Around the room were formerly a great many pictures of the family. Among them was a choice painting by Copley of the beautiful Dorothy Quincy who became the wife of John Hancock, and who came frequently to visit in Portsmouth. There were wonderful pictures of Secretary Waldron, who was killed by the Indians at Dover, and also of his son Westbrook. Sofas and rare bits of colonial furniture furnished the room in the governor's day, and the closely jointed, smooth white floors, which are none the worse for a century's wear, have been pressed by the feet of many a merry dancer. We look at pictures of the old-time occupants, in periwigs and silver buckles, who people the shadows in the dim grandeur of this wonderful old room. In one corner still stands a rack, with sixteen flint-locks, some of which have bayonets attached. This stand of arms was discovered by the present owner hidden away under plaster. Just what is concealed to-day in the old house is not known, for it has never been fully explored. Naturally one conjectures secret closets and hidden passageways, such as were built in many houses of that period. Beyond is the billiard-room. There is now no billiard table but instead a spinning-wheel, and a dainty, old-fashioned spinet upon which little Martha Wentworth learned to play. One wonders if it was in this room that Madam Wentworth dropped her ring to be picked up by the maid. All at once the maid became near-sighted, and it was not until Martha herself stooped down and touched her ring that it could be found. Several smaller rooms lead out of the billiard-room. They were used in the olden times as card-rooms, and here many a close rubber was played by the great and reverend patriots of the land. Underneath is a huge, rambling cellar where the builder of the mansion kept stalls for thirty horses, ready at a moment's notice to be off. The gun-rack in the hall of the Council Chamber does much to convince us that the great man whose personality is stamped so deeply on this interesting pile, must have led a very uneasy life. There were no descendants to inherit the old home, but he left a lasting memorial to himself in the house which embodied so many of his ideals. CHAPTER XIII THE FRANKLIN PIERCE HOUSE