“When did you see Gray?”

“The previous owner of your farm?”

“Yes.”

“Not since the sale.  You told me to let every thing remain as it was.”

“Hasn’t he called?”

“No.”

“The loss of his farm must be felt as a great misfortune.”

“No doubt of that.  Every man feels his losses as misfortunes.  But we all have to take the good and the bad in life together.  It’s his luck, and he must put up with it.”

“I wonder if he hasn’t other property?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?”

“Oh, yes.  I know exactly what he was worth.  He had been overseer for Elbertson for several years, and while there, managed to save seven hundred dollars, with which he paid down the cash required in purchasing his farm.  Since then, he has been paying off the mortgage that remained on the property, and but for the burning of his barn, might have prevented a result that has been so disastrous to himself.  But it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good.  In every loss, somebody gains; and the turn of the die has been in your favour this time.”

Mr. Bolton did not appear to feel as much satisfaction at this view of the case as the broker anticipated; and seeing this, he changed the subject, by asking some question about the consummation of the sale under the mortgage.

“I’ll see you about that to-morrow,” said Mr. Bolton.

“Very well,” was replied.

After some more conversation, Mr. Bolton left the office of his agent.

For years, farmer Gray had been toiling late and early, to become the full owner of his beautiful farm.  Its value had much increased since it had come into his possession, and he looked forward with pleasure to the time when it would be his own beyond all doubt.  But the loss of an entire year’s crop, through the burning of his barn, deeply tried and dispirited him.  From this grievous disappointment, his spirits were beginning to rise, when the sudden foreclosure of the mortgage and hurried sale of his farm crushed all his hopes to the earth.

Who the real purchaser of his farm was, Mr. Gray did not know, for the broker had bought in his own name.  So bewildered was the farmer by the suddenly-occurring disaster, that, for several days subsequent to the sale, he remained almost totally paralyzed in mind.  No plans were laid for the future, nor even those ordinary steps for the present taken, that common prudence would suggest; he wandered about the farm, or sat at home, dreamily musing upon what seemed the utter ruin of all his best hopes in life.  While in this state, he was surprised by a visit from Mr. Bolton.  The old gentleman, in taking him by the hand, said—­“What’s the matter, my friend?  You appear in trouble.”

“And I am in trouble,” was unhesitatingly answered.

“Not so deep but that you may get out of it again, I hope?”

Mr. Gray shook his head in a desponding way.