"Yes, sir; and the day is so dull and cloudy that you'll not see half the prominent buildings, never mind the whole of the former and not so easily seen houses. You intend taking a full view, don't you, sir?"
"Why, yes, I would like to," says I, partly lost to conceive what caused such a sudden and unaccountable ebullition of the man's great interest in my getting "a first rate notice" of matters and things from the top of the capitol! But up I went, in spite of my attentive friend's fears of my not getting quite so clear and distinct a view as he could wish. Having gratified myself with such a view as the weather and the height of the capitol afforded (and in clear weather you can get far the best survey of Boston and the environs from the top of the State House than from any other promontory about), I descended again. At the foot of the stairway my assiduous cicerone again beset me, introduced several other miscellaneous-looking chaps to me, and, in short, was making of me, why or wherefore I knew not, quite a lion!
"Well, sir," said he, "what do you think of it, sir? Could you get the outline?"
"Not very well," said I, "but the view is very fine."
"O, yes, sir," said he; "but as soon as you wish to begin, sir, let me know, and I'll lock the upper doors when you go up, and you'll not be disturbed, sir."
"Lock the doors?" said I, in some amazement.
"Yes, sir," quoth he, "but it would be best to come as early in the morning as possible, or, if convenient, before the visitors begin to come up; they'd disturb you, you know!"
"Disturb me! Why, I don't know how they would do that?"
"Why, sir, when Mr. Smith—you know Mr. Smith, sir, I suppose?"
"Why, yes; the name strikes me as somewhat familiar; do you refer to John Smith?" I observed, beginning to participate in the joke, which began to develop itself pretty distinctly.