Gideon Rand, as he rode, thought of the bright leaf in the cask, of the Richmond warehouse, and fixed the price in his mind.

His mind was in a state of sober jubilation.

His only brother, a lonely, unloved, and avaricious merchant in a small way, had lately died, and had left him money.

The hundred acres upon the Three-Notched Road that Gideon had tilled for another were in the market.

The money would buy the land and the small, dilapidated house already occupied by the Rands.