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!”