evident disorders in his house, and practised none himself; he was kind
and charitable to such as needed food and lodging, and had not wherewithal
to pay,--for with these his experience had doubtless given him a fellow-
feeling. He was also sufficiently attentive to his wife; though it must be
acknowledged that the religious zeal which had had a considerable
influence in gaining her affections grew, by no moderate degrees, less
fervent. It was whispered, too, that the new landlord could, when time,
place, and company were to his mind, upraise a song as merrily, and drink
a glass as jollily, as in the days of yore. These were the weightiest
charges that could now be brought against him; and wise men thought, that,
whatever might have been the evil of his past life, he had returned with a
desire (which years of vice, if they do not sometimes produce, do not
always destroy) of being honest, if opportunity should offer; and Hugh had
certainly a fair one.

On the afternoon previous to the events related in the last chapter, the
personage whose introduction to the reader has occupied so large a space
was seated under one of the elms in front of his dwelling. The bench which
now sustained him, and on which were carved the names of many former
occupants, was Hugh Crombie's favorite lounging-place, unless when his
attentions were required by his guests. No demand had that day been made
upon the hospitality of the Hand and Bottle; and the landlord was just
then murmuring at the unfrequency of employment. The slenderness of his
profits, indeed, were no part of his concern; for the Widow Hutchins's
chief income was drawn from her farm, nor was Hugh ever miserly inclined.
But his education and habits had made him delight in the atmosphere of the
inn, and in the society of those who frequented it; and of this species of
enjoyment his present situation certainly did not afford an overplus.

Yet had Hugh Crombie an enviable appearance of indolence and ease, as he