here he was standing.

"Go out, I tell you!" Slade spoke resolutely.

"Would be happy to oblige you," Frank said, in a taunting voice; "but,
'pon my word, it isn't at all convenient."

Half intoxicated as he was, and already nearly blind with passion,
Slade lifted his hand to strike his son. And the blow would have fallen
had not some one caught his arm, and held him back from the meditated
violence. Even the debased visitors of this bar-room could not stand by
and see nature outraged in a bloody strife between father and son; for
it was plain from the face and quickly assumed attitude of Frank, that
if his father had laid his hand upon him, he would have struck him in
return.

I could not remain to hear the awful imprecations that father and son,
in their impotent rage, called down from heaven upon each other's
heads. It was the most shocking exhibition of depraved human nature
that I had ever seen. And so I left the bar-room, glad to escape from
its stifling atmosphere and revolting scenes.

NIGHT THE NINTH.

A FEARFUL CONSUMMATION.

Neither Slade nor his son was present at the breakfast-table on the
next morning. As for myself, I did not eat with much appetite. Whether
this defect arose from the state of my mind, or the state of the food
set before me, I did not stop to inquire; but left the stifling,
offensive atmosphere of the dining-room in a very few moments after
entering that usually attractive place for a hungry man.

A few early drinkers were already in the bar-room--men with shattered
nerves and cadaverous faces, who could not begin the day's work without
the stimulus of brandy or whisky. They came in, with gliding footsteps,
asked for what they wanted in low voices, drank in silence, and
departed. It was a melancholy sight to look upon.

About nine o'clock the landlord made his appearance. He, too, came
gliding into the bar-room, and his first act was to seize upon a brandy
decanter, pour out nearly half a pint of the fiery liquid, and drink it
off. How badly his hand shook--so badly that he spilled the brandy both
in pouring it out and in lifting the glass to his lips! What a
shattered wreck he was! He looked really worse now than he did on the
day before, when drink gave an artificial vitality to his system, a
tension to his muscles, and light to his countenance. The miller of ten
years ago, and the tavern-keeper of today! Who could have identified
them as one?

Slade was turning from