I i The Architectural Review and American Builders' Journal. [June, peii belonged to that portion of Italy called Magnia Grecia, and its peculiari- ties were largely shaped by the spirit of Greek civilization. It was visited by an earthquake, A. D. 63, and over- whelmed Iry an eruption of Vesuvius in the year 79. For nearly 1,100 years it lay buried under ashes. Since 1755 the work of excavation has been going on, though not. regularly. It contained about 25,000 inhabitants. Its walls, which were twenty feet thick and the same height, were, I should suppose, rather more than two miles in circuit. These walls had five gates ; the princi- pal one was called the Gate of Hercula- neum, and stood at the point where the Appian way touched the city. My first walk was along the Street of the Tombs. This is outside of the wall, and leads to the Gate of Herculaneum. I felt very strangely when I entered the House of Diomedes. If you have read the "Last Days of Pompeii," by Bulwer, you can understand why my feelings were so singular. To take a stroll through an almost perfect Roman House ; to see all its arrangements ; to tread upon its marble floors ; look into its bed cham- bers, and stand in its reception hall ; to go down into its cellars, around its gar- dens, and among its baths, is one of those intensely vivid things that the dis- tant past rarely permits you to enjoy. I entered through a narrow passage (ves- tibulum) into the hall (atrium), and thence into the bedrooms, connected by doors with this hall. The chambers were quite small — not larger than the little dormitories in an old college — and the T had no windows. I saw the other apartments. It was a sort of double house — one set of rooms for summer and one for winter. Like most of the pri- vate edifices, it was but one story. The wine-cellar below was quite large. A black wall surrounded three sides of the area, within which was the gardens. Down in the gloomy cellar I was shown where skeletons were found huddled together. The ashes swept in on the inmates of the house, who probably hur- ried to that place for protection, but the mighty rain, black and tempestuous, chased them there and closed compactly around them. The impression of the skeletons is pointed out. But it is not as clear as that of the comic mask in the theatre of Herculaneum. I never saw anything more perfect than this. The melted lava caught it and hardened around it, and there are the mimic fea- tures all complete! Then I crossed the street and saw the family burial ground. Then other places of interment. The Romans loved to put their tombs on the sides of the public roads. Hundreds of these sepulchres may be seen in Italy. I went into these hill-side vaults. The urns weie there containing the ashes. I saw a place sealed up, and on the marble face the names of children engraved ; and I thought of the time, long; a»o when in the morning twilight their fair forms were burning under the waving cypress. Outside the gates are various objects of an interesting kind that illus- trate Roman life. Cicero's villa, so called, is in this street. The pillars are in the same style of so many of the buildings seen in old Rome — two rows of very thin bricks and then a block of "tufa," which is a volcanic rock. Not far off, is a semi-circular edifice, a line of rock seats within, which was used by travellers who chanced to remain with- out the walls at night. Close by is the house for guards. The sentry box is also standing. Passing these you reach the Herculaneum Gate, which has a central archway twenty feet high and fifteen feet wide. Through this you enter Pompeii. It is Pompeii still, so natural, so life- like. The long streets shine in the sun ; the houses stretch away in regular lines ; the walks ring freshby to your steps — Pompeii yet ! But in a few moments you realize all — the ghostly form and the pale blanched look and the hushed stillness— a city lifted from its huge sarcophagus, its burial sheet unwound, and the miracle of the resurrection be-
