th diversified and gaudy paraphernalia.

"Some troopers, I guess," commented the landlord in a tone which
indicated the coming of these guests was not entirely welcome to him.
"Yes," he added, discontentedly, "they're stage-folk, sure enough."

The wagon, which contained several persons, was driven into the stable
yard, where it was unloaded of "drops" and "wings," representing a
street, a forest, a prison, and so on, while the stage coach, with a
rattle and a jerk, and a final flourish of the driver's whip, stopped
at the front door. Springing to the ground, the driver opened the door
of the vehicle, and at the same time two other men, with their heads
muffled against the wind and rain, leisurely descended from the top.
The landlord now stood at the entrance of the inn, a sour expression
on his face. Certainly, if the travelers had expected in him the
traditional glowing countenance, with the apostolic injunction to "use
hospitality without grudging" writ upon it, they were doomed to
disappointment.

A rustle of skirts, and there emerged from the interior of the coach,
first, a little, dried-up old lady whose feet were enclosed in
prunella boots, with Indian embroidered moccasins for outside
protection; second, a young woman who hastily made her way into the
hostelry, displaying a trim pair of ankles; third, a lady resembling
the second and who the landlord afterwards learned was her sister;
fourth, a graceful girl above medium height, wearing one of those
provoking, quilted silk hoods of the day, with cherry-colored lining,
known as "Kiss-me-if-you-dare" hoods.

Then followed a dark melancholy individual, the utility man, whose
waistcoat of figured worsted was much frayed and whose "tooth-pick"
collar was the worse for the journey. He preceded a more natty person
in a bottle-green, "shad-belly" coat, who strove to carry himself as
though he were fashionably dressed, instead of wearing clothes which
no longer could conceal their shabbiness. The driver, called in
theatrical parlance "the old man," was a portly personage in a blue
coat with velvet collar and gilt buttons, a few of which were missing;
while the ruffles of his shirt were in sad plight, for instead of
protruding elegantly a good three or even four inches, their glory had
gone and they lay ignominiously flattened upon the bosom of the
wearer. A white choker rivaled in hue the tooth-pick collar of the
melancholy individual.

The tavern's stable boy imme