There was once a man who kept an inn on a country road. Just back of his house stretched a dark forest in which a number of bad men lived. Some of these men were great fighters, some were robbers, some had even murdered people. And they were all in the habit of coming to the inn. They were very glad to have some place where they could meet together and talk over the wicked things they had done, and lay plans for more that they wanted to do.

In that same country, but farther off, there was a rich plain which was covered with beautiful farms. The people who lived on these farms were very different from those who lived in the forest. They were honest and industrious; they had ministers and schoolmasters living among them; on every weekday they might be seen working in their fields, and on every Sunday going to their churches. And they too used to stop at the inn as they went to the city to sell the butter, and eggs, and poultry, they had raised, and to buy the tea, and coffee, and clothing, and other things, that they needed.

It happened, one day when these good men stopped at the inn, that the bad men out of the forest were there. Then the good men went to the landlord, and said:

“Give us a room away from these men where we cannot hear their evil talk.”

So the landlord put them in his parlor on the opposite side of the house; but though the doors were shut tight, the noise came through, and was so loud that the men in the parlor could hardly hear themselves speak. Then they said to one another:

“What shall we do to get beyond the reach of these horrid sounds? Truly, we can do nothing else but leave the place.”

So they went out and harnessed up their horses and drove off.

The next time they stopped at the inn the bad men were there again. Then the farm-people called the landlord, and said to him:

“We want to stay and take dinner here. Bring us therefore to a room much farther away from these men than the parlor where you put us before.”

So the landlord took them up stairs into the best room on his second floor, and gave them the key of the door, that they might lock themselves in and stay as long as they wanted. But the bad men had seen them going up, and presently they seized the great clubs that they always carried, and hurried up after them.

“Let us in!” they cried.

But without waiting for any answer they broke down the door and rushed at the men who were sitting around the table, until they had to run for their lives.

That night, after everybody had gone to bed and the landlord had locked up the inn, as he sat alone by the fire, he said to himself:

“I must do one thing or the other. I must turn away either the good men or the bad men, for it is plain they cannot both come to my house. Which shall it be?”

After thinking a while longer he said:

“I admit that the people from the forest buy a good deal more out of my bar-room—wine, brandy, and whiskey—but then they get drunk and break my furniture, and often refuse to pay for what they have had; so that, in truth, I do not make any great profit out of them, after all—not near enough to make up for the bad example they set my children and the bad name they give my house. But the people from the farms, though they do not buy any brandy, or whiskey, buy a good deal more of bread and meat, and they always pay for what they get. By the end of the year I am sure that I make more out of them than I do out of the others. Then they are kind to my family, and they make my house respectable and give it a good name. I am resolved what to do, and which to turn away. These shall stay, and the others shall go; and to-morrow I will tell them.”

So, after making up his mind, he went to bed and slept all night.

Early the next morning he opened his house. As soon as the door was unlocked in came the men from the forest, and they kept on coming till the bar-room was full. Then, while they were making a great noise, talking very loud, and calling for drink, the landlord rapped on the top of the bar and cried:

“Silence, and listen to me! You men have been coming here and doing as you pleased, until you seem to think the house belongs to you, and that you can turn people out of it whenever you like. But I am the one who has to pay the rent, and I think it is for me to say who shall come and who shall go. And now I say that I want you to go and never come back.”

As soon as the landlord had spoken in this firm way the men out of the forest—who, in spite of their boasting, were great cowards—began to steal off one by one, until they were all gone; at which the landlord was glad, for he thought he had gotten rid of them altogether. But in this he was mistaken, for in a few days they were back again, standing about the doors and watching for a chance to get in.

To keep them out the landlord shut up all but the front door, and tried to keep his eye on that. But so impudent had the men grown that they began to climb into the windows when no one was looking. Then the landlord sent for the blacksmith and had iron bars put across every window. But after he had done this the men even got up on the roof in some way, and came down the chimney like so many sweeps; at which the landlord told his hired man to build a hot fire, and to keep it blazing no matter how much wood it burned.

But it was not possible to close every door, and window, and chimney, and keep them always shut. There was the side door, that opened into the flower-garden, where sometimes persons wanted to walk; and there was the back door, out of which the cook must go to the woodpile many times every day. Some of the windows opened on beautiful prospects, where the boarders liked to sit and look out. So that, do what he would, the landlord often found places left open.

And, beside this, the men out of the forest had lately changed their plan. They came now dressed up like the farm-people, and sometimes the landlord could hardly tell one from the other. In short, they were too clever for him; and so, in spite of all he could do, they got in, and every day he would meet some of them sneaking about the house, or hidden in some closet or corner, or under a bed.

While things were in this sad state he was sitting one night before the fire by himself, just as he sat on the night that he made up his mind to order the bad men out of his house. But how differently he felt now from what he felt then! Then he thought he could have everything his own way, but now he had done his utmost, and, instead of getting better, things were getting worse and worse. He was very much discouraged and low-spirited.

Then he began to think of some of the wrong things that he had done himself. He had been too friendly with these bad men, and not as kind as he should have been to some good men that he knew. Especially he remembered how unkindly he had treated one good man. It happened in this way.

When he first came to the inn, after renting it, he found a watchman there. The owner of the inn had sent him to watch it, and keep it safe. When the landlord came, this watchman did not go away, but stayed on. The owner had told him to stay and watch the house; for, although the owner had rented it, the house still belonged to him.

So the watchman stayed and tried to make himself useful to the landlord. But the landlord paid no attention to him; in truth, he often treated him rudely, until one day, when the watchman was warning him against these very men out of the forest, the landlord told him he could take care of his house himself, and that he did not want his help any further.

Since that time the poor man had been staying about the inn wherever he could find a place. Sometimes he slept down in the cellar, sometimes out in the wood-house; and when he got anything to eat, it was always after the servants were done, and only such food as was left from their table. And now the landlord remembered all this. While he sat thinking about it before the fire, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” said the landlord; and the door opened, and in walked this same watchman. He did not say a word, but stood still, looking right at the landlord.

“Watchman,” said the landlord, “I have treated you very unkindly, and I am sorry for it. Are you willing to forgive me and be watchman again?”

“I am,” said the watchman, “if you will promise to pay attention when I warn you of danger.”

“I promise,” said the landlord; “I will do anything to get out of the trouble I am in.”

“Very well, then,” replied the watchman; “it is a bargain between us. But now go to bed and get some rest, for you need it.”

So the landlord went to bed, and because his worry of mind had worn him down a good deal he soon fell asleep.

Early the next morning, before any one else was awake, the watchman was up and at work. The first thing he did was to build up the little room, or watch-box, that used to stand in front of the house. It was placed there on purpose for him when the house was first built, but because it had not been taken care of it had long since tumbled down. But now the watchman built it up again, setting in windows all around it, so that as he stood there, he could look out on every side. As soon as he had built up his watch-box he fixed the cord, or bell-rope, that reached from there into the landlord’s chamber.

And no sooner was this done than, seeing one of the forest-people coming toward the house, he pulled the cord and rang the bell. At this the landlord awoke. He knew what it meant. He did not need any one to tell him, for he used to hear that bell long ago, although he then paid no attention to it. But now he jumped up and dressed quickly, and ran to the door just in time to shut out one of the very worst of the men from the forest.

After that the bell went on ringing every day, and the landlord was kept busy shutting doors and windows. It must be confessed that he got tired of hearing it sometimes; but he was so much happier, he ate so much better and slept so much sounder than he did before, that, even when it put him to a good deal of trouble, he was always careful to obey the bell.

All this time the good farm-people were made welcome at the inn. The door was always wide open to them, and the best of food was put on their table. As they never went into the bar-room to buy anything to drink, and as they disliked very much to see drunkards about, the landlord concluded to take away his bar and make the inn a temperance house. Being pleased at this, the farm-people came oftener and stayed longer than ever before, until the landlord found himself growing rich on the money they paid him. Then he painted his house inside and out, and added some new rooms to it, and made it more comfortable every year.

When the forest-people found that the watchman was always looking out for them, and that the landlord always paid attention to his bell—and when they saw, too, that the company in the house was such as would make them feel ashamed, even if they should get in there—they did not try to get in as often as they used, and so the bell did not ring nearly so often. Then the landlord had time to walk in his garden and to sit down in the shade of his favorite tree, which he had not been able to do for long years before.

And so things went on from year to year. The landlord never ceased to mind the bell, and gradually, as he grew older, it rang more and more seldom, until, during his last sickness, while he was shut up in his chamber, growing weaker and weaker every day, it stopped ringing altogether. And this was not because the watchman (whose name was Conscience) was unwilling to disturb him, but because the forest-people (that is, wicked thoughts and bad desires) did not trouble him any further.

So the old man lay in peace and quietness until he died. Then his son took the inn and carried it on. It is true that the men out of the forest knew as soon as the old man was dead, and thinking that now, as there was a new master, they might perhaps be able to get in, they came and tried again and again. And the son had to fight his own battles with them like his father. But he kept the watchman in his house, and minded the bell; and in the end he gained the victory, as his father had done before him.