Pompeii had just reached its boasted perfection when, on the 24th of August, A. D. 79, fifty years after the Crucifixion, it was destroyed by Vesuvius. Pliny, whose mother was among those buried alive, wrote two letters to his friend, the historian Tacitus, in which letters he gives a graphic description of this fearful scene. He speaks of “the premonitory earthquakes, day turned into night the extraordinary agitation of the sea, the dense clouds overhanging the land and sea, and riven by incessant flashes of lightning, the emission of fire and ashes, the descent of streams of lava, and the universal terror of men, who believed the end of the world had arrived.” At the time of the eruption many of the houses were closed; hence they were not filled, but simply surrounded by and covered with ashes. This of course excluded all air. Thus many houses were hermetically sealed, as was also the city itself. Of the 30,000 souls dwelling in Pompeii, 2,000 or more perished with the city. Pompeii, being built entirely of stone, marble and granite did not burn, but was simply buried beneath this incumbent mass. For 1,700 years it was wrapped in ashes and hid from the face of the earth. For centuries its very site was unknown, and even its name forgotten. “But earth, with faithful watch, has hoarded all,” and during the last few years much of the buried city has been unearthed and brought to light. What a rich field for excavation! It has proved an inexhaustible store-house of wealth, and a perfect treasury of art. Great quantities of gold and silver coins and jewelry, frescoes, pictures, statuary, household furniture, and cooking utensils, have been found; also several large loaves of bread in a perfect state of preservation, and jars of pickled olives. How strange to have one’s appetite tempted by articles of food that were prepared for those who lived 1,700 years ago! Many dogs and horses, and not less than three to four hundred human bodies, have been discovered. Eighteen bodies were in one room. You see to-day the contortions their bodies were in, and the expression their countenances wore, at the moment of death. Their tangled and disheveled hair is clotted with ashes. In the excitement and confusion of that awful hour, the terror-stricken inhabitants of the doomed city ran to and fro through the streets, calling upon their gods for safety and deliverance. They were over-powered by the falling shower of ashes and cinders. They threw themselves upon the ground, their faces upon their arms. At this moment, the sluggish stream of wet ashes which poured forth from Vesuvius passed over them. Many no doubt welcomed death. For seventeen centuries their quiet slumbers were undisturbed.