Duty was the only
chain that held him.
"And to think that centuries and centuries afterward they should
find his monument--a vacant, empty mold in the piled-up pumice!
Had I been in his place I should have created my vacancy much
sooner--say, about thirty seconds after the first alarm went in.
But he was one who chose rather that men should say, 'How natural
he looks!' than 'Yonder he goes!' And he has my sincere admiration.
When I go to Pompeii--if ever I do go there--I shall seek out the
spot where he made the supremest sacrifice to authority that ever
any man could make, and I shall tarry a while in those hallowed
precincts!"
That was what I said I would do and that was what I did do that
afternoon at Pompeii. I found the gate looking toward the sea and
I found all the other gates, or the sites of them; but I did not
find the Roman sentry nor any trace of him, nor any authentic
record of him. I questioned the guides and, through an interpreter,
the curator of the Museum, and from them I learned the lamentably
disillusioning facts in this case. There is no trace of him because
he neglected to leave any trace.
Doubtless there was a sentry on guard at the gate when the volcano
belched forth, and the skin of the earth flinched and shivered and
split asunder; but he did not remain for the finish. He said to
himself that this was no place for a minister's son; and so he
girded up his loins and he went away from there.
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