Nearly Seventeen Centuries had rolled away when the City of Pompeii was disinterred from its silent tomb, all vivid with undimmed hues; its walls fresh as if painted yesterday—­not a hue faded on the rich mosaic of its floors—­in its forum the half-finished columns as left by the workman’s hand—­in its gardens the sacrificial tripod—­in its halls the chest of treasure—­in its baths the strigil—­in its theatres the counter of admission—­in its saloons the furniture and the lamp—­in its triclinia the fragments of the last feast—­in its cubicula the perfumes and the rouge of faded beauty—­and everywhere the bones and skeletons of those who once moved the springs of that minute yet gorgeous machine of luxury and of life!  In the house of Diomed, in the subterranean vaults, twenty skeletons (one of a babe) were discovered in one spot by the door, covered by a fine ashen dust, that had evidently been wafted slowly through the apertures, until it had filled the whole space.  There were jewels and coins, candelabra for unavailing light, and wine hardened in the amphorae for a prolongation of agonized life.  The sand, consolidated by damps, had taken the forms of the skeletons as in a cast; and the traveler may yet see the impression of a female neck and bosom of young and round proportions—­the trace of the fated Julia!  It seems to the inquirer as if the air had been gradually changed into a sulphurous vapor; the inmates of the vaults had rushed to the door, to find it closed and blocked up by the scoria without, and in their attempts to force it, had been suffocated with the atmosphere.

In the garden was found a skeleton with a key by its bony hand, and near it a bag of coins.  This is believed to have been the master of the house—­the unfortunate Diomed, who had probably sought to escape by the garden, and been destroyed either by the vapors or some fragment of stone.  Beside some silver vases lay another skeleton, probably of a slave.

The houses of Sallust and of Pansa, the Temple of Isis, with the juggling concealments behind the statues—­the lurking-place of its holy oracles—­are now bared to the gaze of the curious.  In one of the chambers of that temple was found a huge skeleton with an axe beside it:  two walls had been pierced by the axe—­the victim could penetrate no farther.  In the midst of the city was found another skeleton, by the side of which was a heap of coins, and many of the mystic ornaments of the fane of Isis.  Death had fallen upon him in his avarice, and Calenus perished simultaneously with Burbo!  As the excavators cleared on through the mass of ruin, they found the skeleton of a man literally severed in two by a prostrate column; the skull was of so striking a conformation, so boldly marked in its intellectual as well as its worse physical developments, that it has excited the constant speculation of every itinerant believer in the theories of Spurzheim who has gazed upon that ruined palace of the mind.  Still, after the lapse of ages, the traveler may survey that airy hall within whose cunning galleries and elaborate chambers once thought, reasoned, dreamed, and sinned, the soul of Arbaces the Egyptian.