"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 and young men who came in to
lounge and drink; and there was scarcely one of them whose face did not
show marks of sensuality, or whose language was not marred by
obscenity, profanity, or vulgar slang. The subjects of conversation
were varied enough, though politics was the most prominent. In regard
to politics I heard nothing in the least instructive; but only abuse of
individuals and dogmatism on public measures. They were all exceedingly
confident in assertion; but I listened in vain for exposition, or even
for demonstrative facts. He who asseverated in the most positive
manner, and swore the hardest, carried the day in the petty contests.
I noticed, early in the evening, and at a time when all the inmates of
the room were in the best possible humor with themselves, the entrance
of an elderly man, on whose face I instantly read a deep concern. It
was one of those mild, yet strongly marked faces, that strike you at a
glance. The forehead was broad, the eyes large and far back in their
sockets, the lips full but firm. You saw evidences of a strong, but
well-balanced character. As he came in, I noticed a look of
intelligence pass from one to another; and then the eyes of two or
three were fixed upon a young man who was seated not far from me, with
his back to the entrance, playing at dominoes. He had a glass of ale by
his side. The old man searched about the room for some moments, before
his glance rested upon the individual I have mentioned. My eyes were
full upon his face, as he advanced toward him, as yet unseen. Upon it
was not a sign of angry excitement, but a most touching sorrow.
"Edward!" he said, as he laid his hand gently on the young man's
shoulder. The latter started at the voice, and crimsoned deeply. A few
moments he sat irresolute.
"Edward, my son!" It would have been a cold, hard heart indeed that
softened not under the melting tenderness of these tones. The call was
irresistible, and obedience a necessity. The powers of evil had, yet,
too feeble a grasp on the young man's heart to hold him in thrall.
Rising with a half-reluctant manner, and with a shamefacedness that it
was impossible to conceal, he retired as quietly as possible. The
notice of only a few in the bar-room was attracted by the incident.
"I can tell you what," I heard the individual, with whom the young man
had been playing at dominoes, remark--himself not twenty years of
age--"if my old man were to make a fool of himself in this
way--sneaking around after me in bar-rooms-he'd get only his trouble
for his pains. I'd like to see him try it, though! There'd be a nice
time of it, I guess. Wouldn't I creep off with him, as meek as a lamb!
Ho! ho!"
"Who is that old gentleman who came in just now?" I inquired of the
person who thus commented on the incident which had just occurred.
"Mr. Hargrove is his name."
"And that was his son?"
"Yes; and I'm only sorry he doesn't possess a little more spirit."
"How old is he?"
"About twenty."
"Not of legal age, then?"
"He's old enough to be his own master."
"The law says differently," I suggested.
In answer, the young man cursed the law, snapping his fingers in its
imaginary face as he did so.
"At least you will admit," said I, "that Edward Hargrove, in the use of
a liberty to go where he pleases, and do what he pleases, exhibits but
small discretion."
"I will admit no such thing. What harm is there, I would like to know,
in a social little game such as we were playing? There were no
stakes--we were not gambling."