midnight
With such a lingering fire , methought , with such a dying gleam , had the glory of the ancient system vanished from the province-house when the spirit of old Esther Dudley took its flight . And now , again , the clock of the Old South threw its voice of ages on the breeze , knolling the hourly knell of the past , crying out far and wide through the multitudinous city , and filling our ears , as we sat in the dusky chamber , with its reverberating depth of tone . In that same mansion -- in that very chamber -- what a volume of history had been told off into hours by the same voice that was now trembling in the air ! Many a governor had heard those midnight accents and longed to exchange his stately cares for slumber . And , as for mine host and Mr. Bela Tiffany and the old loyalist and me , we had babbled about dreams of the past until we almost fancied that the clock was still striking in a bygone century . Neither of us would have wondered had a hoop-petticoated phantom of Esther Dudley tottered into the chamber , walking her rounds in the hush of midnight as of yore , and motioned us to quench the fading embers of the fire and leave the historic precincts to herself and her kindred shades . But , as no such vision was vouchsafed , I retired unbidden , and would advise Mr. Tiffany to lay hold of another auditor , being resolved not to show my face in the Province House for a good while hence -- if ever .