A great throng assembled to witness the extraordinary event, and to take advantage of bargains with the traveler-auctioneer, who, mounted on a pile of wood, with plug hat in hand, yelled at the top of his voice and finally disposed of the rubbish. The art of auctioneering seemed to come to me by inspiration, and the enthusiastic farmers and towns-people swarmed around me, eager to secure a trophy of the notable sale.
"Three superb harrows are now to be sold, and will be sold, if I have to buy them myself—seventy-two tooth, thirty-six tooth and false tooth harrows; harrows with wisdom teeth, eye teeth and grinders, will grind up the soil and corn-stubble in a harrowing manner, and cultivate the acquaintance of the earth better than any other kinds made. How much am I offered?" As I yelled, I felt that I had strained my voice.
"One dollar," called a granger to set the ball rolling.
"One dollar, one dollar, one dollar—going one dollar—gone one dollar—to the bow-legged gentleman over there, with albino eyebrows"—"This way, sir!" I shouted. "Constable, please take his name, and chain him to the wood pile."
In this manner it didn't take me long to dispose of the farm, including the soil four thousand miles deep, and the air forty-five miles high. I finished the ordeal by noon, was paid my fee, and then discourteously told that I had realized several hundred dollars less from the sale than the constable himself could have done. Still every purchaser admitted he was more than satisfied with my generous conduct, shook my hand, bought a chromo and expressed the desire to meet me again. And that was a thing that does not happen always in connection with vendues.
[CHAPTER XII.]
At a country dance
I do love these ancient ruins.
We never tread upon them but we set
Our foot upon some reverend history.