ry Street what was called 〃a piece goods store。〃 He was the third Timothy in his monotonous family； and in order to differentiate himself he inscribed on the sign over his shop door； 〃Timothy Winn； 3d；〃 and was ever after called 〃Three…Penny Winn。〃 That he enjoyed the pleasantry； and clung to his sign； goes to show that he was a person who would ripen on further acquaintance； were further acquaintance now practicable。 His next…door neighbor； Mr。 Leonard Serat； who kept a modest tailoring establishment； also tantalizes us a little with a dim intimation of originality。 He plainly was without literary prejudices； for on one face of his swinging sign was painted the word Taylor； and on the other Tailor。 This may have been a delicate concession to that part of the communitythe greater part； probablywhich would have spelled it with a y。
The building in which Messrs。 Winn and Serat had their shops was the property of Nicholas Rousselet； a French gentleman of Demerara； the story of whose unconventional courtship of Miss Catherine Moffatt is pretty enough to bear retelling； and entitles him to a place in our limited collection of etchings。 M。 Rousselet had doubtless already mad excursions into the pays de tendre； and given Miss Catherine previous notice of the state of his heart； but it was not until one day during the hour of service at the Episcopal church that he brought matters to a crisis by handing to Miss Moffatt a small Bible； on the fly…leaf of which he had penciled the fifth verse of the Second Epistle of John
〃And now I beseech thee； lady； not as though I wrote a new commandment unto thee； but that which we had from the beginning； that we love one another。〃
This was not to be resisted； at lease not by Miss Catherine； who demurely handed the volume back to him with a page turned down at the sixteenth verse in the first chapter of Ruth
〃Whither thou goest； I will go； and where thou lodgest； I will lodge： thy people shall be my people； and thy God my God： where thou diest； will I die； and there will I be buried： the Lord do so to me； and more also； if aught but death part thee and me。〃
Aside from this quaint touch of romance； what attaches me to the happy pairfor the marriage was a fortunate oneis the fact that the Rousselets made their home in the old Atkinson mansion； which stood directly opposite my grandfather's house on Court Street and was torn down in my childhood； to my great consternation。 The building had been unoccupied for a quarter of a century； and was fast falling into decay with all its rich wood…carvings at cornice and lintel； but was it not full of ghosts； and if the old barracks were demolished； would not these ghosts； or some of them at least； take refuge in my grandfather's house just across the way？ Where else could they bestow themselves so conveniently？ While the ancient mansion was in process of destruction； I used to peep round the corner of our barn at the workmen； and watch the indignant phantoms go soaring upward in spiral clouds of colonial dust。
A lady differing in many ways from Catherine Moffatt was the Mary Atkinson （once an inmate of this same manor house） who fell to the lot of the Rev。 William Shurtleff； pastor of the South Church between 1733 and 1747。 From the worldly standpoint； it was a fine match for the Newcastle clergymanbeauty； of the eagle…beaked kind； wealth； her share of the family plate； high birth； a sister to the Hon。 Theodore Atkinson。 But if the exemplary man had cast his eyes lower； peradventure he had found more happiness； though ill…bred persons without family plate are not necessarily amiable。 Like Socrates； this long…suffering divine had always with him an object on which to cultivate heavenly patience； and patience； says the Eastern proverb； is the key to content。 The spirit of Xantippe seems to have taken possession of Mrs。 Shurtleff immediately after her marriage。 The freakish disrespect with which she used her meek consort was a heavy cross to bear at a period in New England when clerical dignity was at its highest sensitive point。 Her devices for torturing the poor gentleman were inexhaustible。 Now she lets his Sabbath ruffs go unstarched； now she scandalizes him by some unseemly and frivolous color in her attire； now she leaves him to cook his own dinner at the kitchen coals； and now she locks him in his study； whither he has retired for a moment or two of prayer； previous to setting forth to perform the morning service。 The congregation has assembled； the sexton has tolled the bell twice as long as is custom； and is beginning a third carillon； full of wonder that his reverence does not appear； and there sits Mistress Shurtleff in the family pew with a face as complacent as that of the cat that has eaten the canary。 Presently the deacons appeal to her for information touching the good doctor。 Mistress Shurtleff sweetly tells them that the good doctor was in his study when she left home。 There he is found； indeed； and released from durance； begging the deacons to keep his mortification secret； to 〃give it an understanding； but no tongue。〃 Such was the discipline undergone by the worthy Dr。 Shurtleff on his earthly pilgrimage。 A portrait of this patient mannow a saint somewherehangs in the rooms of the New England Historical and Genealogical Society in Boston。 There he can be seen in surplice and bands； with his lamblike； apostolic face looking down upon the heavy antiquarian labors of his busy descendants。
Whether or not a man is to be classed as eccentric who vanishes without rhyme or reason on his wedding…night is a query left to the reader's decision。 We seem to have struck a matrimonial vein； and must work it out。 In 1768； Mr。 James McDonough was one of the wealthiest men in Portsmouth； and the fortunate suitor for the hand of a daughter of Jacob Sheafe； a town magnate。 The home of the bride was decked and lighted for the nuptials； the banquet…table was spread； and the guests were gathered。 The minister in his robe stood by the carven mantelpiece； book in hand； and waited。 Then followed an awkward intervalthere was a hitch somewhere。 A strange silence fell upon the laughing groups； the air grew tense with expectation； in the pantry； Amos Boggs； the butler； in his agitation split a bottle of port over his new cinnamon…colored small…clothes。 Then a whispera whisper suppressed these twenty minutesran through the apartments；〃The bridegroom has not come！〃。 He never came。 The mystery of that night remains a mystery after the lapse of a century and a quarter。
What had become of James McDonough？ The assassination of so notable a person in a community where every strange face was challenged； where every man's antecedents were known； could not have been accomplished without leaving some slight traces。 Not a shadow of foul play was discovered。 That McDonough had been murdered or had committed suicide were theories accepted at first by a few； and then by no one。 On the other hand； he was in love with his fiancee； he had wealth； power； positionwhy had he fled？ He was seen a moment on the public street； and then never seen again。 It was as if he turned into air。 Meanwhile the bewilderment of the bride was dramatically painful。 If McDonough had been waylaid and killed； she could mourn for him。 If he had deserted her； she could wrap herself in her pride。 But neither course lay open to her； then or afterward。 In one of the Twice Told Tales Hawthorne deals with a man named Wakefield； who disappears with like suddenness； and lives unrecognized for twenty years in a street not far from his abandoned hearthside。 Such expunging of one's self was not possible in Portsmouth； but I never think of McDonough without recalling Wakefield。 I have an inexplicable conviction that for many a year James McDonough； in some snug ambush； studied and analyzed the effect of his own startling disappearance。
Some time in the year 1758； there dawned upon Portsmouth a personage bearing the ponderous title of King's Attorney； and carrying much gold lace about him。 This gilded gentleman was Mr。 Wyseman Clagett； of Bristol； England； where his father dwelt on the manor of Broad Oaks； in a mansion with twelve chimneys； and kept a coach and eight or ten servants。 Up to the moment of his advent in the colonies； Mr。 Wyseman Clagett had evidently not been able to keep anything but himself。 His wealth consisted of his personal decorations； the golden frogs on his lapels； and the tinsel at his throat； other charms he had none。 Yet with these he contrived to dazzle the eyes of Lettice Mitchel； one of the young beauties of the province； and to cause her to forget that she had plighted troth with a Mr。 Warner； then in Europe； and destined to return home with a disturbed heart。 Mr。 Clagett was a man of violent temper and ingenious vindictiveness； and proved more than a sufficient punishment for Lettice's infidelity。 The trifling fact that Warner was deadhe died shortly after his returndid not interfere with the course of Mr。 Clagett's jealousy； he was haunted by the suspicion that Lettice regretted her first love； having left nothing undone to make her do so。 〃This is to pay Warner's debts；〃 remarked Mr。 Clagett； as he twitched off the table…cloth and wrecked the tea…things。
In his of