Now came a still more serious matter.  The old man, years ago, when corn farming paid so handsomely, had been induced by the prospect of profit to take a second and yet larger farm, nearly all arable.  To do this he was obliged, in farming phrase, to ’take up’—­i.e. to borrow—­a thousand pounds, which was advanced to him by the bank.  Being a man of substance, well reputed, and at that date with many friends, the thousand pounds was forthcoming readily, and on favourable terms.  The enterprise, however, did not prosper; times changed, and wheat was not so profitable.  In the end he had the wisdom to accept his losses and relinquish the second farm before it ate him up.  Had he only carried his wisdom a little farther and repaid the whole of the bank’s advance, all might yet have been well.  But he only repaid five hundred pounds, leaving five hundred pounds still owing.  The bank having regularly received the interest, and believing the old gentleman upright—­as he was—­was not at all anxious to have the money back, as it was earning fair interest.  So the five hundred remained on loan, and, as it seemed, for no very definite purpose.

Whether the old gentleman liked to feel that he had so much money at command (a weakness of human nature common enough), or whether he thought he could increase the produce of his farm by putting it in the soil, it is not possible to say.  He certainly put the five hundred out of sight somewhere, for when his son succeeded him it was nowhere to be found.  After repaying the small loans to his father’s old friends, upon looking round the son saw cattle, corn, hay, and furniture, but no five hundred pounds in ready money.  The ready money had been muddled away—­simply muddled away, for the old man had worked hard, and was not at all extravagant.

The bank asked for the five hundred, but not in a pressing manner, for the belief still existed that there was money in the family.  That belief was still further fostered because the old friends whose loans had been repaid talked about that repayment, and so gave a colour to the idea.  The heir, in his slow way, thought the matter over and decided to continue the loan.  He could only repay it by instalments—­a mode which, to a farmer brought up in the old style, is almost impossible, for though he might meet one he would be sure to put off the next—­or by selling stock (equivalent to giving up his place), or by borrowing afresh.  So he asked and obtained a continuation of the loan of the five hundred, and was accommodated, on condition that some one ‘backed’ him.  Some one in the family did back him, and the fatal mistake was committed of perpetuating this burden.  A loan never remains at the same sum; it increases if it is not reduced.  In itself the five hundred was not at all a heavy amount for the farm to carry, but it was the nucleus around which additional burdens piled themselves up.  By a species of gravitation such a burden attracts others, till the last straw breaks the camel’s back.  This, however, was not all.