hed
in a pleased way, as he replied: "I guess I'll do."

"I guess you will," said Green, as, satisfied with his colloquy, he
turned off and left the bar-room.

"Have something to drink, sir?" inquired Frank, addressing me in a
bold, free way.

I shook my head.

"Here's a newspaper," he added.

I took the paper and sat down--not to read, but to observe. Two or
three men soon came in, and spoke in a very familiar way to Frank, who
was presently busy setting out the liquors they had called for. Their
conversation, interlarded with much that was profane and vulgar, was of
horses, horse-racing, gunning, and the like, to all of which the young
bar-tender lent an attentive ear, putting in a word now and then, and
showing an intelligence in such matters quite beyond his age. In the
midst thereof, Mr. Slade made his appearance. His presence caused a
marked change in Frank, who retired from his place among the men, a
step or two outside of the bar, and did not make a remark while his
father remained. It was plain from this, that Mr. Slade was not only
aware of Frank's dangerous precocity, but had already marked his
forwardness by rebuke.

So far, all that I had seen and heard impressed me unfavorably,
notwithstanding the declaration of Simon Slade, that everything about
the "Sickle and Sheaf" was coming on "first-rate," and that he was
"perfectly satisfied" with his experiment. Why, even if the man had
gained, in money, fifty thousand dollars by tavern-keeping in a year,
he had lost a jewel in the innocence of his boy that was beyond all
valuation. "Perfectly satisfied?" Impossible! He was not perfectly
satisfied. How could he be? The look thrown upon Frank when he entered
the bar-room, and saw him "hale fellow, well met," with three or four
idle, profane, drinking customers, contradicted that assertion.

After supper, I took a seat in the bar-room, to see how life moved on
in that place of rendezvous for the surface-population of Cedarville.
Interest enough in the characters I had met there a year before
remained for me to choose this way of spending the time, instead of
visiting at the house of a gentleman who had kindly invited me to pass
an evening with his family.

The bar-room custom, I soon found, had largely increased in a year. It
now required, for a good part of the time, the active services of both
the landlord and his son to meet the calls for liquor. What pained me
most, was to see the large number of lads