"What is strange?"

"That a man who has lived in this community as long as you have,
can't find a friend willing to loan him three hundred dollars to
save his farm from the Sheriff. There's something wrong."

Yes, there was something wrong, and poor old Mr. Bacon felt it now
more deeply than ever. Another feeble effort at remonstrance was
made, when Mr. Dyer coldly referred him to Grant the lawyer, who had
now entire control of the business. But he did not go to him. He
felt that to do so would be utterly useless.

Regular proceedings were entered upon for the settlement of the
mortgage, and hurried to an issue as speedily as possible. It was
all in vain that Mr. Bacon sought to borrow three hundred dollars,
or to find some person willing to take the mortgage on his farm, and
let him continue to pay the interest. It was a season when few had
money to spare, and those who could have advanced the sum required,
hesitated about investing it where there was little hope of getting
the amount back again except by execution and sale. For, Mr. Bacon,
in consequence of his intemperance, was steadily running behindhand;
and all his neighbours knew it.

The effect of this trouble on the mind of Mr. Bacon was to cause him
to drink harder than before. His cheerful temper gave place to a
silent moodiness, when in partial states of sobriety, which where
now of rare occurrence, and he lost all interest in things around
him. A greater part of his time was spent in wandering restlessly
about his house or farm, but he put his hand to scarcely any work.