To this, Mr. Dix pledged himself.  After repeating his thanks, Mr.
Bolton rode away a wiser and a better man.

When Mr. Halpin, some weeks afterwards, made reference to the right of way across Mr. Bolton’s land, and asked if he would not sell him a narrow strip on the south edge of his farm, to be fenced off for a road, the latter said—­

“No, Mr. Halpin, I will not sell you the land; but as it is of little or no value to me, I will cheerfully vacate it for a road, if you are willing to run the fence.”

And thus was settled, most amicably, a matter that bid fair, in the beginning, to result in a long and angry disputation, involving loss of money, time, and friendly relationships.  Ever after, when disposed to act from a first angry impulse, Mr. Bolton’s thoughts would turn to this right-of-way question, and he would become cool and rational in a moment.

COALS OF FIRE.

“I am sorry, Mr. Grasper, that you should have felt it necessary to proceed to extremities against me,” said a care-worn, anxious-looking man, as he entered the store of a thrifty dealer in tapes, needles, and sundry small wares, drawing aside, as he spoke, the personage he addressed.  “There was no need of this.”

“There’s where you and I differ, Mr. Layton,” replied Grasper, rudely.  “The account has been standing nearly a year, and I have dunned you for it until I am sick and tired.”

“I know you have waited a long time for your money,” returned the debtor, humbly, “but not, I assure you, because I felt indifferent about paying i the bill.  I am most anxious to settle it, and would do so this hour, if I had the ability.”

“I can’t lie out of my money in this way, Mr. Layton.  If everybody kept me out of my just dues as long as you have, where do you think I would be?  Not in this store, doing as good a business as any one in the street, (Grasper drew himself up with an air of consequence,) but coming out at the little end of the horn, as some of my neighbours are. I pay every man his just dues, and it is but right that every man should pay me.”

“Where there is a willingness, without present ability, some allowances should be made.”

“Humph!  I consider a willingness to pay me my own, a very poor substitute for the money.”

There was an insulting rudeness in the way Grasper uttered this last sentence, that made the honest blood boil in the veins of his unfortunate debtor.  He was tempted to utter a keen rebuke in reply, but restrained himself, and simply made answer: 

“Good intentions, I know, are not money.  Still, they should be considered as some extenuation in a debtor, and at least exempt him from unnecessarily harsh treatment.  No man can tell how it may be with him in the course of a few years, and that, if nothing else, should make every one as lenient towards the unfortunate as possible.”