'Mr. Squire, lot number two, if you please. I thank you kindly. A pair of bellows and a nautical almanack. Very good, very. Wind and tide. Who will offer?'
'What year?' shouted a seaman, with reference to the date of the almanack.
Mr. Hawkes did not answer. He was occasionally deaf.
'Now then,' said he hastily, 'a pair of bellows, without which no wife can manage, and a nautical almanack indispensable to every sailor or boatman. Such a combination is most appropriate; the husband and the wife each has a share in this lot. One shilling! I misunderstood; surely no one offered so paltry a sum. Come—another sixpence. That is right. One and six. Anyone bid further? Right! Two shillings. Two and six, and dirt cheap. Take it, young man. Your name, I believe, is Temple.'
After a pause, 'It is fresh out here, ladies and gentlemen. If you will pass round the glasses you will obtain a little warmth applied in the right place. Stoke where the fuel ought to go: under the boiler. Lot number three.' He held up a picture.
Then a sailor called out, 'Where is the Paycock?'
'The Paycock? What does he mean?' asked the auctioneer of his assistant.
A whispered communication ensued.
'Oh! the Paycock, a study in wools, is withdrawn. Filial feelings, which we all respect, et cetera. But what have we here? Daniel in the Lions' Den, with crimson velvet curtains fringed with gold bullion, hanging down in the den, and the prophet depicted, very properly, in adoration. Light streaming from above. In the remote distance aloft—King Ahasuerus, wasn't it?—gazing on the sublime scene with emotion. A scriptural subject—Daniel in the Lions' Den—one shilling. Yes, ma'am, eighteen pence—sir—two shillings. The velvet curtains are alone worth that. Half-a-crown. So good for your children, help to make them realise the sacred narrative. Three shillings. Give pleasure and instruction combined to little Tommy, and make him say, "Mammy, I have read about Daniel in my Bible"—give—thank you, three and six. Right—four shillings. Going, going, gone.'