurtful—bringing contempt upon the subject of it, and misery to all around—I beseech all the black-eyed and blue-eyed little lasses, who pretend to be the friends of Robert Merry, to beware of it.

I know that some young ladies fancy that it is degrading thus to work in the kitchen. Alas, what miserable delusion! Degrading to do that which contributes to the comfort of home, that which makes a family happy, that which enables a wife to discharge her duties well and wisely! Oh, do not let any of my readers indulge such folly! It is never degrading to do our duty—but it is degrading to despise it. Even if a person is so rich as to render labor unnecessary, yet it is impossible to enjoy even riches without some toil, some industry; and when my young friends grow up, if I should live so long, I hope to see those who are girls now, industrious, skilful housewives then. If they can reign well over the little kingdom of the kitchen, I am sure they will preside successfully over the parlor. One thing should be remembered—and it is this: home is seldom happy where housewife duties are neglected; home is seldom miserable where they are wisely discharged!

Visit to Herculaneum.—​Singular position of that city.—​Account of the manuscripts discovered there.—​Visit to Pompeii, and description of the curiosities of that place.

No traveller can visit this region without being attracted to those remarkable places, Herculaneum and Pompeii, two Roman cities, which, as every reader of history well knows, were overwhelmed by an eruption of Vesuvius in the year 79, and, after lying buried, totally forgotten, for seventeen hundred years, were accidentally discovered about a century ago, by digging a well.

I first visited Herculaneum, which is nearest to Naples. This city lies seventy or eighty feet under ground, and the towns of Portici and Resina are built over it. I went down a dark passage with steps, like the descent into some enormous dungeon, till I reached an open space resembling a cavern, very wide and lofty, but as dark and dismal a spot as one would desire to visit. On examining the side of this great chamber by the light of torches, we could discover the stone walls and other masonry of the structure, all showing it to be an ancient theatre. In this place were originally found three fine marble statues, which are now to be seen in the museum at Naples. Round about the building are various dark passages and galleries dug through the hard earth; but the whole city of Herculaneum lies at such a depth below the surface, that very little of it besides the theatre has been explored, on account of the labor and expense attending the operation. The city was overwhelmed first by a shower of ashes, and then by a torrent of hot water. The ashes and water have hardened into a compact mass, which, after a consolidation of seventeen hundred years, is found very difficult to dig through.

There is very little to be seen in Herculaneum; but it causes the strangest sensations to stand in that gloomy subterranean theatre, once enlivened by the bustling throngs and noisy gayety of a city populace. Now all is silent and dreary, and no sound falls upon the ear save the echoing footstep of a lonely visiter, or the rumbling of a carriage-wheel overhead! It is not probable that the city will ever be laid open to the light of day, as this could hardly be done without serious injury to the territory above it.

The most remarkable objects hitherto found here have been the manuscripts. These were rolls of papyrus, but so completely charred by the hot ashes, that they could not be handled without danger of crumbling to pieces. By very delicate management, however, assisted by machinery, a series of these have been unrolled. They contained a treatise, in the Greek language, on music, by Philodemas. Most of the others that have been examined are also in Greek; but no writings of any great intrinsic value have yet come to light.

A few miles further along the shore of the Bay of Naples brought me to Pompeii. This city was buried under a shower of ashes, but was not covered so deep as Herculaneum; and as no town was built over it after the catastrophe, there has been no difficulty in excavating it. About a third part has now been opened, and the work is still going on. The excavated parts are not subterranean, as at Herculaneum, but completely uncovered to the sky; so that the visible portion of the city presents the appearance of a succession of deserted streets and roofless houses, as if a violent storm of wind had suddenly blown away the house-tops and the inhabitants with them. Before coming to the gate of the city, I passed through long lines of tombs;—the grave-yards of the Romans being always outside the city walls. Many of these tombs were adorned with beautiful sculptures in marble; and the interiors were painted with pictures of gladiators fighting, and other subjects. Just before reaching the gate, I saw a niche in the wall, which served as a sentry-box for the soldier who stood sentry at the gate. It is a most striking proof of the strictness of military discipline among the Romans, that the skeleton of this sentinel was found on the spot:—the terrible convulsion which destroyed the city could not drive him from his post, and he remained faithful to his trust to the last moment of his life!

The main street, on entering, is about as wide as Washington street, with sidewalks two feet high. The buildings are mostly of brick, and commonly not more than one story high. The main street is full of shops, with the names of the shopkeepers coarsely painted over the doors. There is a baker’s shop, which contained a great many loaves of bread, rather overdone. The loaves are stamped with the baker’s name. The shop also contained a hand-mill, which shows that the labor of grinding was also done by the baker. In one of the liquor-shops you may see on the stone counter the marks of the glasses which were thumped down by hard drinkers. I went into the cellar of one of the houses, where I found the wine-jars left standing just as they were in 79; they were dry, of course. Some of the houses had upper chambers, but without windows. The large rooms, dining-halls, parlors, &c., have the walls painted with landscapes, flowers, drapery, and figures like our paper-hangings. Many of these are of great beauty; and in all of them we are struck with wonder to observe the freshness and brilliancy of the coloring, which, after a lapse of 1700 years, appears as bright as the day it was laid on. These paintings are executed upon plaster, and the composition either of the paint or stucco appears to contain borax, which is known to be one of the most indestructible of all substances. The prevailing colors are bright red and yellow.

A great many of these paintings have been cut out of the walls and carried to Naples, where they may be seen at the museum. This indeed is the fact with regard to almost all the movable articles that have been found at Pompeii. In the gateway of a yard to one of the houses is a bolt in the pavement, to which a dog was chained, and on the stone is sculptured the words, Cave Canem—“Beware of the dog!” In another part is an apothecary’s shop, which contained a great number of glass bottles and phials, with knives, lancets, and other instruments of surgery. These latter are not of steel, but bronze; and it is singular that hardly any other metal than bronze has ever been found here, which shows either the scarcity of iron at that period, or a great want of skill in working it.

Many of the halls and courts are adorned with splendid mosaic pavements, and other ornamental stone-work. There is an immense building, containing a great number of apartments, used for a public bath. Some of these apartments were heated by flues passing between the walls;—a device which was formerly thought to be an invention of modern days. But there are many things at Pompeii which show ingenuity equal, and sometimes superior, to that of our own age. I was struck with a very simple contrivance for making a door swing to, without springs or weights, which I have never seen imitated anywhere.

The public buildings at Pompeii are numerous and striking, but cannot be properly described without drawings. At the door of the theatre was found one of the tickets of ivory, with the number of the box marked upon it. On the walls of the houses may still be seen the theatrical announcements, such as with us are pasted up at the corners of the streets. Those at Pompeii are written with a brush on a ground of stucco, and were washed off as often as the bill was changed. The last one stood a little longer than the writer expected. Pliny tells us the people were in the theatre when the eruption broke out.

It is impossible to specify half the curious and interesting objects to be seen here without writing a volume. Temples, theatres, amphitheatres, porticoes, fountains, arches, tombs, and the private dwellings of thousands of men, who appear to have left them but yesterday, all make a strange and most exciting impression on the feelings. You almost expect the owners of the houses to step back and ask your business there. It is curious to observe that the objects which, in their own day, were the most trivial and unimportant, are now precisely those which are beheld with the greatest interest. We cannot pass without curious attention the cart-ruts in the streets, or the charcoal scrawlings made by idle boys upon the walls, or the names of Mr. A, B, and C, who lived in this, that, and the other house. There is a place where a mason was at work, putting on mortar; he had just laid on a trowel-full, and was drawing a stroke to smooth it down, when the alarm of the eruption was given, and he left his work and ran. There stand the stone and mortar to this day, with the mark of the unfinished stroke! He would have made all smooth in one second more—but 1700 years have passed, and it is not done yet. An hundred volumes written on the uncertainty of human purpose could not make the fact half so striking as this little incident!

CHAPTER XX.

Journey towards Rome.—​Vineyards.—​The olive season.—​Beautiful scene at Mola di Gaeta.—​A shepherd among the mountains.—​The robbers of Fondi.—​The Pontine marshes.—​Velletri.—​The nightingale.—​First sight of Rome.