12 ELIZABETH CARY AGASSIZ 
Downstairs on the piano nobile on our right as we 
came down into the hall, was the dining-room, its 
walls hung with rare engravings. Here at two long 
tables we used to have our Thanksgiving dinner when 
most of us were children or very young men and 
maidens. The little people were at a long side-table 
with Aunt Sally and my mother to preside. The elders, 
however, sat at the table of ceremony where grand- 
father and grandmother presided in state. How 
gravely John Tevin served us young folks, though 
ready enough to crack a joke with us on ordinary occa- 
sions! How the tables groaned under the glorious pro- 
ductions of Hannah Allen’s genius, who was surely a 
high priestess in the culinary art, of which we young- 
sters were devotees! In later years the Thanksgiving 
feast was spread in the two large drawing rooms with 
folding doors that stood always open. They were 
handsome, spacious rooms, hung with interesting 
paintings, chiefly of the English school and strongly 
influenced by the genius of Constable. There were 
two beautiful bas-reliefs by Thorwaldsen, and some 
exquisite ornaments in Sévres and other precious 
materials, but the furniture was of the plainest, 
covered with horsehair and the carpet was of sober 
brown Brussels. Two relics of a departed glory we 
regarded with awe: an armchair of Napoleon that he 
sat in at St. Helena, gnawing his heart out, one may 
guess, — also a small copy of his tomb with sword and 
chapeau bas laid upon it. 
Next to this pleasant mansion was the smaller 
house where Thomas Graves Cary was watching over 
