Following May Street to Pond Street, we come to the beautiful estate now owned by Mr. Edward Rice, and formerly by Mr. John J. Low, and here ready fancy rears again the vanished walls of a stately mansion, three stories in height, first occupied by another of the Tory gentry, Sir Francis Barnard, the royal governor of Massachusetts from 1760 to 1769, -- the period of our greatest historic interest. The beautiful sloping lawn, shaded with lofty English elms, gave a charming setting to the house, while broad acres highly cultivated, filled with choice fruit trees, plants, and shrubs, including orange, lemon, fig, cork, and cinnamon trees, and other rare exotics, added grandeur and beauty to the landscape. One can easily call back the old-time scenes within this mansion, of stately official pomp, of social gayety, of dinners and balls, where the brocade and stain and lace, in towering head-gear, and ample panniers; and where the cavaliers rivaled the ladies in their powered wigs, gorgeous velvet coats and stain waistcoats, ruffled shirt-fronts, small breeches and silken hose. We catch a glimpse of them as they troop through the broad hall (fifty-four feet long and twenty feet wide), and the wainscoted tapestried rooms, on the stately minuet or the livelier contra-dances, and possibly recognize the forms and faces of Adams, Hancock, Otis, Warren, and Quincy. Governor Barnard was an Englishman, a graduate of Oxford, a man of erudition and large wealth. He had remarkable conversational powers, and so tenacious a memory that he boasted he could repeat all of Shakespeare's plays. He was a zealous advocate of the claims of the Crown, and through professing to sympathize with the men associated with him in their resistance to unjust taxation, and other coercive measures to the royal government, he secretly worked against them, and used his influence to have the British regiments sent to Boston, and thus initiated the war. After holding his high office for nearly ten years, he was recalled to England, in response to a petition from the House of Representatives that "he might be forever removed from the Government of the Province." As he departed from Boston the bells were rung, cannon fired from the wharves, and the Liberty Tree hung gaily with flags; so great was to joy of the people to be rid of him. Lady Bernard did not leave Jamaica Plain until a year later -- in 1770. Sir William Pepperell was the next resident of this house for about three years. He was a graduate of Harvard, and, in 1776, became a member of the Council, and was avowedly in sympathy with the royal cause. During the siege this house was also occupied by the patriotic troops, and later used as a hospital. The soldiers who died here were buried on the hill in the rear of the house. This property was confiscated in 1779 by the State, and purchased by Mr. Martin Brimmer, a Boston merchant, who died here in 1804. Captain John Prince next owned it, and took down the old