TEMPLE PLACE 11 



the front door. Ah, that door! It was of black oak 

 made of wood from the famous old man-of-war, the 

 Constitution. It opened heavily and closed with a 

 great thud and crash that could be heard in all the 

 houses round about. The vestibule was very pretty 

 with marble statues on each side, and steps again led 

 up to the door opening into the hall. From the hall 

 a broad spiral staircase wound up to the top of the 

 house and was crowned with a cupola, from which we 

 could see the comet of the time, or watch meteors 

 trail their mysterious light across the sky. Two sto- 

 ries below w^as a spacious hall with grandfather's suite 

 of rooms on the left side; on the opposite side our 

 grandmother held sway. The elder grandchildren 

 were very intimate with their grandfather, but we 

 younger ones never ventured into these sacred pre- 

 cincts unless the rooms were empty. To our grand- 

 mother's parlor we always had access. She was usu- 

 ally sitting by a bright fire in a thickly upholstered 

 rocking chair with arms and ears. She received us 

 kindly, but usually said, "Where is your mother.^ " — 

 a rather disconcerting question, but I don't remember 

 being repelled by it. At dusk of a winter's day when 

 the astral lamps were lighted, John Tevin, the old 

 butler, drew out and opened a mahogany table with 

 claw feet, spread a white cloth, put on the hissing 

 kettle, and we had tea with grandmother. A particu- 

 lar kind of toast dwells in the memory of the partici- 

 pants, some East India preserve or other delicacy, 

 and our favorite gingerbread marked, no doubt, with 

 a fork, to our taste superior to any other luxury. 



