I noticed, early in the evening, and at a time when all the inmates of the room were in the best possible humor with themselves, the entrance of an elderly man, on whose face I instantly read a deep concern. It was one of those mild, yet strongly marked faces, that strike you at a glance. The forehead was broad, the eyes large and far back in their sockets, the lips full but firm. You saw evidences of a strong, but well-balanced character. As he came in, I noticed a look of intelligence pass from one to another; and then the eyes of two or three were fixed upon a young man who was seated not far from me, with his back to the entrance, playing at dominoes. He had a glass of ale by his side. The old man searched about the room for some moments, before his glance rested upon the individual I have mentioned. My eyes were full upon his face, as he advanced toward him, as yet unseen. Upon it was not a sign of angry excitement, but a most touching sorrow. "Edward!" he said, as he laid his hand gently on the young man's shoulder. The latter started at the voice, and crimsoned deeply. A few moments he sat irresolute. "Edward, my son!" It would have been a cold, hard heart indeed that softened not under the melting tenderness of these tones. The call was irresistible, and obedience a necessity. The powers of evil had, yet, too feeble a grasp on the young man's heart to hold him in thrall. Rising with a half-reluctant manner, and with a shamefacedness that it was impossible to conceal, he retired as quietly as possible. The notice of only a few in the bar-room was attracted by the incident. "I can tell you what," I heard the individual, with whom the young man had been playing at dominoes, remark--himself not twenty years of age--"if my old man were to make a fool of himself in this way--sneaking around after me in bar-rooms-he'd get only his trouble for his pains. I'd like to see him try it, though! There'd be a nice time of it, I guess. Wouldn't I creep off with him, as meek as a lamb! Ho! ho!" "Who is that old gentleman who came in just now?" I inquired of the person who thus commented on the incident which had just occurred. "Mr. Hargrove is his name." "And that was his son?" "Yes; and I'm only sorry he doesn't possess a little more spirit." "How old is he?" "About twenty." "Not of legal age, then?" "He's old enough to be his own master." "The law says differently," I suggested. In answer, the young man cursed the law, snapping his fingers in its imaginary face as he did so. "At least you will admit," said I, "that Edward Hargrove, in the use of a liberty to go where he pleases, and do what he pleases, exhibits but small discretion." "I will admit no such thing. What harm is there, I would like to know, in a social little game such as we were playing? There were no stakes--we were not gambling." I pointed to the half-emptied glass of ale left by young Hargrove.