Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 6.djvu/98

 throng, and a near kinsman, a man in whom all the beatitudes seemed to find expression, a tender poet, a learned college professor, a theologian, an author, one so exceptionally pure, larg-ehearted, so genial and courteous that he could be faithful to truth and duty without making an enemy, Thomas Cogswell Upham, has here broken bread with his friends and relatives. That tall, gaunt, swarthy man, with the pale ascetic face of the scholar, yet whose keen eyes and eagle nose bespake the man of action and execution, is Hon. Henry Hubbard, of Charlestown, and governor of his native state. Levi Woodbury, with the head of a statesman on his broad shoulders, Ira A. Eastman, tall, slim, and intensely alive in every feature and gesture, and Long John Wentworth, whose mother was also a cousin of Mrs. Badger, have been among those to sit down in this old hall.

The silver tea-service and the China plate that graced the governor's table is still preserved at the mansion. Opening from the dining-room and the sitting-room is a small closet. It is the silver room. There was a double set of China, and it was all brought from Portsmouth in a pair of saddle-bags. Many and many a grandame have poured the "beverage that cheers but does not inebriate" from the precious ware. Although in general use by the family, only two or three pieces have been broken.

In the north-west corner of the square part, and leading out from the dining-room, is the Governor's sleeping room. It is a pleasant, cosy retreat. There is a fire-place in it so that it can be warmed during the cold season. Three windows give plenty of light to the apartment, and there is a closet connected with it. The bedstead is a huge cumbrous affair that was made for the governor's own use. It seems capable of supporting an Og of Bashan. The governor and his wife were no light weight,—hence a strong bedstead was necessary. The windows on the ground floor are all protected by shutters.

In the ell part, which is also two stories in height, is the great kitchen, "the old, clean, roomy New England Kitchen," of whose thrift, warmth and coolness, Mrs. Stowe writes so lovingly. This one fills one's ideal completely. There is plenty of space, there is cleanliness, there is. comfort, and there is alike warmth and coolness. The ancient fire-place has been walled up, and a modern range now does service in cooking. There is bustle here but there is no confusion. It is half past eleven, and the noonday meal is in preparation. Ah! the fragrance of that dinner haunts me yet.

While the viands are cooking, and graceful hands are spreading the snowy linen over the mahogany table (I am rather of the opinion that the ancient Roman custom of eating without table cloths was the happiest after all), we will ascend the wide stairway to the second story. The guest chamber is over the parlor. In it is a mahogany bedstead with a canopy. It is almost a perfect fac simile of Lord Byron's bed at Newstead Abbey, only the testers are not surmounted by baronial coronets. The furniture is of the old fashioned type. Paper of a handsome light pattern is on the walls. Above the mantel are four pictures in water colors, done by Mrs. Badger in her girlhood days; also a picture done in silk, which is very exact and tasteful. The window frames are heavy, and were made by hand. The size of the lights is nine by thirteen inches. The other chambers, and there are live of them, are of modern furnishing.

Before we descend we will go up still higher, to the garret, and take a look from the windows. The view is extensive and picturesque. You can see a dozen villages from your eyrie. Belmont lies just below in dreamlike repose, save for the smoke that rises from the factories into the blue ether, and even that is curling lazily as if dreaming. Fertile fields, white farm