ONCE upon a time it happened that the men who governed the municipal
affairs of a certain growing town in the West, resolved, in grave
deliberation assembled, to purchase a five-acre lot at the north end
of the city--recently incorporated--and have it improved for a park or
public square. Now, it also happened, that all the saleable ground lying
north of the city was owned by a man named Smith--a shrewd, wide-awake
individual, whose motto was “Every man for himself,” with an occasional
addition about a certain gentleman in black taking “the hindmost.”
Smith, it may be mentioned, was secretly at the bottom of this scheme
for a public square, and had himself suggested the matter to an
influential member of the council; not that he was moved by what is
denominated public spirit--no; the spring of action in the case was
merely “private spirit,” or a regard for his own good. If the council
decided upon a public square, he was the man from whom the ground
would have to be bought; and he was the man who could get his own price
therefor.
As we have said, the park was decided upon, and a committee of two
appointed whose business it was to see Smith, and arrange with him for
the purchase of a suitable lot of ground. In due form the committee
called upon the landholder, who was fully prepared for the interview.
“You are the owner of those lots at the north end?” said the spokesman
of the committee.
“I am,” replied Smith, with becoming gravity.
“Will you sell a portion of ground, say five acres, to the city?”
“For what purpose?” Smith knew very well for what purpose the land was
wanted.
“We have decided to set apart about five acres of ground, and improve it
as a kind of park, or public promenade.”
“Have you, indeed? Well, I like that,” said Smith, with animation. “It
shows the right kind of public spirit.”
“We have, moreover, decided that the best location will be at the north
end of the town.”
“Decidedly my own opinion,” returned Smith.
“Will you sell us the required acres?” asked one of the councilmen.
“That will depend somewhat upon where you wish to locate the park.”
The particular location was named.
“The very spot,” replied Smith, promptly, “upon which I have decided to
erect four rows of dwellings.”
“But it is too far out for that,” was naturally objected.
“O, no; not a rod. The city is rapidly growing in that direction. I have
only to put up the dwellings referred to, and dozens will, be anxious to
purchase lots, and build all around them. Won't the ground to the left
of that you speak of answer as well?”
But the committee replied in the negative. The lot they had mentioned
was the one decided upon as most suited for the purpose, and they were
not prepared to think of any other location.
All this Smith understood very well. He was not only willing, but
anxious for the city to purchase the lot they were negotiating for. All
he wanted was to get a good round price for the same--say four or five
times the real value. So he feigned indifference, and threw difficulties
in the way.
A few years previous to this time, Smith had purchased a considerable
tract of land at the north of the then flourishing village, at fifty
dollars an acre. Its present value was about three hundred dollars an
acre. After a good deal of talk on both sides, Smith finally agreed to
sell the particular lot pitched upon. The next thing was to arrange as
to price.
“At what do you hold this ground per acre?”
It was some time before Smith answered this question. His eyes were cast
upon the floor, and earnestly did he enter into debate with himself as
to the value he should place upon the lot. At first he thought of five
hundred dollars per acre. But his cupidity soon caused him to advance
on that sum, although, a month before, he would have caught at such
an offer. Then he advanced to six, to seven, and to eight hundred. And
still he felt undecided.
“I can get my own price,” said he to himself. “The city has to pay, and
I might just as well get a large sum as a small one.”
“For what price will you sell?” The question was repeated.
“I must have a good price.”
“We are willing to pay what is fair and right.”
“Of course. No doubt you have fixed a limit to which you will go.”
“Not exactly that,” said one of the gentlemen.
“Are you prepared to make an offer?”
“We are prepared to hear your price, and to make a report thereon,” was
replied.
“That's a very valuable lot of ground,” said Smith.
“Name your price,” returned one of the committeemen, a little
impatiently.
Thus brought up to the point, Smith, after thinking hurriedly for a few
moments, said--
“One thousand dollars an acre.”
Both the men shook their heads in a very positive way. Smith said that
it was the lowest he would take; and so the conference ended.
At the next meeting of the city councils, a report on the town lot
was made, and the extraordinary demand of Smith canvassed. It was
unanimously decided not to make the proposed purchase.
When this decision reached the landholder, he was considerably
disappointed. He wanted money badly, and would have “jumped at” two
thousand dollars for the five acre lot, if satisfied that it would bring
no more. But when the city came forward as a purchaser, his cupidity
was subjected to a very strong temptation. He believed that he could get
five thousand dollars as easily as two; and quieted his conscience by
the salvo--“An article is always worth what it will bring.”
A week or two went by, and Smith was about calling upon one of the
members of the council, to say that, if the city really wanted the lot
he would sell at their price, leaving it with the council to act justly
and generously, when a friend said to him,
“I hear that the council had the subject of a public square under
consideration again this morning.”
“Indeed!” Smith was visibly excited, though he tried to appear calm.
“Yes; and I also hear that they have decided to pay the extravagant
price you asked for a lot of ground at the north end of the city.”
“A thousand dollars an acre?”
“Yes.”
“Its real value, and not cent more,” said Smith.
“People differ about that. How ever, you are lucky,” the friend replied.
“The city is able to pay.”
“So I think. And I mean they shall pay.”
Before the committee, to whom the matter was given in charge, had time
to call upon Smith, and close with him for the lot, that gentleman had
concluded in his own mind that it would be just as easy to get twelve
hundred dollars an acre as a thousand. It was plain that the council
were bent upon having the ground, and would pay a round sum for it.
It was just the spot for a public square; and the city must become the
owner. So, when he was called upon, by the gentlemen, and they said to
him,
“We are authorized to pay you your price,” he promptly answered, “The
offer is no longer open. You declined it when it was made. My price for
that property is now twelve hundred dollars an acre.”
The men offered remonstrance; but it was of no avail. Smith believed
that he could get six thousand dollars for the ground as easily as five
thousand. The city must have the lot, and would pay almost any price.
“I hardly think it right, Mr. Smith,” said one of his visiters, “for you
to take such an advantage. This square is for the public good.”
“Let the public pay, then,” was the unhesitating answer. “The public is
able enough.”
“The location of this park, at the north end of the city, will greatly
improve the value of your other property.”
This Smith understood very well. But he replied,
“I am not so sure of that. I have some very strong doubts on the
subject. It's my opinion, that the buildings I contemplated erecting
will be far more to my advantage. Be that as it may, however, I am
decided in selling for nothing less than six thousand dollars.”
“We are only authorized to pay five thousand,” replied the committee.
“If you agree to take that sum, will close the bargain on the spot.”
Five thousand dollars was a large sum of money, and Smith felt strongly
tempted to close in with the liberal offer. But six thousand loomed up
before his imagination still more temptingly.
“I can get it,” said he to himself; “and the property is worth what it
will bring.”
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.”
The morning of the day passed, and Smith began to grow uneasy. He did
not venture to seek for information as to the doings of the council,
for that would be to expose the anxiety he felt in the result of their
deliberations. Slowly the afternoon wore away, and it so happened that
Smith did not meet any one of the councilmen; nor did he even know
whether the council was still in session or not. As to making allusion
to the subject of his anxious interest to any one, that was carefully
avoided; for he knew that his exorbitant demand was the town talk--and
he wished to affect the most perfect indifference on the subject.
The day closed, and not a whisper about the town lot had come to the
ears of Mr. Smith. What could it mean? Had his offer to sell at six
thousand been rejected? The very thought caused his heart to grow heavy
in his bosom. Six, seven, eight o'clock came, and still it was all dark
with Mr. Smith. He could bear the suspense no longer, and so determined
to call upon his neighbour Wilson, who was a member of the council, and
learn from him what had been done.
So he called on Mr. Wilson.
“Ah, friend Smith,” said the latter; “how are you this evening?”
“Well, I thank you,” returned Smith, feeling a certain oppression of the
chest. “How are you?”
“Oh, very well.”
Here there was a pause. After which Smith said, “About that ground of
mine. What did you do?”
“Nothing,” replied Wilson, coldly.
“Nothing, did you say?” Smith's voice was a little husky.
“No. You declined our offer; or, rather, the high price fixed by
yourself upon the land.”
“You refused to buy it at five thousand, when it was offered,” said
Smith.
“I know we did, because your demand was exorbitant.”
“Oh, no, not at all,” returned Smith quickly.
“In that we only differ,” said Wilson. “However, the council has decided
not to pay you the price you ask.”
“Unanimously?”
“There was not a dissenting voice.”
Smith began to feel more and more uncomfortable.
“I might take something less,” he ventured to say, in a low, hesitating
voice.
“It is too late now,” was Mr. Wilson's prompt reply.
“Too late! How so?”
“We have procured a lot.”
“Mr. Wilson!” Poor Smith started to his feet in chagrin and
astonishment.
“Yes; we have taken one of Jones's lots on the west side of the city. A
beautiful ten acre lot.”
“You have!” Smith was actually pale.
“We have; and the title deeds are now being made out.”
It was some time before Smith had sufficiently recovered from the
stunning effect of this unlooked-for intelligence, to make the inquiry,
“And pray how much did Jones ask for his ten acre lot.”
“He presented it to the city as a gift,” replied the councilman.
“A gift! What folly!”
“No, not folly--but true worldly wisdom; though I believe Jones did not
think of advantage to himself when he generously made the offer. He is
worth twenty thousand dollars more to-day than he was yesterday, in the
simple advanced value of his land for building lots. And I know of no
man in this town whose good fortune affects me with more pleasure.”
Smith stole back to his home with a mountain of disappointment on his
heart. In his cupidity he had entirely overreached himself, and he saw
that the consequences were to react upon all his future prosperity. The
public square at the west end of the town would draw improvements in
that direction, all the while increasing the wealth of Mr. Jones, while
lots at the north end would remain at present prices, or, it might be,
take a downward range.
And so it proved. In ten years, Jones was the richest man in the town,
while half of Smith's property had been sold for taxes. The five acre
lot passed from his hands, under the hammer, in the foreclosure of a
mortgage, for one thousand dollars!
Thus it is that inordinate selfishness and cupidity overreach
themselves; while the liberal man deviseth liberal things, and is
sustained thereby.