So he positively declined to sell it at a thousand dollars per acre.

“At twelve hundred you will sell?” remarked one of the committee, as they were about retiring.

“Yes.  I will take twelve hundred the acre.  That is the lowest rate, and I am not anxious even at that price.  I can do quite as well by keeping it in my own possession.  But, as you seem so bent on having it, I will not stand in your way.  When will the council meet again?”

“Not until next week.”

“Very well.  If they then accept my offer, all will be right.  But, understand me; if they do not accept, the offer no longer remains open.  It is a matter of no moment to me which way the thing goes.”

It was a matter of moment to Smith, for all this assertion—­a matter of very great moment.  He had several thousand dollars to pay in the course of the next few months on land purchases, and no way to meet the payments, except by mortgages, or sales of property; and, it may naturally be concluded, that he suffered considerable uneasiness during the time which passed until the next meeting of the council.

Of course, the grasping disposition shown by Smith, became the town talk; and people said a good many hard things of him.  Little, however, did he care, so that he secured six thousand dollars for a lot not worth more than two thousand.

Among other residents and property holders in the town, was a simple-minded, true-hearted, honest man, named Jones.  His father had left him a large farm, a goodly portion of which, in process of time, came to be included in the limits of the new city; and he found a much more profitable employment in selling building lots than in tilling the soil.  The property of Mr. Jones lay at the west side of the town.

Now, when Mr. Jones heard of the exorbitant demand made by Smith for a five acre lot, his honest heart throbbed with a feeling of indignation.

“I couldn’t have believed it of him,” said he.  “Six thousand dollars!  Preposterous!  Why, I would give the city a lot of twice the size, and do it with pleasure.”

“You would?” said a member of the council, who happened to hear this remark.

“Certainly I would.”

“You are really in earnest?”

“Undoubtedly.  Go and select a public square from any of my unappropriated land on the west side of the city, and I will pass you the title as a free gift to-morrow, and feel pleasure in doing so.”

“That is public spirit,” said the councilman.

“Call it what you will.  I am pleased in making the offer.”

Now, let it not be supposed that Mr. Jones was shrewdly calculating the advantage which would result to him from having a park at the west side of the city.  No such thought had yet entered his mind.  He spoke from the impulse of a generous feeling.

Time passed on, and the session day of the council came round—­a day to which Smith had looked forward with no ordinary feelings of interest, that were touched at times by the coldness of doubt, and the agitation of uncertainty.  Several times he had more than half repented of his refusal to accept the liberal offer of five thousand dollars, and of having fixed so positively upon six thousand as the “lowest figure.”