Produced by Judy Boss. HTML version by Al Haines. Transcriber's Note: I have closed contractions in the text, e.g., "did n't" becoming "didn't" for example; I have also added the missing period after "caress" in line 11 of page 61, and have changed "ever" to "over" in line 16 of page 121. OLDPORT DAYS. BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON. BOSTON: LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. NEW YORK: CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM. 1888. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. University Press: JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE. CONTENTS. OLDPORT IN WINTER OLDPORT WHARVES THE HAUNTED WINDOW A DRIFT-WOOD FIRE AN ARTIST'S CREATION IN A WHERRY MADAM DELIA'S EXPECTATIONS SUNSHINE AND PETRARCH A SHADOW FOOTPATHS OLDPORT DAYS. OLDPORT IN WINTER. Our August life rushes by, in Oldport, as if we were all shot from the mouth of a cannon, and were endeavoring to exchange visiting-cards on the way. But in September, when the great hotels are closed, and the bronze dogs that guarded the portals of the Ocean House are collected sadly in the music pavilion, nose to nose; when the last four-in-hand has departed, and a man may drive a solitary horse on the avenue without a pang,--then we know that "the season" is over. Winter is yet several months away,--months of the most delicious autumn weather that the American climate holds. But to the human bird of passage all that is not summer is winter; and those who seek Oldport most eagerly for two months are often those who regard it as uninhabitable for the other ten. The Persian poet Saadi says that in a certain region of Armenia, where he travelled, people never died the natural death. But once a year they met on a certain plain, and occupied themselves with recreation, in the midst of which individuals of every rank and age would suddenly stop, make a reverence to the west, and, setting out at full speed toward that part of the desert, be seen no more. It is quite in this fashion that guests disappear from Oldport when the season ends. They also are apt to go toward the west, but by steamboat. It is pathetic, on occasion of each annual bereavement, to observe the wonted looks and language of despair among those who linger behind; and it needs some fortitude to think of spending the winter near such a Wharf of Sighs.