Simon Slade was going to make every man's fortune in Cedarville.
But all that has been gained by a small advance in property, is as
a grain of sand to a mountain, compared with the fearful
demoralization that has followed."

I readily assented to this, for I had myself seen enough to
justify the conclusion.

As I sat in the bar-room of the "Sickle and Sheaf" that evening, I
noticed, soon after the lamps were lighted, the gentleman referred
to in the above conversation, whose sons were represented as
visitors to the bar, come in quietly, and look anxiously about the
room. He spoke to no one, and, after satisfying himself that those
he sought were not there, went out.

"What sent him here, I wonder?" muttered Slade, speaking partly to
himself, and partly aside to Matthew, the bar-keeper.

"After the boys, I suppose," was answered.

"I guess the boys are old enough to take care of themselves."

"They ought to be," returned Matthew.

"And are," said Slade. "Have they been here this evening?"

"No, not yet."

While they yet talked together, two young men whom I had seen on
the night before, and noticed particularly as showing signs of