As one walks through Pompeii he sees much to tell him that advertising is not altogether an invention of the present age. Placards and posters enlivened the streets; the walls were covered with them; and in many places there were whitewashed patches of wall, serving for the announcements which the writers wished to make public. These panels were dedicated entirely to the public business, and anybody had the right to paint upon them, in delicate and slender letters, the advertisements which we now find in the columns of the newspapers. [Sidenote: ADVERTISING IN THE OLDEN TIME.] Many of these announcements were of a political character, such as proclamations of candidates for public office. Pompeii was evidently swallowed up just before an election. In reading the posters you will find that sometimes it was a noble, sometimes a group of citizens, and sometimes a corporation of tradesmen, who recommended some one to the office of _ædile_ or _duumvir_. Thus Paratus nominates Pansa; Philippus nominates Caius; Felix, and Valentinus, and his associates prefer Sabinus. Sometimes the elector was in a hurry, and asked to have his candidate chosen quickly. Sometimes a dozen guilds, such as the fruiterers, the porters, the mule drivers, the salt makers, carpenters, and others, united to urge the election of somebody. Rather curiously, we found on some of these placards that the sleepers declared their preference for somebody, and it puzzled us to know who were these friends of sleep. Perhaps they may have been gentlemen who did not like noise, or perhaps they were an association of tumultuous fellows who thus disguised themselves under an ironical title. They may have been a type of the class who are described in the present slang of New York as _roosters_. There were advertisements of lost property, hotels announcing rooms to let, stolen horses, performances at the theatres, and various other things, such as we see in the advertising papers, and in posters on the walls at the present day. There were some of these posters devoted to what we call _personals_. Of course they were obscurely worded, so as to be understood only by those for whom they were intended. One of my companions asserted that one advertisement read, “Julia, same place, six P. M., Tuesday;” and another said, “Scipio, come back; all will be forgiven;” and another was, “Marcus has gone west, will return next week.” I did not see these advertisements, and make the statement only on his authority. I might have been inclined to believe it had he not declared, with the most solemn visage, that he read an advertisement thus: “Secure me a suit of rooms on the Boston steamer to-morrow.” This was too much; and I told him that business was played out. There were inscriptions in reference to the cleanliness of the city; and some of them recalled, in terms too precise and definite for modern times, the announcement of the present day, “Commit no Nuisance.”