empuvium, or reservoir in the centre, its inclosure of ornamental columns, those small, shell-decorated fountains and figures of the gods, all that little world inclosed within the gate of the home. Yes, she might be happy there, the wife, the mother, who possessed the object of her love, who loved and was beloved; and even the young girl, who beheld in flowers of the rose-court, and in the pictures within her own room, half-clear prophecies of a future life of love and life-enjoyment. But a daughter or sister who is not loved? A deserted wife? Or a woman for whom, the life of the sitting-room was too narrow, but who would not purchase her freedom by becoming a Lais or an Aspasia? Oh, if women would but rightly reflect for how much they have to thank Christianity! The time of silent sighs has ceased, and the forum of humanity is accessible to every feeling, thinking soul. A spirit of justice, of reason, of brotherhood, breathes over the fields and dwellings of the earth. Homes are no longer locked up like prisons, free paths for labor, for talent, and human love are everywhere connected with them. Life has become freer, nobler, happier to the greater mass, and it becomes more and more so every day; thanks be to Him who proclaimed, and perfected by his life, God's law of love.
I again walked through the street of tombs, the Via Appia of Pompeii, and rested for awhile on the large, semi-circular marble seat, on the back of which stands inscribed in large letters Mamia sacirdotessa. Behind this bench, in a hollow valley, stands her beautiful and still well-preserved monument. At that time some few women were honored, who were ele-
