ed prominent people in the neighborhood.

Hosford was remembered as a slow-going, easy-conditioned, good-natured
fellow, but as honest as the day was long; and no one had ever known
aught against his wife, save that some of the old gossips thought that
she had brought too much jewelry and fine clothing into the neighborhood
with her. This, however, she had judiciously kept out of sight as much
as possible, and, as far as could be learned, had led in every respect
an exemplary life.

From this point Mr. Bangs proceeded to Kalamazoo. The Nettleton family
were gone, no one knew where; but here he was told of the escapade to
Detroit of Lilly Nettleton years before, enough of which had floated
back to her native place--coupled with the old people's later sorrows,
which were largely dilated upon--to account for the breaking up of the
family and its members being scattered broadcast.

Accidentally at Kalamazoo, in conversation with the clerk at the
Kalamazoo House, who had formerly been employed at Detroit, and who was
"up to snuff," as he termed it, Bangs learned of Mother Blake, who had
informed the clerk of Bland's unfortunate experience with one Lilly
Mercer. He also got from the clerk a description of Mother Blake
sufficiently comprehensive to enable him to find her if she were still
at Detroit, where he at once proceeded.

On arriving in that city he went to the Michigan Exchange Hotel, and,
through the courtesy of the proprietors, was allowed to look up the
records of the house.

It was fifteen years previous that the man who said he was "from Bland"
met Lilly Nettleton at the depot and had taken her to the Michigan
Exchange to meet the reverend circuit-rider; but after he had got at the
dusty records he found on the register, evidently in the handwriting of
a clerk: "Lilly Mercer, Buffalo, Room 34," under date of August 15,
1856, and also the names of "R. J. Hosford, Terre Haute, Room 98," and
"Lilly Nettleton, Kalamazoo, Room 34," in a cramped and almost illegible
hand under date of November 28th of the same year; and on the next day's
page, in the same hand: "R. J. Hosford and wife, Terre Haute, Room 34."

The next step was to hunt up Mother Blake, which was not a very hard
matter, as women of her character generally run in the same noisome rut,
until they are swept from the great highway with other pestilences of
life, and pass from bitter existence and infamous memory; and after one
or two evenings running ab