ing, 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
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 wal