THE POMPEII OF TO-DAY.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 767, 12 November 1886, Page 9

THE POMPEII OF TO-DAY.

It seems odd to speak of a dead city as a growing one. But that is exactly the case with Pompeii. There are many cities in Italy that do not grow half as fast as the one buried by the ashes of Vesuvius 1800 years ago. A person visiting it at intervals of a year notices a marked enlargement of its boundaries. The Italians, you know, are the champion diggers. They make the shovel fly when they attack the grave of Pompeii. We saw a gang of them at work there. A Government overseer watches them like a hawk. He wanted to be sure that they pocketed no jewellery, coins, or objects of art or utility yielded by the excavations. The only produce of their toil in that line as we stood by was a bit of iron, which the guide called a hinge, and the fragment of a small marble column. The spades busily plied were gradually bringing to light a beautiful' house. The floors were mosaic, with simple but graceful desigDs in scroll pattern—nearly as fresh in color as if laid yesterday. The walla bore frescoes of fainter tints—grinning masks, fawns, cupids, birds, fish, and fruit. It had evidently been the home of a well-to-do citizen of Pompeii. The nervous movements of the workmen betrayed their anxiety. They were hoping at every moment to make a valuable “find.” Perhaps they might hit upon a great iron chest, studded with round knobs like a boiler, and full of gold, money, or ornaments, or they might strike another wonder in marble or bronze, or they might be startled by coming suddenly upon a skull or other human remains. In the latter event the work is suspended till a careful inspection is made. The responsible • and intelligent person in charge proceeds to ascertain if the dead Pompeiian had left a mould of himself or herself in the plastic ashes. If so, he prepares a mixture of plaster of Paris, breaks a hole in the crust, and slowly pours in the liquid till the mould is full. When it has hardened the casting is tenderly removed. Lo ! there is a rough image, showing some poor creature in the agonies of death, prone on the floor, face downward. Thus, most usually, were the inhabitants of the doomed city caught by the destroying angel. The skull, or leg, or arm, or whatever other part of the skeleton has not relapsed into its original dust, may attach itself to the plaster cast in the proper place, or may require to be joined on by a pardonable “restoration.” In either case, the effect is thrilling in its horrible reality.