f the house,
and Simon Slade again left me to answer the demands of some new-comer.
I went into the bar-room, in order to take a closer observation of
Willy Hammond, in whom an interest, not unmingled with concern, had
already been awakened in my mind. I found him engaged in a pleasant
conversation with a plain-looking farmer, whose homely, terse, common
sense was quite as conspicuous as his fine play of words and lively
fancy. The farmer was a substantial conservative, and young Hammond a
warm admirer of new ideas and the quicker adaptation of means to ends.
I soon saw that his mental powers were developed beyond his years,
while his personal qualities were strongly attractive. I understood
better, after being a silent listener and observer for ten minutes, why
the landlord had spoken of him so warmly.

"Take a brandy-toddy, Mr. H--?" said Hammond, after the discussion
closed, good humoredly. "Frank, our junior bar-keeper here, beats his
father, in that line."

"I don't care if I do," returned the farmer; and the two passed up to
the bar.

"Now, Frank, my boy, don't belie my praises," said the young man; "do
your handsomest."

"Two brandy-toddies, did you say?" Frank made inquiry with quite a
professional air.

"Just what I did say; and let them be equal to Jove's nectar."

Pleased at this familiarity, the boy went briskly to his work of mixing
the tempting compound, while Hammond looked on with an approving smile.

"There," said the latter, as Frank passed the glasses across the
counter, "if you don't call that first-rate, you're no judge." And he
handed one of them to the farmer, who tasted the agreeable draught, and
praised its flavor. As before, I noticed that Hammond drank eagerly,
like one athirst--emptying his glass without once taking it from his
lips.

Soon after the bar-room was empty; and then I walked around the
premises, in company with the landlord, and listened to his praise of
everything and his plans and purposes for the future. The house, yard,
garden, and out-buildings were in the most perfect order; presenting,
in the whole, a model of a village tavern.

"Whatever I do, sir," said the talkative Simon Slade, "I like to do
well. I wasn't just raised to tavern-keeping, you must know; but I am
one who can turn his hand to almost any thing."

"What was your business?" I inquired.

"I'm a miller, sir, by trade," he answered--"and a better miller,
though I say it myself, is not to be found i