"He was here, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes, and addressed the meeting several times."
"In one of those sneering, ill-tempered answers to your remarks, no
doubt."
The man slightly inclined his head, as if acknowledging a
compliment.
"It's a pity," said I, "that such men as this John Mason often have
wealth and some shrewdness of mind to give them power in the
community."
"Perhaps," said my auditor, "your prejudices against this man are
too strong. He's not perfect, I know; but even the devil is often
painted blacker than he is. If you knew him, I rather think you
would estimate him a little differently."
"I don't wish to know him. Opportunities have offered, but I have
always avoided an introduction."
"Who first gave you the character of this man?" asked the individual
with whom I was conversing.
"Mr. Laxton," I replied. "Do you know him?"
"Oh, yes, very well. He speaks hard of Mason, does he?"
"He has cause, I believe."
"Did he ever explain to you what it was?"
"Not very fully; but he gives him a general bad character, and says
he has done more to injure the best interests of the village than
any ten of its worst enemies that exist."
"Indeed! That is a sweeping declaration. But I will frankly own that
I cannot join in so broad a condemnation of the man, although he has
his faults, and no one knows them, I think, better than I do."
This made no impression upon me. The name of John Mason was
associated in my mind with every thing that was bad, and I replied
by saying that I was very well satisfied in regard to his character,
and didn't mean to have any thing to do with him while I lived in
Moorfield.
Some one interrupted our conversation at this point, and I was
separated from my very agreeable companion. I met him frequently
afterwards, and he was always particularly polite to me, and once or
twice asked me if I had fallen in with that John Mason yet; to which
I always replied in the negative, and expressed myself as ever in
regard to the personage mentioned.
Careful as we may be to keep out of trouble, we are not always
successful in our efforts. When I removed to Moorfield, I supposed
my affairs to be in a very good way; but things proved to be
otherwise. I was disappointed, not only in the amount I expected to
receive from the business I followed in the village, but
disappointed in the receipt of money I felt sure of getting by a
certain time.
When I first came to Moorfield, I bought a piece of property from
Laxton--this business transaction made us acquainted--and paid, cash
down, one-third of the purchase-money, the property remaining as
security for the two-thirds, which I was under contract to settle at
a certain time. My first payment was two thousand dollars.
Unfortunately, when the final payment became due, I was not in
funds, and the prospect of receiving money within five or six months
was any thing but good. In this dilemma, I waited upon Laxton, and
informed him of my disappointment. His face became grave.
"I hope it will not put you to any serious inconvenience."
"What?" he asked.
"My failure to meet this payment on the property. You are fully
secured, and within six months I will be able to do what I had hoped
to do at this time."
"I am sorry, Mr. Jones," he returned, "but I have made all my
calculations to receive the sum due at this time, and cannot do
without it."
"But I haven't the money, Mr. Laxton, and have fully explained to
you the reason why."
"That is your affair, not mine, Mr. Jones. If you have been
disappointed at one point, it is your business to look to another. A
contract is a contract."
"Will you not extend the time of payment?" said I.
"No, sir, I cannot."
"What will you do?"
"Do? You ask a strange question."
"Well, what will you do?"
"Why, raise the money on the property."
"How will you do that?"
"Sell it, of course."
I asked no further questions, but left him and went away. Before
reaching home, to which place I was retiring in order to think over
the position in which I was placed, and determine what steps to
take, if any were left to me, I met the pleasant acquaintance I had
made at the town-meeting.
"You look grave, Mr. Jones," said he, as we paused, facing each
other. "What's the matter?"