n explained how the tavern had lost its custom when the
old stage line was broken up by the railroad. The introduction of steam
was, in Mr. Sewell's estimation, a fatal error. "Jest killed local
business. Carried it off, I 'm darned if I know where. The whole country
has been sort o' retrograding ever sence steam was invented."

"You spoke of having one boarder," I said.

"Silas? Yes; he come here the summer 'Tilda died--she that was 'Tilda
Bayley--and he 's here yet, going on thirteen year. He could n't live
any longer with the old man. Between you and I, old Clem Jaffrey,
Silas's father, was a hard nut. Yes," said Mr. Sewell, crooking his
elbow in inimitable pantomime, "altogether too often. Found dead in the
road hugging a three-gallon demijohn. _Habeas corpus_ in the barn,"
added Mr. Sewell, intending, I presume, to intimate that a _post-mortem_
examination had been deemed necessary. "Silas," he resumed, in that
respectful tone which one should always adopt when speaking of capital,
"is a man of considerable property; lives on his interest, and keeps a
hoss and shay. He 's a great scholar, too, Silas; takes all the
pe-ri-odicals and the Police Gazette regular."

Mr. Sewell was turning over a third chop, when the door opened and a
stoutish, middle-aged little gentleman, clad in deep black, stepped into
the room.

"Silas Jaffrey," said Mr. Sewell, with a comprehensive sweep of his
arm, picking up me and the new-comer on one fork, so to speak. "Be
acquainted!"

Mr. Jaffrey advanced briskly, and gave me his hand with unlooked-for
cordiality. He was a dapper little man, with a head as round and nearly
as bald as an orange, and not unlike an orange in complexion, either;
he had twinkling gray eyes and a pronounced Roman nose, the numerous
freckles upon which were deepened by his funereal dress-coat and
trousers. He reminded me of Alfred de Musset's blackbird, which, with
its yellow beak and sombre plumage, looked like an undertaker eating an
omelet.

"Silas will take care of you," said Mr. Sewell, taking down his hat from
a peg behind the door. "I 've got the cattle to look after. Tell him, if
you want anything."

While I ate my breakfast, Mr. Jaffrey hopped up and down the narrow
bar-room and chirped away as blithely as a bird on a cherry-bough,
occasionally ruffling with his fingers a slight fringe of auburn hair
which stood up pertly round his head and seemed to possess a luminous
quality of its own.

"Don't