During this absence of Jim’s, which, I think, was the real cause of Alice’s displeasure, the Herald Addition sale went forward, with all the “yellow” features which the minds of Giddings and Tolliver could invent. It began with flaring advertisements in both papers. Then, on a certain day, the sale was declared open, and every bill-board and fence bore posters puffing it. A great screen was built on a vacant lot on Main Street, and across the street was placed, every night, the biggest magic lantern procurable, from which pictures of all sorts were projected on the screen, interlarded with which were statements of the Herald Addition sales for the day, and quotations showing the advance in prices since yesterday. And at all times the coming auction was cried abroad, until the interest grew to something wonderful. Every farmer and country merchant within a hundred miles of the city was talking of it. Tolliver was in his highest feather. On the day of the auction he secured excursion rates on all of the railroads, and made it a holiday. Porter’s great military band, then touring the country, was secured for the afternoon and evening. Thousands of people came in on the excursions and it seemed like a carnival. Out at the piece of land platted as the Herald Addition, whither people were conveyed in street-cars and carriages during the long afternoon the great band played about the stands erected for the auctioneer, who went from stand to stand, crying off the lots, the precise location of the particular parcel at any moment under the hammer being indicated by the display of a flag, held high by two strong fellows, who lowered the banner and walked to another site in obedience to signals wigwagged by the enthusiastic Captain. The throng bid excitedly, and the clerks who made out the papers worked desperately to keep up with the demands for deeds. It was clear that the sale was a success. As the sun sank, handbills were scattered informing the crowd that in the evening Tolliver & Company, as a slight evidence of their appreciation of the splendid business of the day, would throw open to their friends the new Cornish Opera House, where Porter’s celebrated band would give its regular high-class concert. Tolliver & Company, the bill went on, took pleasure in further informing the public that, in view of the great success of the day’s sale, and the very small amount to which their holdings in the Herald Addition were reduced, the remainder of this choice piece of property would be sold from the stage to the highest bidder, absolutely without any reservation or restriction as to the price!
I had received a telegram from Jim saying that he would return on a train arriving that evening, and asking that Cornish, Hinckley, and Lattimore be at the office to meet him. I was on the street early in the evening, looking with wonder at the crowds making merry after the dizzy day of speculative delirium. At the opera house, filled to overflowing with men admitted on tickets, the great band was discoursing its music, in alternation with the insinuating oratory of the auctioneer, under whose skilful management the odds and ends of the Herald Addition were changing owners at a rate which was simply bewildering.
“Don’t you see,” said Giddings delightedly, “that this is the only way to sell town lots?”
Jim came into the office, fresh and buoyant after his long trip, his laugh as hearty and mirth-provoking as ever. After shaking hands with all, he threw himself into his own chair.
“Boys,” said he, “I feel like a mouse just returning from a visit to a cat convention. But what’s this crowd for? It’s nearly as bad as Broadway.”
We explained what Giddings and Tolliver had been doing.
“But,” said he, “do you mean to tell me that he’s sold that Addition to this crowd of reubs?”
“He most certainly has,” said Cornish.
“Well, fellows,” replied Jim, “put away the accounts of this as curiosities! You’ll have some difficulty in making posterity believe that there was ever a time or place where town lots were sold with magic lanterns and a brass band! And don’t advertise it too much with Dorr, Wickersham and those fellows. They think us a little crazy now. But a brass band! That comes pretty near being the limit.”
“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Lattimore, “I shall have to leave you soon; and will you kindly make use of me as soon as you conveniently can, and let me go?”