Therefore people said to themselves:

"After all, she is a good old mountain. There will never be another
eruption while we are alive."

So villages grew up around her feet. Farmers came and built little
houses and planted crops and were happy working the fertile soil. They
did not dream that they were living above a buried city, that the roots
of their vines sucked water from an old Roman house, that buried statues
lay gazing up toward them as they worked.

About three hundred years ago came another terrible eruption. Again
there were earthquakes. Again the mountain bellowed. Again black clouds
turned day into night. Lightning flashed from cloud to cloud. Tempests
of hot rain fell. The sea rushed back and forth on the shore. The whole
top of the mountain was blown out or sank into the melting pot. Seven
rivers of red-hot lava poured down the slopes. They flowed for five
miles and fell into the sea. On the way they set fire to forests and
covered five little villages. Thousands of people were killed.

Since that time Vesuvius has been very active. Almost every year there
have been eruptions with thunder and earthquakes and showers and lava.
A few of these have done much damage. [Footnote: In this year, 1922,
Vesuvius has been very active for the first time since 1906. It has been
causing considerable alarm in Naples. A new cone, 230 feet high, has
developed.--Ed.] And even on her calmest days a cloud has always hung
above the mountain top. Sometimes it has been thin and white--a cloud of
steam. Sometimes it has been black and curling--a cloud of dust.

Vesuvius is a dangerous thing, but very beautiful. It stands tall and