MY FIRST AUCTION SALE AT BLISSFIELD MICH.—PAGE 398.
I remember one song they used to sing that always took immensely. It was to the tune of "Marching Through Georgia." The chorus was:
"Come out, come out, you hungry wearied souls.
Come out, come out, we're here to do you good.
We've marched from East to West, and North, and now we're going South,
To supply the wants of those way down in Georgia."
When we drove back to a convenient corner and lighted our immense torches it seemed to me that the towns-people had turned out en masse and gathered around us.
After one or two more pieces by the musicians my proprietor handed me the keys and directed me to open up. I removed the covers from the top of the goods and then began sorting them over carefully. I then laid off my coat and again went through the goods.
Next I threw off my vest and sorted over more goods, till at last realizing that the time had come when something must be said, I looked knowingly over the vast concourse of people and then removed my hat.