have slept in, and a chintz
petticoat which reached the floor and hid its toes of rollers, which the
dear lady could have made with her own hands; there was a most ancient
mahogany bureau to match, all brass fittings. There were easy chairs
with restful arms within reach of tables holding lamps, ash receivers
and the like; and rows and rows of books on open shelves edged with
leather; not to mention engravings of distinguished men and old
portraits in heavy gilt frames: one of his grandfather who fought in the
Revolution, and another of his mother--this last by Rembrandt Peale--a
dear old lady with the face of a saint framed in a head of gray hair,
the whole surmounted by a cluster of silvery curls. There were quaint
brass candelabra with square marble bases on each end of the mantel,
holding candles showing burnt wicks in the day time and cheery lights at
night; and a red carpet covering both rooms and red table covers and
red damask curtains, and a lounge with a red afghan thrown over it; and
last, but by no means least--in fact it was the most important thing
in the sitting-room, so far as comfort was concerned--there was a big
open-hearth Franklin, full of blazing red logs, with brass andirons and
fender, and a draught of such marvellous suction that stray scraps of
paper, to say nothing of uncommonly large sparks, had been known
more than once to have been picked up in a jiffy and whirled into its
capacious throat.

Just the very background for dear old Peter, I always said, whenever
I watched him moving about the cheery interior, pushing up a chair,
lighting a fresh candle, or replacing a book on the shelf. What a
half-length the great Sully would have made of him, with his high
collar, white shirt-front and wonderful neck-cloth with its pleats and
counterpleats, to say nothing of his rosy cheeks and bald head, the
high light glistening on one of his big bumps of benevolence. And what a
background of deep reds and warm mahoganys with a glint of yellow brass
for contrast!

Indeed, I have often thought that not only Peter's love of red, but much
of Peter's quaintness of dress, had been suggested by some of the old
portraits which lined the walls of his sitting-room--his grandfather,
by Sully, among them; and I firmly believe, although I assure you I have
never mentioned it to any human being before, that had custom permitted
(the directors of his bank, perhaps), Peter would not only have indulged
in the high coat-