One man was found with ten pieces of gold in one hand, and a large key in the other. Gold, however, was no bribe to the fiery fiend. But for that gold, the owner might have escaped; but no, he must return to get it. He would not leave it. Hence he did not leave at all. I know many men who are acting as foolishly to-day, as this citizen of Pompeii did ages ago. Many a man says: “I will make my fortune; I will get my gold first, and then look to my soul’s welfare.” O reader, the day of judgment is at hand! “Flee from the wrath to come;” “flee for thy life.” “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” and then get your gold. Some of these bodies are adorned now as on the day of death, with rings and bracelets and necklaces. The most poetical thing, perhaps, that Pompeii has yielded to modern research is two bodies, male and female, who died in each other’s arms. Let us imagine these persons in the spring-time of life, with the dew of youth still fresh upon their brows; that the girl was beautiful and accomplished, the man strong and true and brave; that their hearts had been touched by Love’s magic wand, and made one; that when on that August day darkness came, when the earth shook, and the volcano poured forth molten streams of fire and consternation, he could have escaped, but he would not go without her. He sought her and she sought him. But when they found each other she was weak and exhausted and could go no farther. She said: “Go, loved one; go save, save thyself!” He replied: “Leave thee, never! Let the thunder roar and the lightnings flash; let the earth reel and the mountains pour forth their fiery streams of death; I die with you rather than live without you!” So saying, they embraced each other and perished. That embrace is still unbroken. As I gaze upon the bodies of these faithful lovers, I fancy, for the time, that I am a poet with the harp of Apollo in my hand. Heavenly breezes sweep across the strings of that golden lyre, and wake for me a song which, for pathos and sweetness, rivals the minstrelsy of angels. At present Pompeii is protected by the same wall that surrounded it when Christ was born in Bethlehem. The city is laid bare. Every thing is clean and neat. The streets are narrow, but straight and well paved with broad flags of lava. These stone-like pavements are worn in some places eight or ten inches deep by the chariot wheels that used to thunder along these busy streets. All houses of Pompeii are now roofless, though otherwise most of them are perfectly preserved. They are usually one story high. The walls were, and are still, covered with beautiful frescoes. Mythology was a favorite subject for the painter—everywhere we see pictures of Minerva, Apollo, Jupiter, Bacchus, and Hercules performing his twelve labors. The floors, clean as any parlor, are inlaid with rich mosaics, representing historical events, gladitorial contests, etc.