If you were with the procession on this day you would find yourself before one of an almost continuous chain of monuments, built in all manner of shapes and sizes—­such as great altars, small shrines, pyramids (like that of Cestius on another road), or round towers like the beautiful tomb of Caecilia Metella.  The exterior of these structures is often adorned with commemorative or symbolic carvings, and the inside, which may be wholly above the surface or partly sunk beneath—­is a chamber surrounded by niches, in which are placed the urns containing the ashes of the dead.  Perhaps an illustration of the present state of the “Street of Tombs” at Pompeii will afford some notion, although the sepulchres of that provincial place by no means matched those upon the various roads outside the Roman gates.  Often the monumental chamber stands somewhat back from the road, leaving space for a large semicircular seat of stone open to public use, its back wall being inscribed with some statement of honour to the family.  Round the sepulchre—­“where all the kindred of the Silii lie” is a space of ground, planted with shrubs and trees, and surrounded by a low wall.  Somewhere near, on an open level, the funeral pile has been built of pine-logs, with the interstices stuffed with pitch, brushwood, or other inflammable material.  It is natural that the pyre should take the shape of an altar and that cypress branches should lean against the sides.

Upon the summit of this pile is laid Silius on his bier; incense and unguents are shed over him; wreaths and other offerings, often of no little value, are cast upon the heap.  While loud cries of lamentation are being raised by the company present, a near kinsman approaches the pile with a torch, and, turning his face away, sets fire to the whole structure.  It speedily burns down, the last embers are quenched with wine, the general company thrice cries “farewell,” and, except for the nearest relatives, the procession returns to the city.  The relatives who stay take off their shoes, wash their hands, and proceed to gather up the bones—­which they cleanse in wine and milk—­and the ashes, which they mix with perfume.  These remains are then placed in the urn of bronze, marble, alabaster, or maybe of coloured glass, and the urn fills one more niche in the chamber of the monument.

[Illustration:  FIG. 123.—­COLUMBARIUM.]

Now and then there were more magnificent obsequies than those of Silius.  A “public” funeral might be decreed to a man who had deserved conspicuously well of the state.  On such an occasion the crier would go round, calling “Oyez, come all who choose to the funeral of So-and-So.”  The invitation meant, not merely participation in a solemn procession, but also in the funeral feast, and probably an exhibition of gladiators.  On the other hand the majority of burials were naturally of a far more simple and inexpensive kind.  The poor could not afford to use unguents and keep their