walls still standing and with tall, arched entrance. This also was one
of the gay places in Pompeii, for it was a bathhouse. Every day all
the ladies and gentlemen of the town came strolling toward it down the
streets. The men went in at the wide doorway. The women turned and
entered their own apartments around the corner. And as they walked
toward the entrance they passed little shops built into the walls of
the bathhouse. At every stall stood the shopkeeper, bowing, smiling,
begging, calling. "Perfumes, sweet lady!"

"Rings, rings, beautiful madam, for your beautiful fingers!"

"Oil for your body, sir, after the bath!"

"A taste of sweets, madam, before you enter! Honey cakes of my own
making!"

"Don't forget to buy my dressing for your hair before you go in! You'll
get nothing like it in there."

So they chattered and called and coaxed. Some of the people bought, and
some went laughing by and entered the bathhouse. As the gentlemen went
in, a large court opened before them. Here were men bowling or jumping
or running or punching the bag or playing ball or taking some other kind
of exercise before the bath. Others were resting in the shade of the
porches. A poet sat in a cool corner reading his verses to a few
listeners. Some men, after their games, were scraping their sweating
bodies with the strigil. Others were splashing in the marble
swimming tank. Here and there barbers were working over handsome
gentlemen--smoothing their faces, perfuming their hair, polishing their
nails. There was talk and laughter everywhere. Men were lazily coming