of Twelve Gods, the Street of Mercury, the Street of Fortune, the Street
of Fortunata, Modest Street, etc. The names given to the houses are
still more arbitrary. Most of them were christened, under the old
system, by the august or illustrious personages before whom they were
dug out for the first time. Thus, we have at Pompeii the house of
Francis II., that of Championnet, that of Joseph II.; those of the Queen
of England, the King of Prussia, the Grand Duke of Tuscany; that of the
Emperor, and those of the Empress and of the Princes of Russia; that of
Goethe, of the Duchess de Berry, of the Duke d'Aumale--I skip them by
scores. The whole Gotha Almanac might there be passed in review. This
determined, ramble through the streets at will, without troubling
yourself about their names, as these change often at the caprice of
antiquaries and their guides.

The narrowness of these streets will surprise you; and if you come
hither to look for a Broadway, you had better have remained at home.
What we call great arteries of traffic were unknown to the Pompeians,
who cut only small paved paths between their houses--for the sake of
health, they said. We entertain different views of this question of
salubrity.

The greatest width of a Pompeian street is seven yards, and there are
some which are comprised, sidewalks and all, within a space of two yards
and a half. These sidewalks are raised, very narrow, and paved very
variously, according to the wealth or the fancy of the proprietors, who
had to keep them in good order. Here are handsome stone flags; further
on merely the soil beaten down; in front of the next house are marble
slabs, and here and there patches of _opus signinum_, a sort of
rudimentary mosaic, to which we shall refer further on. These sidewalks
were intersected with curbstones, often pierced with holes--in front of