18G9.] A Recent Visit to Pompeii. 7 10 fore your eyes, clear, bold, startling — Pompeii dead but living again Is not this the wonder of the age ? And then I wandered on, half awake and half dream- ing. The streets are very narrow, many of them being mere alleys. How vehicles passed in most of them I was unable to see. But they are finely paved. The blocks used for this purpose are gener- ally about the size of a barrel head, and are firmly embedded in the ground. In the more frequented parts of the city these blocks bear the marks of wheels, and between the curbstones that line the footways on the sides there are raised stepping-stones at the intersections of streets, on which foot passengers crossed. The names of these thoroughfares are quite characteristic — such as Mercury, Fortune ; and judging from their appear- ance, I should infer that they were laid out with special reference to drainage and cleanliness. Sewers and culverts are still visible. Such care for health and comfort must have been required not only by the warmth of the climate and the danger from malaria, but by the densely crowded houses which must have occupied all the available space. The shops are quite diminutive. Most of them are neat little band-boxes in com- 2)arison with our stores, yet always strongly built and conveniently ar- ranged. I saw a baker's shop, in which the mills for grinding are still standing, and at one end of the room, a bake-oven as much like a Dutch oven as Holland or Pennsylvania could show. A shop for the sale of wine and oil exhibits the counter containing large bottles or jars, while at the side is a range of shelves used for glasses. Loungers at these places must have been poorly accommo- dated. But the habit of the Pompeiians was to lounge in the sunshine and open air. Evidently they were an outdoor people. The dwellings are generally houses, not homes, or at least not homes as v/e understand the term. Those do- mestic arrangements we consider so essential to the privacy of individual members of the household were foreign to their habits and tastes. Family life as such seems to have been confined to common wants and very simple conve- niences. Where wealth allowed it, pro- vision was very fully made for company, though the number of guests entertained on any one occasion must have been small. Among the largest and most showy houses are those of Sallust and Pansa. The former taking its name from the inscription C. Sallust, M. F., on the outer wall, covers a surface estimated at forty yards square, while the latter, including the space of the garden, occu- pies an area over 300 ft. by 121 ft. In all this class of mansions the atrium is prominent. Decorative art is never wanting for its adornment. A few feet from the walls that bound the inner line of the chambers and private-rooms pil- lars are generally seen, and in the centre of the tesselated pavement, lying within the ornamented' columns, is a marble reservoir for water (impluvium or com- pluvium). Over this basin the roof was open, though it might be closed by an awning. Beyond the atrium are other apartments connected with a colonnade, among them the eating-hall and the pic- ture-gallery. Frescoes are very com- monly seen on the walls. Statuary abounded in these miniature palaces. Elegant' tastes, whose memorials are still fresh and beautiful, appear in paint- ing and other forms of embellishment. At every turn mosaics meet the eye. I saw a shell-work grotto that was very striking. Fronting the little garden at the rear of the house, its arch, fountain, basin, were elaborately finished in the best style of art. On the pavement of the vestibulum you would sometimes see " Saive," "Ave," in large letters of mo- saic work, and on the floor of the " Tragic Poet's House" I saw the place where the mosaic of the Dog had been found. On a subsequent visit to the Museum, I took a special interest in this dog. By no means a handsome dog, nor is the mosaic fine ; but " Cace
