"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 in 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