ll very fine, of course. You have a habit,
David, my son, of going into raptures over old bones and old stones,
but after all, I'd just like to ask you one question."

"What's that?" asked David, a little sharply.

"Why, this. Has this place, after all, come up to your idea?" And
Frank looked at him with very anxious eyes.

"This place?" said David. "What, Pompeii? Come up to my idea? Why,
of course it has. What makes you ask such a question as that? I
never spent such a day in all my life."

"Well, for my part," said Frank, in a very candid tone, "I'll be
honest. I confess I'm disappointed."

And saying this, Frank shook his head defiantly, and looked at all
the other boys, with the air of one who was ready and willing to
maintain his position.

"Disappointed!" exclaimed David, in an indescribable tone, in which
reproach, astonishment, and disgust were all blended together.

"Yes," said Frank, firmly, "disappointed--utterly, completely, and
tee-totally. I'll tell you what my idea was. My idea was, that the
streets would be streets, in the first place. Well, they're not
_streets_ at all. They're mere _lanes_. They're nothing more than
_foot-paths_. Secondly, my idea was, that the houses would be
_houses_. Well, they're not. They're old ruins; heaps of dust and
bricks--"

"Nonsense!" interrupted David, in indignant tones. "How could the
houses be standing after being buried for so many centuries? You
forget what a tremendous weight of ashes, and stones, and earth,
lay upon their roofs. Houses! Why, did you expect to find couches
to lie on? or chairs--"

"Well," said Frank, "my quarrel with Pompeii doesn't end here.
For, you see, even if the houses were whole and uninjured,
what would they be? Poor affairs enough. Just think how small
they are. Rooms ten by twelve. Narrow passage-ways for halls,
that'll scarcely allow two people to pass each other. The
rooms are closets. The ceilings were all low. And then look
at the temples. I expected to find stone walls and marble
columns. But what have I found? Nothing but shams--pillars
built of bricks, and plastered over to resemble marble. Do
you call that the right style of thing? Why, at home we sneer
at lath-and-plaster Gothic. Why should we admire lath-and-plaster
Greek because it's in Pompeii? Then, again, look at the Forums
--miserable little places that'll only hold about fifty people."

"Pooh!" said David; "as if they didn't know what was large enough!"

"I