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put in order for a gentleman immediately, and tell her to be sure
and change the bed linen."
"Things look rather dull here," I remarked, as the bar-keeper went
out to do as he had been directed.
"Rather; it's a dull place, anyhow."
"How is your mother?" I inquired.
A slight, troubled look came into his face, as he answered:
"No better."
"She's sick, then?"
"Yes; she's been sick a good while; and I'm afraid will never be
much better." His manner was not altogether cold and indifferent,
but there was a want of feeling in his voice.
"Is she at home?"
"No, sir."
As he showed no inclination to say more on the subject, I asked no
further questions, and he soon found occasion to leave me.
The bar room had undergone no material change, so far as its
furniture and arrangements were concerned; but a very great change
was apparent in the condition of these. The brass rod around the
bar, which, at my last visit was brightly polished, was now a
greenish-black, and there came from it an unpleasant odor of
verdigris. The walls were fairly coated with dust, smoke, and fly-
specks, and the windows let in the light but feebly through the
dirt-obscured glass. The floor was filthy. Behind the bar, on the
shelves designed for a display of liquors, was a confused mingling
of empty or half-filled decanters, cigar-boxes, lemons and lemon-
peel, old newspapers, glasses, a broken pitcher, a hat, a soiled
vest, and a pair of blacking brushes, with other incongruous
things, not now remembered.
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