and going through a door that led into the baths. There were large rooms
with high ceilings and painted walls. In one we can still see the round
marble basin. The walls are painted with trees and birds and swimming
fish and statues. It was like bathing in a beautiful garden to bathe
here. Another room was for the hot bath, with double walls and hot air
circulating between to make the whole room warm. The bathhouse was a
great building full of comforts. No wonder that all the idle Pompeians
came here to bathe, to play, to visit, to tell and hear the news. It was
a gay and noisy place. We have a letter that one of those old Romans
wrote to a friend. He says:

"I am living near a bath. Sounds are heard on all sides. The men of
strong muscle exercise and swing the heavy lead weights. I hear their
groans as they strain, and the whistling of their breath. I hear the
massagist slapping a lazy fellow who is being rubbed with ointment. A
ball player begins to play and counts his throws. Perhaps there is a
sudden quarrel, or a thief is caught, or some one is singing in the
bath. And the bathers plunge into the swimming tank with loud splashes.
Above all the din you hear the calls of the hair puller and the sellers
of cakes and sweetmeats and sausages."

After you leave the baths perhaps you will turn down Stabian Street. It
has narrow sidewalks. The broken walls of houses fence it in closely
on both sides and cast black shadows across it. It is paved with clean
blocks of lava. You will see wheel ruts worn deep in the hard stone.
Almost two thousand years old they are, made by the carts of the
farmers, perhaps, who brought in vegetables for the market. At the
street crossings you will see three or four big stone blocks standing
up above the pavement. They are stepping-stones for rainy weather.
Evidently floods used to pour down these sloping streets. You can