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!”