se and lot in the
town for five hundred dollars less than he paid for them, a year
ago--and for just that sum less than their true value."

"How came that?" I inquired.

"Ah! there's the question! He wanted money; though for what purpose he
has not intimated to any one, as far as I can learn."

"What do you think of it?"

"Just this. He and Green have been hunting together in times past; but
the professed gambler's instincts are too strong to let him spare even
his friend in evil. They have commenced playing one against the other."

"Ah! you think so?"

"I do; and if I conjecture rightly, Simon Slade will be a poorer man,
in a year from this time, than he is now."

Here our conversation was interrupted. Some one asked my talkative
friend to go and take a drink, and he, nothing loath, left me without
ceremony.

Very differently served was the supper I partook of on that evening,
from the one set before me on the occasion of my first visit to the
"Sickle and Sheaf." The table-cloth was not merely soiled, but
offensively dirty; the plates, cups, and saucers, dingy and sticky; the
knives and forks unpolished; and the food of a character to satisfy the
appetite with a very few mouthfuls. Two greasy-looking Irish girls
waited on the table, at which neither landlord nor landlady presided. I
was really hungry when the supper-bell rang; but the craving of my
stomach soon ceased in the atmosphere of the dining-room, and I was the
first to leave the table.

Soon after the lamps were lighted, company began to assemble in the
spacious bar-room, where were comfortable seats, with tables,
newspapers, backgammon boards, dominoes, etc. The first act of nearly
every one who came in was to call for a glass of liquor; and sometimes
the same individual drank two or three times in the course of half an
hour, on the invitation of new comers who were convivially inclined.

Most of those who came in were strangers to me. I was looking from face
to face to see if any of the old company were present, when one
countenance struck me as familiar. I was studying it, in order, if
possible, to identify the person, when some one addressed him as
"Judge."

Changed as the face was, I now recognized it as that of Judge Lyman.
Five years had marred that face terribly. It seemed twice the former
size; and all its bright expression was gone. The thickened and
protruding eyelids half closed the leaden eyes, and the swollen lips
and cheeks gave t