At
The Public Fountain The Well Curbs Are Worn Away Where The Women
Rested Their Water Jugs While They Swapped
The gossip of the town;
and at nearly every corner is a groggery, which in its appointments
and fixtures is
So amazingly like unto a family liquor store as
we know it that, venturing into one, I caught myself looking about
for the Business Men's Lunch, with a collection of greasy forks
in a glass receptacle, a crock of pretzels on the counter, and a
sign over the bar reading: No Checks Cashed - This Means You!
In the floors the mosaics are as fresh as though newly applied;
and the ribald and libelous Latin, which disappointed litigants
carved on the stones at the back of the law court, looks as though
it might have been scored there last week - certainly not further
back than the week before that. A great many of the wall paintings
in the interiors of rich men's homes have been preserved and some
of them are fairly spicy as to subject and text. It would seem
that in these matters the ancient Pompeiians were pretty nearly
as broad-minded and liberal as the modern Parisians are. The mural
decorations I saw in certain villas were almost suggestive enough
to be acceptable matter for publication in a French comic paper;
almost, but not quite. Mr. Anthony Comstock would be an unhappy
man were he turned loose in Pompeii - unhappy for a spell, but after
that exceedingly busy.
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