d in the changed features I
recognized Judge Hammond. His complexion was still florid, but his face
had grown thin, and his eyes were sunken. Trouble was written in every
lineament. Trouble? How inadequately does the word express my meaning!
Ah! at a single glance, what a volume of suffering was opened to the
gazer's eye. Not lightly had the foot of time rested there, as if
treading on odorous flowers, but heavily, and with iron-shod heel. This
I saw at a glance; and then, only the image of the man was present to
my inner vision, for the swiftly rolling stage-coach had borne me
onward past the altered home of the wealthiest denizen of Cedarville.
In a few minutes our driver reined up before the "Sickle and Sheaf,"
and as I stepped to the ground, a rotund, coarse, red-faced man, whom I
failed to recognize as Simon Slade until he spoke, grasped my hand, and
pronounced my name. I could not but contrast, in thought, his
appearance with what it was when I first saw him, some six years
previously; nor help saying to myself:

"So much for tavern-keeping!"

As marked a change was visible everywhere in and around the "Sickle and
Sheaf." It, too, had grown larger by additions of wings and rooms; but
it had also grown coarser in growing larger. When built, all the doors
were painted white, and the shutters green, giving to the house a neat,
even tasteful appearance. But the white and green had given place to a
dark, dirty brown, that to my eyes was particularly unattractive. The
bar-room had been extended, and now a polished brass rod, or railing,
embellished the counter, and sundry ornamental attractions had been
given to the shelving behind the bar--such as mirrors, gilding, etc.
Pictures, too, were hung upon the walls, or more accurately speaking;
coarse colored lithographs, the subjects of which, if not really
obscene, were flashing, or vulgar. In the sitting-room, next to the
bar, I noticed little change of objects, but much in their condition.
The carpet, chairs, and tables were the same in fact, but far from
being the same in appearance. The room had a close, greasy odor, and
looked as if it had not been thoroughly swept and dusted for a week.

A smart young Irishman was in the bar, and handed me the book in which
passenger's names were registered. After I had recorded mine, he
directed my trunk to be carried to the room designated as the one I was
to occupy. I followed the porter, who conducted me to the chamber which
h