Meanwhile, flames appeared to issue from several parts of the mountain with great violence--the darkness of the night heightening their glare. Pliny nevertheless went to sleep. Soon, however, the court leading to his chamber became almost filled with stones and ashes; so his servants awoke him, and he joined Pomponianus and his household. The house now began to rock violently to and fro; while outside, stones and cinders were falling in showers. They, notwithstanding, thought it safer to make their way out from the tottering mansion; so, tying pillows upon their heads with napkins, they sallied forth. Although it was now day, the darkness was deeper than that of the blackest night. By the aid of torches and lanterns, however, they groped their way towards the beach, with a view to escape by sea; but they found the waves too high and tumultuous. Here Pliny, having drunk some cold water, lay down upon a sailcloth which was spread for him; when almost immediately flames, preceded by a strong smell of sulphur, issuing from the ground, scattered the company and forced him to rise. With the help of two of his servants he succeeded in raising himself; but, choked by some noxious vapour, he instantly fell down dead. [Illustration: Vesuvius Before the Eruption of A.D. 79.] Nor was he alone in his death; for although many of the inhabitants of the devoted cities were able to effect their escape; yet, so suddenly did the overwhelming shower of ashes, cinders, and stones fall upon them, that not a few of them perished in their dwellings or their streets. As for the cities themselves, they were utterly buried completely out of sight, and, like other things that are long out of sight, they soon became also buried out of mind. For many centuries they remained entirely forgotten. You will doubtless like to know how Vesuvius looked, after doing so much mischief. Here is a picture showing what like it was immediately before the eruption; and one showing its appearance soon after the event. On comparing the two, you will observe the mountain had undergone a great change. It was no longer flat on the top, but had formed for itself a large cone, from the summit of which dense vapours ascended. This cone was composed entirely of the ashes, cinders, and loose stones, thrown up during the eruption. It had become separated by a deep ravine from the remainder of the former summit, which afterwards came to be distinguished by the name Monte Somma. The whole of the forests, vineyards, and other luxuriant vegetation, which had covered that portion of the sides of Vesuvius where the eruption took place, were destroyed. Nothing could be more striking than the contrast between the beautiful appearance of the mountain before this catastrophe, and its desolate aspect after the sad event. This remarkable contrast forms the subject of one of Martial's Epigrams, lib. iv. Ep. 44. It is thus rendered by Mr. Addison:-- [Illustration: Vesuvius after the Eruption of A.D. 79.]