odorous flowers, but heavily, and with iron-shod heel. This I saw
at a glance; and then, only the image of the man was present to my
inner vision, for the swiftly rolling stage-coach had borne me
onward past the altered home of the wealthiest denizen of
Cedarville. In a few minutes our driver reined up before the
"Sickle and Sheaf," and as I stepped to the ground, a rotund,
coarse, red-faced man, whom I failed to recognize as Simon Slade
until he spoke, grasped my hand, and pronounced my name. I could
not but contrast, in thought, his appearance with what it was when
I first saw him, some six years previously; nor help saying to
myself:

"So much for tavern-keeping!"

As marked a change was visible everywhere in and around the
"Sickle and Sheaf." It, too, had grown larger by additions of
wings and rooms; but it had also grown coarser in growing larger.
When built, all the doors were painted white, and the shutters
green, giving to the house a neat, even tasteful appearance. But
the white and green had given place to a dark, dirty brown, that
to my eyes was particularly unattractive. The bar-room had been
extended, and now a polished brass rod, or railing, embellished
the counter, and sundry ornamental attractions had been given to
the shelving behind the bar--such as mirrors, gilding, etc.
Pictures, too, were hung upon the walls, or more accurately
speaking; coarse colored lithographs, the subjects of which, if
not really obscene, were flashing, or vulgar. In the sitting-room,
next to the bar, I noticed little change of objects, but much in
their condition. The carpet, chairs, and tables were the same in
fact, but far from being the same in appearance. The room had a