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“You look grave, Mr. Jones,” said he, as we paused, facing each other. “What’s the matter?”

I frankly told him my difficulty.

“So Laxton has got you in his clutches, has he?” was the simple, yet, I perceived, meaning reply that he made.

“I am in his clutches, certainly,” said I. “And will not get out of them very easily, I apprehend.”

“What will he do?”

“He will sell the property at auction.”

“It won’t bring his claim under the hammer.”

“No, I suppose not, for that is really more than the property is worth.”

“Do you think so?”

“Certainly I do. I know the value of every lot of ground in the township, and know that you have been taken in in your purchase.”

“What do you suppose it will bring at a forced sale?”

“Few men will bid over twenty-five hundred dollars.”

“You cannot be serious?”

“I assure you I am. He, however, will overbid all, up to four thousand. He will, probably, have it knocked down to him at three thousand, and thus come into the unencumbered possession of a piece of property upon which he has received two thousand dollars.”

“But three thousand dollars will not satisfy his claim against me.”

“No. You will still owe him a thousand dollars.”

“Will he prosecute his claim?”

“He?” And the man smiled. “Yes, to the last extremity, if there be hope of getting any thing.”

“Then I am certainly in a bad way.”

“I’m afraid you are, unless you can find some one here who will befriend you in the matter.”

“There is no one here who will lend me four thousand dollars upon that piece of property,” said I.

“I don’t know but one man who is likely to do it,” was answered.

“Who is that?” I asked, eagerly.

“John Mason.”

“John Mason! I’ll never go to him.”

“Why not?”

“I might as well remain where I am as get into his hands–a sharper and a lawyer to boot. No, no. Better to bear the evils that we have, than fly to others that we know not of.”

“You may get assistance somewhere else, but I am doubtful,” said the man; and, bowing politely, passed on, and left me to my own unpleasant reflections.

Laxton made as quick work of the business as the nature of the case would admit, and in a very short time the property was advertised at public sale. As the time for the sale approached, the great desire to prevent the sacrifice that I was too well assured would take place, suggested the dernier resort of ailing upon Mason; but my prejudice against the man was so strong, that I could not get my own consent to do so.

On the day before the sale, I met the individual before alluded to.

“Have you been to see Mason?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Then you have made up your mind to let that scoundrel, Laxton, fleece you out of your property?”

“I see no way of preventing it.”

“Why don’t you try Mason?”

“I don’t believe it would do any good.”

“I think differently.”

“If he did help me out of this difficulty,” I replied, “it would only be to get me into a more narrow corner.”

“You don’t know any such thing,” said the man, a different tone from any in which he had yet taken when Mason was the subject of our remarks.

“Think, for a moment, upon the basis of your prejudice; it lies mainly upon the assertion of Laxton, from your own experience has proved to be a scoundrel. The fact is, your estimate of Mason’s character is entirely erroneous. Laxton hates him, because he has circumvented him more than a dozen times in his schemes of iniquity, and will circumvent him again, if I do not greatly err, provided you give him the opportunity of doing so.”

There was force in the view. True enough; what confidence was there to be placed in Laxton’s words? And if Mason had circumvented him; as was alleged, of course there was a very good reason for detraction.

“At what hour do you think I can see him?” said I.