They had races too,--that is, the governor's set,--and one of my delights
was, on the way to the academy, to stop in Third street, above Chestnut,
and see the race-horses in the Widow Nichols's stables at the sign of the
Indian Queen.

But I have left the laughter of the last century echoing among the columns
of Andrew Hamilton's home. The guests were made welcome, and had a dish of
tea or a glass of punch; and those desiring no more bohea set a spoon
across the cup, and fell into groups. My aunt opened the velvet bag which
hung at her waist, to pay Mrs. Ferguson a small gambling debt of the night
before.

"Ah, here!" she cried gaily, "Mr. Montresor, this is for you. One of Mr.
Grenville's stamps; I kept two. I was lucky enough to get them from Master
Hughes, the stamp officer--a great curiosity. You shall have one."

Mr. Montresor bowed. "I will keep it," he said, "until it comes into use
again."

"That will be never," said Andrew Allen, turning.

"Never!" repeated Miss Wynne. "Let us hope, sir, it may be a lesson to all
future ministers."

"A man was wanted in New York in place of Mr. Gage," cried Mrs. Ferguson.
"As to those New England Puritans, they were in rebellion before they came
over, and have been ever since."

"And what of New York, and this town, and Virginia?" said my Aunt Gainor,
with her great nose well up.