rhaps they hoped to salvage
the strong box in the atrium, or a heirloom from the triclinium. But
soon they gave up. Despairing, or hoping for better days to come, they
vanished in the mist of time. Pompeii, the fair, the hospitable, the
gay city, just like any individual out of luck, was and stayed
forgotten. The Pompeians, their joys, sorrows, their work and play,
their virtues and vices--everything was arrested with one single
stroke, stopped, even as a camera clicks, taking a snapshot.

The city's destruction, it appears, was a formidable opening blow
dealt the Roman empire in the prime of its life, in a war of
extermination waged by hostile invisible forces. Pompeii makes one
believe in "Providence." A great disaster actually moulding, casting a
perfect image of the time for future generations! To be exact, it took
these generations eighteen centuries to discover and to appreciate the
heritage that was theirs, buried at the foot of Vesuvius. During these
long dark and dusky centuries charming goat herds had rested unctuous
shocks of hair upon mysterious columns that, like young giant
asparagus, stuck their magnificent heads out of the ground. Blinking
drowsily at yonder villainous mountain, the summit of which is
eternally crowned with a halo of thin white smoke, such as we are
accustomed to see arising from the stacks of chemical factories, the
confident shepherd would lazily implore his patron saint to enjoin
that unreliable devilish force within lest the _dolce far niente_ of
the afternoon be disturbed, for siestas are among the most important
functions in the life of that region. Occasionally the more
enterprising would arm themselves with pick-axe and shovel, made bold
by whispered stories of fabulous wealth, and, defying the evil spirits
protecting it, they would set out on an expedition of loot and
desecration of the tomb of ancient splendor.

Only about a century and a half ago the archaeological conscience
awoke. Only seventy-five years ago energetic moves made possible a
fruitful pilgrimage to this shrine of humanity, while today not more
than two-thirds but perhaps the most important parts of the city have
been opened to our astonished eyes by men who know.

And now: we may see that loaf of bread baked nineteen centuries ago,
as found in the bake shop. We may inspect the ingenious bake oven
where it was baked. We may see the mills that ground the flour for the
bread, and, indeed find unground wheat ker