Opening it we entered, Power leading the way, and as we approached some stairs I caught a glimpse of a little plush-furnished bar to the left, where I could have sworn I saw the melancholy Sliddim in company with a pewter pot. We waited for a moment or two in a long upstairs room. The walls were covered with beasts, birds, and fishes, in glass cases, all of which looked as if they ought to be decently buried. Upon one wall was an immense engraving framed in boxwood of the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, and upon a huge mahogany sideboard which looked as if it had been built to resist a cavalry charge, was a tray with hospitable bottles. Then the door opened and a dapper little man with side whiskers, the vendor's solicitor, came in, accompanied by Mr. Newby, the retiring landlord himself. Mr. Newby, dressed I was glad to notice, very much as myself, only the diamond ring upon his finger was rather larger, was a short, fat man of benevolent aspect, and I should say suffering from dropsy. We shook hands heartily. "Thirty years have I been landlord here," wheezed Mr. Newby, "and now it's time the 'ouse was in younger 'ands. Your respectability 'as been vouched for, Mr. Thomas--I wouldn't sell to no low blackguard for twice the money--and all I can say is, young feller, for you are a young feller to me, you know--I 'ope you'll be as 'appy and prosperous in the 'Golden Swan' as Emanuel Newby 'ave been." I thought it was best to be a little awkward and bashful, so I said very little while the lawyers fussed about with title deeds, and at last the eventful moment came when one does that conjuring trick in which the gentlemen of the law take such infantile delight. "Put your finger here, yes, on this red seal and say...." When it was all done and Mr. Newby had stowed away seven thousand pounds in bank-notes in a receptacle over his heart, we drank to the occasion in some remarkably good champagne and then, with a sigh, the ex-proprietor announced his intention of being off. "My luggage has preceded me," he said, "and I have nothing to do now but retire, as I 'ave long planned, to the city of my birth." "And where may that be, Mr. Newby?" I asked politely. "The University City of Oxford," he replied, "which, if you've not known intimate as I 'ave, you can never begin to understand. There's an atmosphere there, Mr. Thomas, but Lord, you won't be interested!" and he wheezed superior. The situation was not without humor. When he had gone, together with his solicitor, Power rang the bell.