Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
The Americans walked
up one flight and found spacious rooms on the first floor, of which they
immediately took possession.
"Send for our trunks," said Mr. Merrick; and the man consented to do so
provided he could secure a proper vehicle.
"You will be obliged to pay high for it," he warned; "but that will not
matter. To witness the destruction of our beautiful Naples is an unusual
sight. It will be worth your money."
"We'll settle that in the dim hereafter," replied Uncle John. "You get
the trunks, and I'll take care of the finances."
When the concierge had retired the girls began to stuff newspapers into
the cracks of the windows of their sitting room, where the fine ash was
sifting in and forming little drifts several inches in thickness. Also
the atmosphere of the room was filled with impalpable particles of dust,
which rendered breathing oppressive and unpleasant.
Uncle John watched them for a time, and his brow clouded.
"See here, girls," he exclaimed; "let's hold a council of war. Do you
suppose we are in any real danger?"
They grouped around him with eager interest.
"It's something new to be in danger, and rather exciting, don't you
think?" said Beth. "But perhaps we're as safe as we would be at home."
"Once," said Louise, slowly, "there was a great eruption of Vesuvius
which destroyed the cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii. Many of the
inhabitants were buried alive. Perhaps they thought there was no real
danger."
Uncle John scratched his head reflectively.
"I take it," he observed, "that the moral of your story is to light out
while we have the chance."
"Not necessarily," observed the girl, smiling at his perplexity. "It is
likewise true that many other eruptions have occurred, when little
damage was done."
"Forewarned is forearmed," declared Patsy. "Naples isn't buried more
than six inches in ashes, as yet, and it will take days for them to
reach to our windows, provided they're falling at the same rate they do
now. I don't see any use of getting scared before to-morrow, anyhow.
- Page:
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
- 136
- 137
- 138
- 139
- 140
- 141
- 142
- 143
- 144
- 145
- 146
- 147
- 148
- 149
- 150
- 151
- 152
- 153
- 154
- 155
- 156
- 157
In a village there lived two men who had the self-same name. Both were named Claus. But one of them owned four horses, and the other owned only one horse; so to distinguish between them people called the man who had four horses Big Claus, and the man who had only one horse Little Claus. Now I'll tell you what happened to these two, for this is a true story.
© 2013-2019 FairyTales
Almost all texts on this website are from the Public Domain.