Twice-Told Tales

gest 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 n

own, as if the owner's individual taste had shaped it, and the whole presenting a picturesque irregularity the absence of which is hardly compensated by any beauties of our modern architecture. Such a scene, dimly vanishing from the eye by the ray of here and there a tallow candle glimmering through the small panes of scattered windows, would form a sombre contrast to the street as I beheld it with the gaslights blazing from corner to corner, flaming within the shops and throwing a noonday brightness through the huge plates of glass. But the black, lowering sky, as I t

favor us with a glass apiece of whiskey-punch, which was speedily prepared, steaming hot, with a slice of lemon at the bottom, a dark-red stratum of port wine upon the surface and a sprinkling of nutmeg strewn over all. As we touched our glasses together, my legendary friend made himself known to me as Mr. Bela Tiffany, and I rejoiced at the oddity of the name, because it gave his image and character a sort of individuality in my conception. The old gentleman's draught acted as a solvent upon his memory, so that it overflowed with tales, traditions,

art could be discerned. Time had thrown an impenetrable veil over it and left to tradition and fable and conjecture to say what had once been there portrayed. During the rule of many successive governors it had hung, by pr

an official order, there sat the lieutenant-governor so carefully scrutinizing the black waste of canvas that his demeanor attracted the notice of two young persons who attended him. One, wearing a military dress of buff, was his kinsman, Francis Lincoln, the provincial captain of Castle William; the other, who sat on a low stool beside his chair, was Alice Vane, his favorite niece. She was clad entirely in white-a pale, ethereal creature who, though a native of New England, had been educated abroad and seemed not merely a stranger from another clime, but almost a being from another world. For several

resented? Possibly, could it be made visible, it might prove a masterpiece

rs and caprices of Alice as if she had been his own best-beloved child-did not imm

om time immemorial. As to the painter, I can tell you nothing; but if half the stories told of it be true

d had shown himself at seasons of public calamity to more than one of the royal governors. Shirley, for instance, had beheld this ominous apparition on the eve of General Abercrombie's shameful and bloody defeat under the walls of Ticonderoga. Many of the servants of the province-house had caught glimpses of a visage frowning down upon them at morning or evening twilight, or in the depths of night while raking up the fire that glimmered on the hearth beneath, although, if any were, bold enough to hold a torch before the picture, it would appear as black and undistinguishable as ever. The oldest inhabitant of Boston recollected that his

smiled while her cousin spoke. "It would be almost worth while to wipe away the black surface of the c

red her cousin," to restore this

known in Ital

ed with a smile to the conversation of his young relatives. Yet his voice had s

me acquainted with the subject of this picture-if picture it can be called-which is no more visible, nor ever will be, than the face of the long-bu

harter, under which our forefathers had enjoyed almost democratic privileges-he that was styled the arch

on, moving uneasily in his chair. "It was his

life, and that its effect was seen, likewise, in the manner of his death. They say, too, that the inward misery of that curse worked itself outward and was visible on the wretched m

"As regards the life and character of Edward Randolph, too implicit credence has been given to Dr. Cotton Mather, who-I must say it, though

so dreadful, it is not without a cause that it has hung so long in a chamber of the province-house. When the ruler

upon some feeling in his own breast which all his policy or principles could not entirely subdue. He knew,

wild, misguided multitude.-Captain Lincoln, it is decided: the fortress of Castle William must be occupied by the royal troops. The two remaining regiments shall be bille

ish soldiers than those of brotherhood, as when they fought side by side through the French war. Do not convert the streets of your native town i

fficer will be in attendance this evening to receive the necessary instructions for

e. The captain of Castle William fancied that the girl's air and mien were such as might have belonged to one of those spirits of fable-fairies or creatures of a more antique mythology-who s

evil shape!" cried s

d character. Contrasting with these were one or two members of council, richly dressed in the white wigs, the embroidered waistcoats and other magnificence of the time, and making a somewhat ostentatious display of courtier-like ceremonial. In attendance, likewise, was a major of the British army, awaiting the lieutenant-governor's orders for the landing of the troops, which still remained on bo

e Vane should have been there at such a time, but there was something so childlike, so wayward, in her singular character, so apart from ordinary rules, that her presence did not surprise t

the responsibility. Think, sir, while there is yet time, that if one drop of blood be shed, that blood shall be an eternal stain upon Your Honor's memory. You, sir, have written with an able pen the dee

taining that end than by withstanding the merely temporary spirit of mischief which, with your pardon, seems to have infected older men than myself. Would you have me wait till the mob shall sack th

governor's orders. "The demagogues of this province have raised the devil, a

s claws," answered the captain of Castle Willi

will strive against the oppressor with prayer and fasting, as our forefathers would have done. Like them, moreov

there shall be a sentinel at every corner and a court of guard before the town-house, a loyal gentleman may venture to walk abroad. What to me is the outcry of a mob

l surprise, and in none more than in the lieutenant-governor himself. Looking angrily up, he perceived that his young relative was pointing his finger to the opposite wall. Hutchinson's eye followed the signal, and he saw what had hitherto been unobserved-that a black silk curtain was suspend

ome hithe

r eyes, with the other snatched away the sable curtain that concealed the portrait. An exclamatio

those around him; "if the spirit of Edward Randolph were to appear among us from

ence scattered away the mist of years that had so long hid this drea

e whole portrait started so distinctly out of the background that it had the effect of a person looking down from the wall at the astonished and awe-stricken spectators. The expression of the face, if any words can convey an idea of it, was that of a wretch detected in some hideous guilt and exposed to the bitter hatred and laughter and withering scorn of a vast surrounding multitude. There was the struggle of defiance, beaten down and overwhelmed by the crushing wei

ace," said Hutchinson, who seemed f

trampled on a people's rights. Behold hi

rting his energy-which was not, however, his most characteristic f

nter's art, your Italian spirit of intrigue, your tricks of stage-effect, and think to influe

ain snatched the pen; "for if ever mortal man received

. "Though yonder senseless picture cr

serable and wicked look-he scrawled on the paper, in characters that betokened it a deed of desperation, the n

he, and placed his

soft, sad accents of Alice Vane, like

gure had, indeed, stepped forth, it had fled back, spirit-like, at the day-dawn, and hidden itself behind a century's obscurity. The truth probably was that Alice Vane's secret for restoring the hues of the picture had merely effected a temporary renovation. But those who in that brief interval had beheld the awful visage of Edward Randolph desired no second glance, and ever afterward trembled at the recollection of the scene, as if an evil spirit

that it had long since been removed, and was supposed to be hidden in some out-of-the-way corner of the New England Museum. Perchance some curious antiquary may l

urse of generations, when many people have lived and died in an ancient house, the whistling of the wind through its crannies and the creaking of its beams and rafters become strangely like the tones of the human voice, or thundering laughter, or heavy footsteps treading the deserted ch