o accumulate.

[Illustration: Signature:]

THE AMPHITHEATRE

From 'The Last Days of Pompeii'

On the upper tier (but apart from the male spectators) sat the women,
their gay dresses resembling some gaudy flowerbed; it is needless to add
that they were the most talkative part of the assembly; and many were
the looks directed up to them, especially from the benches appropriated
to the young and the unmarried men. On the lower seats round the arena
sat the more high-born and wealthy visitors--the magistrates and those
of senatorial or equestrian dignity: the passages which, by corridors at
the right and left, gave access to these seats, at either end of the
oval arena, were also the entrances for the combatants. Strong palings
at these passages prevented any unwelcome eccentricity in the movements
of the beasts, and confined them to their appointed prey. Around the
parapet which was raised above the arena, and from which the seats
gradually rose, were gladiatorial inscriptions, and paintings wrought in
fresco, typical of the entertainments for which the place was designed.
Throughout the whole building wound invisible pipes, from which, as the
day advanced, cooling and fragrant showers were to be sprinkled over the
spectators. The officers of the amphitheatre were still employed in the
task of fixing the vast awning (or _velaria_) which covered the whole,
and which luxurious invention the Campanians arrogated to themselves: it
was woven of the whitest Apulian wool, and variegated with broad stripes
of crimson. Owing either to some inexperience on the part of the workmen
or to some defect in the machinery, the awning, however, was not
arranged that day so happily as usual; indeed, from the immense space of
the circumference, the task was always one of great difficulty and
art--so much so that it could seldom be adventured in rough or windy
weather. But the present day was so remarkably still that there seemed
to the spectators no excuse for the awkwardness of the artificers; and
when a large gap in the back of the awning was still visible, from the
obstinate refusal of one part of the velaria to ally itself with the
rest, the murmurs of discontent were loud and general.

The sedile Pansa, at whose expense the exhibition was given, looked
particularly annoyed at the defect, and vowed bitter vengeance on the
head of the chief officer of the show, who, fretting, puffing,
perspiring, busied himself in idle orders and unava