There
was needed scarcely a word of representation on my part, to secure
the cordial tender of a bed.
What a change! It seemed almost like a passage from Pandemonium to
a heavenly region, as I seated myself alone in the quiet chamber a
cheerful hospitality had assigned me, and mused on the exciting
and terrible incidents of the day. They that sow the wind shall
reap the whirlwind. How marked had been the realization of this
prophecy, couched in such strong but beautiful imagery!
On the next day I was to leave Cedarville. Early in the morning I
repaired to the "Sickle and Sheaf." The storm was over, and all
was calm and silent as desolation. Hours before, the tempest had
subsided; but the evidences left behind of its ravaging fury were
fearful to look upon. Doors, chairs, windows, and table's were
broken, and even the strong brass rod that ornamented the bar had
been partially wrenched from its fastenings by strong hands, under
an impulse of murder, that only lacked a weapon to execute its
fiendish purpose. Stains of blood, in drops, marks, and even
dried-up pools, were to be seen all over the bar-room and passage
floors, and in many places on the porch.
In the sitting-room still lay the body of Green. Here, too, were
many signs to indicate a fierce struggle. The looking-glass was
smashed to a hundred pieces, and the shivered fragments lay yet
untouched upon the floor. A chair, which it was plain had been
used as a weapon of assault, had two of its legs broken short off,
and was thrown into a corner.
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