I have said that Pompeii is a band-box edition that looks like a caricature of a town in which men once lived and traded and reveled. The bed-rooms in the houses of Glaucus, Sallust, Pansa and even in Diomed’s Villa, are no larger than the wardrobe closet of a Philadelphia mechanic’s wife. A brick projection fills up one side. On this the bed was laid. In some there are no windows; in others were slits to admit air, but through which, owing to the thickness of the walls and the contiguity of other buildings, little light could have entered. The positive assertion of guide-books that window-glass was unknown to the Pompeians is contradicted by the recent excavation of a house in which a fragment of a pane still adheres to one of these apertures. We saw it and can testify that it was a bit of indubitable glass, set firmly in its casing. How Julia and Ione contrived to light their dressing-rooms sufficiently to make such toilettes as we see in ancient paintings, baffles our invention when we look at the glimmering loop-holes and the tiny lamps that held but a few thimblefuls of perfumed oil. Bulwer calls the _cubicula_ and boudoirs “petty pigeon-holes,” but alleges that these darkened chambers were “the effect of the most elaborate study”—that “they sought coolness and shade.” We are dubious, in reading further of the fair Julia’s toilette-appointments, that her “eye, accustomed to a certain darkness, was sufficiently acute to perceive exactly what colors were the most becoming—what shade of the delicate rouge gave the brightest beam to her dark glance,” etc. In one house of the better—i. e.—larger sort—is a really cozy boudoir, almost big enough to accommodate two people, a dressing-table and a chair. The floor is in mosaic, wrought, as was the Pompeian fashion, of bits of marble, black and white, less than half-an-inch square, set with cement. The central design is a pretty conceit of three doves, rifling a jewel-casket of ropes of pearls. This work, like the image of the bear in the house to which it has given its name, is covered with coarse sand to protect it from the weather. “The fierce dog painted”—in mosaic—“on the threshold” of Glaucus’ house, has been removed, with the immense “Battle of Darius and Alexander,” to the Naples museum.