was painful, for I saw that this youthful tippler was on dangerous ground.
"Who is that young man in the bar?" I asked, a few minutes afterward, on being rejoined by the landlord.
Simon Slade stepped to the door and looked into the bar for a moment.
Two or three men were there by this time; but he was at no loss in answering my question.
"Oh, that's a son of Judge Hammond, who lives in the large brick house just as you enter the village. Willy Hammond, as everybody familiarly calls him, is about the finest young man in our neighborhood. There is nothing proud or put-on about him—nothing—even if his father is a judge, and rich into the bargain. Every one, gentle or simple, likes Willy Hammond. And then he is such good company. Always so cheerful, and always with a pleasant story on his tongue. And he's so high-spirited withal, and so honorable. Willy Hammond
