the person
of whose coming I was advised by Mr. Tamworth. He came in his own
carriage, and is a meager, hatchet-faced man, whose eye makes me
restless, but has not succeeded in making me lose my self-possession. He
stayed three hours, all of which he made me spend with him in the oak
parlor, and when he had finished with me and got my signature to a long
and complicated affidavit, I felt that I would rather sell my house and
flee the place than go through such another experience. Happily it is
likely to be a long time before I shall be called upon to do so. A
voyage to France and back is no light matter; and what with
complications and delays, a year or more is likely to elapse before the
subject need be opened again in my hearing. I thank God for this. For
not only shall I thus have the opportunity of regaining my equanimity,
which has been sorely shaken by these late events, but I shall have the
chance of adding a few more dollars to my store, against the time when
scandal will be busy with this spot, and public reprobation ruin its
excellent character and custom.

The oak parlor I have shut and locked. It will not be soon entered again
by me.

The other excitement to which I referred was the coming of two new
guests from New York, elegant ladies, whose appearance and manners quite
overpowered me in the few minutes of conversation I held with them when
they first entered my house.

. . . . .

Good God! what is that? I thought I felt something brush my sleeve. Yet
there is no one near me, and nothing astir in the room! And why should
such a sudden vision of the old oak parlor rise before my eyes? And why,
if I must see it, should it be the room as it looked to me on that
night when the two Urquharts sat within it, and not the room as I saw it
to-day!

Positively I must throw away the key of that room; its very presence in
my desk makes me the victim of visions.

* * * * *

OCTOBER 5, 1791.

Why is it that we promise ourselves certain things, even swear that we
will perform such and such acts, and yet never keep our promises or hold
to our oaths? Sixteen years ago I expressed a determination to refit the
oak parlor and make it look more attractive to the eye; I never did it.
A year since I declared in language as strong as I knew how to employ,
not that I would refit the oak parlor, but that I would tear it from the
house, even at the cost of demolishing the whole struc