d lady could
not be tempted to call it so, for she had always lived on High Street,
indeed was born there, and she didn't see "why it wasn't the same street
that it always was." The good-sized brick house in which she lived was
particularly dear to Mrs. Gordon, since in it she first saw the light
of this world, and in it some of her pleasantest child-days had been
spent. So when upon their arrival she saw Tom boyishly stop to swing on
the linked iron chains which marked the front entrance to the house, she
herself was swinging on them, as in the olden days.

Upon entering the house, she found herself spontaneously going, just as
she used to do, through the hall to the piazza on the back of the house,
to catch a glimpse of the fresh green garden, with its summer
houses--one of which enclosed the well--which to her youthful eye had
been so grand. How prettily the nasturtiums, growing over the wall,
adorned the time-honored lane by the house! No wonder that they had
caught the artistic eye of Enneking. For these nasturtiums, with the
dear old lane which had known her childish feet, the large elm tree, and
even a portion of the house itself, as caught by his genius, had greeted
her eye when a short time before she had been in New York city. Then the
house had another and peculiar interest, since it had been dedicated,
like a church. A relative of hers, a well-to-do sea-captain, had built
it some fifty years ago, and although he was no professor of religion,
yet he conceived this idea concerning it. Perhaps the size of the house
had suggested this to him, since it was a large one for those days.
Everybody thought it was so strange to have the minister come and hold a
regular dedication service. The house was full of people to witness it.
But when, many years afterward, the first services of a church which was
formed from the old one were held in the parlors of this very house,
many thought Captain Allen's act prophetic.

The morning after the arrival of the Gordon family at this interesting
brick house, familiar to all old frequenters of Manchester, Mr. Gordon
made arrangements for a ride around the town. Every year, he said, had
something new to show. They went first in the direction of Gale's Point.
The sight of the comfortable Smith farm, where Mrs. Gordon used to visit
when a girl, brought to her mind the fact that the whole of this Gale's
Point, where now there were no less than sixteen fine houses was then a
part of t