THE OF THE POMPEIANS. THE FIRST RUDE BY WHICH THE NEW ERA OF THE WORLD WAS .  
IT was early noon, and the forum was crowded alike with the busy and the idle. As at Paris at this day, so at that time in the cities of Italy, men lived almost wholly out of doors: the public buildings, the forum, the , the baths, the temples themselves, might be considered their real homes; it was no wonder that they decorated so gorgeously these favorite places of resort—they felt for them a sort of domestic affection as well as a public pride. And was, indeed, the aspect of the forum of Pompeii at that time! Along its broad pavement, composed of large flags of marble, were assembled various groups, in that energetic fashion which appropriates a gesture to every word, and which is still the characteristic of the people of the south. Here, in seven stalls on one side the , sat the money-changers, with their glittering heaps before them, and merchants and in various costumes crowding round their stalls. On one side, several men in long togas were seen rapidly up to a stately , where the administered justice—these were the lawyers, active, , joking, and punning, as you may find them at this day in Westminster. In the centre of the space, pedestals supported various statues, of which the most was the stately form of Cicero. Around the court ran a regular and symmetrical colonnade of Doric architecture; and there several, whose business drew them early to the place, were taking the slight morning repast which made an Italian breakfast, talking on the earthquake of the preceding night as they dipped pieces of bread in their cups of wine. In the open space, too, you might perceive various petty traders exercising the arts of their calling. Here one man was holding out ribands to a fair from the country; another man was vaunting to a farmer the of his shoes; a third, a kind of stall-restaurateur, still so common in the Italian cities, was supplying many a hungry mouth with hot messes from his small and stove, while—contrast strongly typical of the and intellect of the time—close by, a schoolmaster was to his puzzled pupils the elements of the Latin grammar.' A gallery above the , which was by small wooden staircases, had also its ; though, as here the business of the place was mainly carried on, its groups wore a more quiet and serious air.
 
Every now and then the crowd below respectfully gave way as some senator swept along to the Temple of Jupiter (which filled up one side of the forum, and was the senators' hall of meeting), nodding with ostentatious to such of his friends or clients as he amongst the throng. amidst the gay dresses of the better orders you saw the forms of the neighboring farmers, as they made their way to the public granaries. Hard by the temple you caught a view of the triumphal arch, and the long street beyond with inhabitants; in one of the of the arch a fountain played, cheerily sparkling in the sunbeams; and above its cornice rose the bronzed and statue of Caligula, strongly contrasting the gay summer skies. Behind the stalls of the money-changers was that building now called the Pantheon; and a crowd of the poorer Pompeians passed through the small vestibule which admitted to the interior, with panniers under their arms, pressing on towards a platform, placed between two columns, where such provisions as the priests had rescued from sacrifice were exposed for sale.
 
At one of the public appropriated to the business of the city, workmen were employed upon the columns, and you heard the noise of their every now and then rising above the hum of the multitude: the columns are unfinished to this day!
 
All, then, united, nothing could exceed in variety the costumes, the ranks, the manners, the occupations of the crowd—nothing could exceed the bustle, the gaiety, the animation—where pleasure and commerce, idleness and labor, and ambition, mingled in one their motley rushing, yet harmonius, streams.
 
Facing the steps of the Temple of Jupiter, with folded arms, and a knit and contemptuous brow, stood a man of about fifty years of age. His dress was plain—not so much from its material, as from the absence of all those which were worn by the Pompeians of every rank—partly from the love of show, partly, also, because they were chiefly wrought into those shapes deemed most efficacious in resisting the assaults of magic and the influence of the evil eye. His forehead was high and bald; the few locks that remained at the back of the head were by a sort of cowl, which made a part of his cloak, to be raised or lowered at pleasure, and was now half-way over the head, as a protection from the rays of the sun. The color of his garments was brown, no popular with the Pompeians; all the usual admixtures of or purple seemed carefully excluded. His belt, or girdle, contained a small receptacle for ink, which hooked on to the girdle, a stilus (or of writing), and tablets of no ordinary size. What was rather remarkable, the cincture held no purse, which was the almost indispensable appurtenance of the girdle, even when that purse had the misfortune to be empty!
 
It was not often that the gay and egotistical Pompeians busied themselves with observing the and actions of their neighbors; but there was that in the lip and eye of this bystander so remarkably bitter and disdainful, ............