Neither Slade nor his son was present at the breakfast-table on the
next morning. As for myself, I did not eat with much appetite. Whether
this defect arose from the state of my mind, or the state of the food
set before me, I did not stop to inquire; but left the stifling,
offensive atmosphere of the dining-room in a very few moments after
entering that usually attractive place for a hungry man.
A few early drinkers were already in the bar-room--men with shattered
nerves and cadaverous faces, who could not begin the day's work without
the stimulus of brandy or whisky. They came in, with gliding footsteps,
asked for what they wanted in low voices, drank in silence, and
departed. It was a melancholy sight to look upon.
About nine o'clock the landlord made his appearance. He, too, came
gliding into the bar-room, and his first act was to seize upon a brandy
decanter, pour out nearly half a pint of the fiery liquid, and drink it
off. How badly his hand shook--so badly that he spilled the brandy both
in pouring it out and in lifting the glass to his lips! What a
shattered wreck he was! He looked really worse now than he did on the
day before, when drink gave an artificial vitality to his system, a
tension to his muscles, and light to his countenance. The miller of ten
years ago, and the tavern-keeper of today! Who could have identified
them as one?
Slade was turning from the bar, when a man? came in. I noticed an
instant change in the landlord's countenance. He looked startled;
almost frightened. The man drew a small package from his pocket, and
after selecting a paper therefrom, presented it to Slade, who received
it with a nervous reluctance, opened, and let his eye fall upon the
writing within. I was observing him closely at the time, and saw his
countenance flush deeply. In a moment or two it became pale
again--paler even than before.
"Very well--all right. I'll attend to it," said the landlord, trying to
recover himself, yet swallowing with every sentence.
The man who was no other than a sheriff's deputy, and who gave him a
sober, professional look, then went out with a firm step, and an air of
importance. As he passed through the outer door, Slade retired from the
bar-room.
"Trouble coming," I heard the bar-keeper remark, speaking partly to
himself and partly with the view, as was evident from his manner, of
leading me to question him. But this I did not feel that it was right
to do.
"Got the sheriff on him at last," added the bar-keeper.
"What's the matter, Bill?" inquired a man who now came in with a
bustling, important air, and leaned familiarly over the bar. "Who was
Jenkins after?"
"The old man," replied the bar-keeper, in a voice that showed pleasure
rather than regret.
"No!"
"It's a fact." Bill, the bar-keeper, actually smiled.
"What's to pay?" said the man.
"Don't know, and don't care much." "Did he serve a summons or an
execution?"
"Can't tell."
"Judge Lyman's suit went against him."
"Did it?"
"Yes; and I heard Judge Lyman swear, that if he got him on the hip,
he'd sell him out, bag and basket. And he's the man to keep his word."
"I never could just make out," said the bar-keeper, "how he ever came
to owe Judge Lyman so much. I've never known of any business
transactions between them."
"It's been dog eat dog, I rather guess," said the man.
"What do you mean by that?" inquired the bar-keeper.
"You've heard of dogs hunting in pairs?"
"Oh, yes."
"Well, since Harvey Green got his deserts, the business of fleecing our
silly young fellows, who happened to have more money than wit or
discretion, has been in the hands of Judge Lyman and Slade. They hunted
together, Slade holding the game, while the judge acted as
blood-sucker. But that business was interrupted about a year ago; and
game got so scarce that, as I suggested, dog began to eat dog. And here
comes the end of the matter, if I'm not mistaken. So mix us a stiff
toddy. I want one more good drink at the 'Sickle and Sheaf,' before the
colors are struck."
And the man chuckled at his witty effort.
During the day, I learned that affairs stood pretty much as this man
had conjectured. Lyman's suits had been on sundry notes payable on
demand; but nobody knew of any property transactions between him and
Slade. On the part of Slade, no defense had been made--the suit going
by default. The visit of the sheriff's officer was for the purpose of
serving an execution.
As I walked through Cedarville on that day, the whole aspect of the
place seemed changed. I questioned with myself, often, whether this
were really so, or only the effect of imagination. The change was from
cheerfulness and thrift, to gloom and neglect. There was, to me, a
brooding silence in the air; a pause in the life-movement; a folding of
the hands, so to speak, because hope had failed from the heart. The
residence of Mr. Harrison, who, some two years before, had suddenly
awakened to a lively sense of the evil of rum-selling, because his own
sons were discovered to be in danger, had been one of the most tasteful
in Cedarville. I had often stopped to admire the beautiful shrubbery
and flowers with which it was surrounded; the walks so clear--the
borders so fresh and even--the arbors so cool and inviting. There was
not a spot upon which the eye could rest, that did not show the hand of
taste. When I now came opposite to this house, I was not longer in
doubt as to the actuality of a change. There were no marked evidences
of neglect; but the high cultivation and nice regard for the small
details were lacking. The walks were cleanly swept; but the box-borders
were not so carefully trimmed. The vines and bushes that in former
times were cut and tied so evenly, could hardly have felt the keen
touch of the pruning-knife for months.
As I paused to note the change, a lady, somewhat beyond the middle age,
came from the house. I was struck by the deep gloom that overshadowed
her countenance. Ah! said I to myself, as I passed on, how many dear
hopes, that once lived in that heart, must have been scattered to the
winds. As I conjectured, this was Mrs. Harrison, and I was not
unprepared to hear, as I did a few hours afterward, that her two sons
had fallen into drinking habits; and, not only this, had been enticed
to the gaming-table. Unhappy mother! What a life-time of wretchedness
was compressed for thee into a few short years!
I walked on, noting, here and there, changes even more marked than
appeared about the residence of Mr. Harrison. Judge Lyman's beautiful
place showed utter neglect; and so did one or two others that, on my
first visit to Cedarville, charmed me with their order, neatness, and
cultivation. In every instance, I learned, on inquiring, that the
owners of these, or some members of their families, were, or had been,
visitors at the "Sickle and Sheaf"; and that the ruin, in progress or
completed, began after the establishment of that point of attraction in
the village.
Something of a morbid curiosity, excited by what I saw, led me on to
take a closer view of the residence of Judge Hammond than I had
obtained on the day before. The first thing that I noticed, on
approaching the old, decaying mansion, were handbills, posted on the
gate, the front-door, and on one of the windows. A nearer inspection
revealed their import. The property had been seized, and was now
offered at sheriff's sale!
Ten years before, Judge Hammond was known as the richest man in
Cedarville; and now, the homestead which he had once so loved to
beautify--where all that was dearest to him in life once
gathered--worn, disfigured, and in ruins, was about to be wrested from
him. I paused at the gate, and leaning over it, looked in with saddened
feelings upon the dreary waste within. No sign of life was visible. The
door was shut--the windows closed--not the faintest wreath of smoke was
seen above the blackened chimney-tops. How vividly did imagination
restore the life, and beauty, and happiness, that made their home there
only a few years before,--the mother and her noble boy, one looking
with trembling hope, the other with joyous confidence, into the
future,--the father, proud of his household treasures, but not their
wise and jealous guardian.
Ah! that his hands should have unbarred the door, and thrown it wide,
for the wolf to enter that precious fold! I saw them all in their sunny
life before me; yet, even as I looked upon them, their sky began to
darken. I heard the distant mutterings of the storm, and soon the
desolating tempest swept down fearfully upon them. I shuddered as it
passed away, to look upon the wrecks left scattered around. What a
change!
"And all this," said I, "that one man, tired of being useful, and eager
to get gain, might gather in accursed gold!"
Pushing open the gate, I entered the yard, and walked around the
dwelling, my footsteps echoing in the hushed solitude of the deserted
place. Hark! was that a human voice?