scurity of his tale.
Moreover, my gorgeous fantasies were woefully disturbed by the
rattling of the spoon in a tumbler of whiskey-punch which Mr. Thomas
Waite was mingling for a customer. Nor did it add to the picturesque
appearance of the panelled walls that the slate of the Brookline stage
was suspended against them, instead of the armorial escutcheon of some
far-descended governor. A stage-driver sat at one of the windows
reading a penny paper of the day--the Boston _Times_--and presenting a
figure which could nowise be brought into any picture of "Times in
Boston" seventy or a hundred years ago. On the window-seat lay a
bundle neatly done up in brown paper, the direction of which I had the
idle curiosity to read: "MISS SUSAN HUGGINS, at the PROVINCE HOUSE." A
pretty chambermaid, no doubt. In truth, it is desperately hard work
when we attempt to throw the spell of hoar antiquity over localities
with which the living world and the day that is passing over us have
aught to do. Yet, as I glanced at the stately staircase down which the
procession of the old governors had descended, and as I emerged
through the venerable portal whence their figures had preceded me, it
gladdened me to be conscious of a thrill of awe. Then, diving through
the narrow archway, a few strides transported me into the densest
throng of Washington street.

II.

EDWARD RANDOLPH'S PORTRAIT.

The old legendary guest of the Province House abode in my remembrance
from midsummer till January. One idle evening last winter, confident
that he would be found in the snuggest corner of the bar-room, I
resolved to pay him another visit, hoping to deserve well of my
country by snatching from oblivion some else unheard-of fact of
history. The night was chill and raw, and rendered boisterous by
almost a gale of wind which whistled along Washington street, causing
the gaslights to flare and flicker within the lamps.

As I hurried onward my fancy was busy with a comparison between the
present aspect of the street and that which it probably wore when the
British governors inhabited the mansion whither I was now going. Brick
edifices in those times were few till a succession of destructive
fires had swept, and swept again, the wooden dwellings and warehouses
from the most populous quarters of the town. The buildings stood
insulated and independent, not, as now, merging their separate
existences into connected ranges with a front of tiresome identity,
bu