About a mile from the Rutherford estate there was a small collection of buildings; it bore the title of village however, and comprised a church, a blacksmith's shop, and a tavern, as also a few small and plain tenements. The tavern, of course, was the rendezvous through the week, and the place where all the news and scandal could be enjoyed. It was soon known around that trouble had fallen on the great man of that region, and a larger number than usual was congregated there just after dinner. But, to their credit be it said, a feeling of deep regret was very manifest: not a tongue was loosened against the sufferer, nor was there one among them disposed to take any measures for his own security, although to most of them he was indebted for services of different kinds. 'George Rutherford,' said an aged, portly man, who seemed to be the oracle of the place, and who had taken the large arm-chair on the wide front piazza of the tavern, 'I have known from a boy; and if there ever was an honest man and a gentleman, he is one. Things have been going hard with him for some time, that we all know; he has had cunning chaps to deal with, and may be they have ruined him; but sooner than take the law of him, I will lose all he owes me, at any rate.' 'So would I;' and 'So would I,' resounded on all sides. 'But here comes Dick,' said the first speaker. 'I wonder what he is after?--hunting for a job, I guess.' And the old yellow gig drove up, and Mr. Tucker, with all the elasticity of a young man, sprang from his seat, and alighted on the lower step. 'Good afternoon, gentlemen;' and Mr. Tucker bowed very stiffly, which perhaps he was obliged to do, for his coat was buttoned up close to the neck--a habit he maintained at all seasons. 'Good day, Mr. Tucker; you seem to be in a hurry, neighbor; the old mare is quite out of breath.' 'Oh no; not at all,' turning at the same time, and eyeing his beast; 'she always breathes so. You may put her under the shed, Jo,' addressing a good-natured looking black, who stood waiting orders at the head of the beast. 'Yes, massa. Any oats, massa?' 'No--well--I don't care--yes. You may give her a mess--two quarts, Jo. Wet them, you hear?' Jo took the mare by the head, turned his face away from the company, opened his broad mouth, and went grinning along to the shed. 'My golly! two quarts--ha, ha, ha! a half bushel no fill her belly--ha, ha, ha!'