of his ankles was dislocated.  He was suffering great pain, and was much exhausted.  As quickly as it could be done, the bone was set, and the dislocation reduced.  By this time it was nightfall, and too late to think seriously of returning home before morning.  The moment Mr. Gray, the farmer, saw the thoughts of the injured man and his friends directed towards the city, he promptly invited them to remain in his house all night, and as much longer as the nature of Mr. Bolton’s injuries might require.  This invitation was thankfully accepted.

During the night, Mr. Bolton suffered a great deal of pain, and in the morning, when the physicians arrived, it was found that his injured limb was much inflamed.  Of course, a removal to the city was out of the question.  The doctors declared that the attempt would be made at the risk of his life.  Farmer Gray said that such a thing must not be thought of until the patient was fully able to bear the journey; and the farmer’s wife as earnestly remonstrated against any attempt at having the injured man disturbed until it could be perfectly safe to do so.  Both tendered the hospitalities of their humble home with so much sincerity, that Mr. Bolton felt that he could accept of them with perfect freedom.

It was a whole month ere the old gentleman was in a condition to bear the journey to town; and not once in the whole of that time had Mr. and Mrs. Gray seemed weary of his presence, nor once relaxed in their efforts to make him comfortable.  As Mr. Bolton was about leaving, he tendered the farmer, with many expressions of gratitude for the kindness he had received, a hundred-dollar bill, as some small compensation for the trouble and expense he had occasioned him and his family.  But Mr. Gray declined the offer, saying, as he did so: 

“I have only done what common humanity required, Mr. Bolton; and were I to receive money, all the pleasure I now experience would be gone.”

It was in vain that Mr. Bolton urged the farmer’s acceptance of some remuneration.  Mr. Gray was firm in declining to the last.  All that could be done was to send Mrs. Gray a handsome present from the city; but this did not entirely relieve the mind of Mr. Bolton from the sense of obligation under which the disinterested kindness of the farmer had laid him; and thoughts of this tended to soften his feelings, and to awaken, in a small measure, the human sympathies which had so long slumbered in his bosom.

Several months passed before Mr. Bolton was able to go out, and then he resumed his old employment of looking after his rents, and seeking for new and safe investments that promised some better returns than he was yet receiving.

One day, a broker, who was in the habit of doing business for Mr. Bolton, said to him: 

“If you want to buy a small, well-cultivated farm, at about half what it is worth, I think I know where you can get one.”

“Do you?”