The grass was covered; the cornices and balconies of the houses were banked with ashes.
"Bless me!" said Uncle John.

"It's as bad as Pompey, or whatever that city was called that was buried in the Bible days." "Oh, not quite, Uncle," answered Patsy, in her cheery voice; "but it may be, before Vesuvius is satisfied." "It is certainly bad enough," observed Louise, pouting as she marked the destruction of her pretty cloak by the grimy deposit that was fast changing its color and texture.
"Well, let us get under shelter as soon as possible," said Uncle John.
The outlines of a carriage were visible a short distance away.

He walked up to the driver and said: "We want to go to a hotel." The man paid no attention.
"Ask him how much he charges, Uncle.

You know you mustn't take a cab in Naples without bargaining." "Why not ?" "The driver will swindle you." "I'll risk that," he answered.

"Just now we're lucky if we get a carriage at all." He reached up and prodded the jehu in the ribs with his cane.