direful calamity was the eruption of Vesuvius, which you have been
describing? Don't you remember the beauty of that fine coast, and of the
mountain itself, before it was torn with the violence of those internal
fires, that forced their way through its surface. The foot of it was
covered with cornfields and rich meadows, interspersed with splendid
villas and magnificent towns; the sides of it were clothed with the best
vines in Italy. How quick, how unexpected, how terrible was the change!
All was at once overwhelmed with ashes, cinders, broken rocks, and fiery
torrents, presenting to the eye the most dismal scene of horror and
desolation!

_Pliny the Elder_.--You paint it very truly. But has it never occurred
to your philosophical mind that this change is a striking emblem of that
which must happen, by the natural course of things, to every rich,
luxurious state? While the inhabitants of it are sunk in
voluptuousness--while all is smiling around them, and they imagine that
no evil, no danger is nigh--the latent seeds of destruction are
fermenting within; till, breaking out on a sudden, they lay waste all
their opulence, all their boasted delights, and leave them a sad monument
of the fatal effects of internal tempests and convulsions.



DIALOGUE VIII.


FERNANDO CORTEZ--WILLIAM PENN.

_Cortez_.--Is it possible, William Penn, that you should seriously
compare your glory with mine? The planter of a small colony in North