AN AUCTION. BY THE AUTHOR OF "A CUP OF TEA." MAN is a child of sorrow; and this world W HAT A WORLD OF SORROW ABROAD WITHOUT SEEING money to stir about their pockets, and dig the pavement with their steel-tipped boots. See yonder punchy little fellow; with what an air he taps his foot on the stones, whistles out his consequence, and surveys the house from top to bottom! There. approaches a roundfaced personage, who swells herself along THIS IS! I NEVER WALK with fat disdain, and waddies into the hall as if the house itself would recede from her advance. But the most presuming is yonder white-cheeked man, dressed in black, and strutting up and down the hall, and into the and an echo accompanying his feet. How parlors, with a hissing impudence on his lip, architecturally he measures the lofty walls with his glance, opens the cupboards, and wades, with his body on a dubious balance, from room to room! He would fain persuade those around him, that he is something great TO DEPRESS THE SPIRITS. What can suggest more painful feelings, than the cold, mechanical preparations for selling off-perhaps all that a man possesses! I never like to see a house tricked out in auction fineries: the lazy stair-carpets lolling from the upper windows; and the lower ones patched like a vulnerated face,-all convey an idea of disgrace and dishonor. Within the house, dislike deepens into melancholy Who can bear to see the penetralia of any place, that has once been the abode of human beings, thrown open to the brazen stare and the rude rush of strangers, who flock in, on all sides, with craving eyes and gaping months-like harpies snuffing about for food and plunder? Often have I panted for the ability of seeing some superannuated poker in my way, and clearing the mansion of its intruders! When an auction occurs, people imagine that a house has lost all title to respect. This is a barbarous feeling, unworthy of being fostered in any bosom that beats in the nineteenth century. What! shall we wander with pauseful reverence among the ruins of antiquity, and yet burst into an unoccupied house, with grins that might grace a troop of hungry bears? The respect due to the very stones piled up into walls, might dictate more dutiful conduct. But there is something that ought to be still more influential in restraining rude advances,"-the recollection that it has been inhabited. Every man who has a home is capable of estimating the delights arising from its retirement and privacy; and he ought to carry a homely feeling with him when he attends any dwelling that is exposed to the calamities of an auctionday; let him remember, that though all is now blank and cheerless, the sounds of family voices, the sweet buzzes of home, once murmured through the deserted chambers! And who shall describe the hurly-burly at the hall-door of a house under the endurance of an auction? Insequitur clamorque virum, stridorque rudentium! This is the hour for unimportant Importance to swagger, and look on with an aristocratical stare of indifference. This is the moment for littleness to be greatness and men of VOL. V.-S. that his house is far beyond this in size and magnificence, and therefore all that he sees is unworthy any look of surprise. And is he truly a man of consequence? No! Behind, in the small square garden, graver, but not less snarling people, are traversing round the winding gravel walks, curling their noses at the bare remnants of fruit-trees and flower-beds, and kicking the straggling rows of box with most impertinent hauteur; and here it is that the family affairs of the owner of the house undergo a severe inquisition. This piece of business is generally transacted by two elderly men, who, with their hands crossed behind them, circle round the garden regardless of anybody else, and in loud, but critical tones, explode their sentiments and opinions. If the "old gentleman" who belonged to the mansion has departed this life, his stinginess, his cruel treatment of his first wife, and the dreadful habit he had of cursing, are duly exposed and censured. It is, moreover, hinted by one of these inquisitors, that the " old gentleman" has left a few awkward impressions of himself in divers parts of the country! If it be in consequence of the proprietor's extravagant style of living, that his dwelling is "to be sold by auction," his crimes are visited with showers of anathemas and sarcasms. What business had he with three men-servants, and six different wines on his table every day? Why did his "fine wife" flaunt about the town, like a peacock, on a Sunday morning, in her ostrich feathers and superb satin pelisses? And the daughters too,-how they tossed their heads as they sailed by their neighbors' doors! What necessity was there for their continual presence at the theatres, the concerts, and the races? Mr. Cheatall had much better have paid his creditors. They have no patience to see such ridiculous pretension at the expense of honesty and principle, they saw "how matters would end," long ago-it bas "fallen out" just as they prophesied it would, -they have "no pity" for such people. The most important and the most truly comfortable part of a well-managed house, is the kitchen. Though the parlors and drawing room are more poetical places, the "kitchen" is unrivalled for its hospitable appearance and domestic splendor; it is a place where the finest amongst us are not ashamed to be seen sometimes; and from whose savory area proceed those dishes and soups, which throw life and fatness into the aristocratical chambers. And let me ask any reader who has had the happiness to spend some of his juvenilian days at an "academy for young gentlemen"-if he has not considered himself to be in the third Heaven, when he has been able to steal into the kitchen on a gusty winter's day, have a little polite converse with the cook, collect hints respecting the dinner, and entice her into some treasonable act in the manufacture of the silky "sky-blue?" With this regard for the kitchen, what a damp comes upon the heart when we enter into a "kitchen," on an auction day! Where are all the culinary murmurs that used to greet the ear in such a complex jingle of copper, tin, and china? Where is the tall moon-faced clock that used to click with such solemn assurance, and unalterable gravity, amid the hubbub of "Marys," Johns," and "Marthas?" Where is the smoky jack, that helped to embrown the dripping rotundity of many a well-savored joint? And where! oh where! is the barrelfigured coachman, with a visage like a scraped carrot; and the cook, with her fiery complexion and fire-swimming eyes; and the giggling, manoeuvring, door-haunting housemaid; and the pale, inch-waisted ladies'-maid, that used to trip into the kitchen, with my mistress's "drawers" to be aired? Where are they all? ask, And echo answers, where!— What matin counsels, what noontide smacking of lips, and what evening rounds of mirth, that made all the platters to go a "nid, nid, noddin," were heard in this place a month since! What a homely flicker the piled fire used to fling athwart the gleaming covers of saucepans in array, and rose-figured plates, that stood on the dresser-shelves as if they were meditating a start on the floor! Pleasant was the humming bubble of the boiling water, the hiss of the roasting viands, the industrious patter of feet, the purr of the cat banqueting in lazy raptures before the fire-place, and the occasional plashy tread of a Newfoundland dog stalking through the kitchen with homely contentedness. But the most joyous scene of all that occurred in the kitchen was at Christmas, when the master and mistress winked at seasonable improprieties "below;" and, if they had any English material in their hearts, never scrupled to permit their servants' "friends and relatives from the country" to enjoy themselves in a liberal style. It is really quite charming to see how thankfully the red-cloaked dame is conducted to the kitchen by her town-refined daughter, there to taste some of the cook's "nice things." How bouncingly the young maid skips about before the old lady, as if to show her familiarity with all around her, and her perfect unastonishment at the grand assortment of plate and china, glittering on all sides. And now, while the door is shut, and "upstair ' duties over, what an honest sympathywhat a knife-and-fork commotion, what city giggles, and country jokes, are operating below! This is just as it should be; good servants are rare things, and occasional feasts and treats serve admirably well to keep their spirits and principles in tune. forbiddingly the deserted kitchen (a capital But all this has gone by; and look! how subject for a poem, by the bye) yawns on us now!-cheerless, noiseless, and fireless. The shelves are unfurnished, the walls are as bald as was Cæsar's head, the kitchen utensils are piled up in different lots, the tread of the street passengers sounds through the iron railing, a chilly wind is creeping through the half-opened doors, and all is endure such an uninteresting place? not the perfectly desolate and wretched. Who can reader-so he will please to walk up two pair of stairs, and be introduced to a livelier scene. And here we are in the drawing-room, or rather what has been a "drawing-room," but is now converted into a turbulent auction room. And what a chamberful of characters and things! With regard to the latter, it is a perfect chaos; and if we may venture a poetical figure, we might say that the furniture has suffered insanity, and danced itself into monstrous parcels, colisions, and unseemly separations. Everything appears exactly in that place where it ought not to be. One But for the former;-how shall we "hit off" the appearance of the different countenances and dresses of the company, in a short but masterly manner? Here are shoals of noses projecting forward, like gnomons of sun-dials-of all lengths and shapes. shoots forward with a sunbeam kind of vivacity, as if it would start from its present residence into the gentleman's visage opposite; another sticks bolt upright, like an unmannerly hair; one curls pertly at the tip; another is hooked, as if it could balance a kingdom at its extremity; one is laughingly snubby, about the size of a thimble, another but,-away with the noses, and let us look to the eyes! And, first; they are of all each other like the tails of the foxes which Sampson fired; but rather sudden explosions, starts, and sallies; flashes of plausive verbiage, which, setting fire to the avaricious feelings of the heart, descend, like electric shocks, into the pocket, and attract the cash. colors-fiery black, feline grey, and sleepy blue. Secondly, of all expressions-benevolent, malignant, envious, stingy, and sarcastic. So much for the personal attributes; as for the dresses, being marvellously uninformed in millinery, I shall not attempt to analyse them. One thing must be observed, that In one point the auctioneer is superior to all the women's heads were nearly bare as their orators, both ancient and modern—in intuition. unblushing faces, and their forms "fashion- It is wonderful to remark with what celerity ably" shapeless; whilst the men's faces were he glances over the crowded room, and detects masses of stiff hair, and their heads "empty." the bidder in the slightest movement of a To devote a description to all, or even a lip, or the most delicate stare of an eye. fifth part of the characters here assembled, In an instant, he perceives the acquiescence would disgust the reader as much as it would -"five pounds ten-(thank you, Madam!) tire the writer. Let us, therefore, glance five pounds fourteen-sixteen-eighteenround the room, and select from the multi-six pounds-(thank you, Sir!) --going at six tude a few of the most marked, and who invariably haunt an Auction. And, first, for the "Magnus Apollo," the rolling spirit-the mighty master of the "gab," and the accomplished wielder of the ivory hammer-The Auctioneer. There is one now before us, in the most graceful of attitudes, and with a most courtly mien. It is impossible to say whether any male sylphs have attended his toilet this morning; but assuredly, his habiliments are exquisitely disposed, and, in every respect, he looks as trim as a new sarsenet bonnet, from a milliner's band-box. His glittering locks group round his forehead in languishing curls; his skin is exceedingly sleek; and a breath of air might discolor the alabaster complexion of his neckcloth and his hands. Who shall do justice to the symmetrical mould of the fingers, and the contour of the wrist? One little finger is loaded with an enormous gold ring, which is exhibited with much careful inattention in the course of the morning's sale. With respect to the style and color of his garments, we must not venture to speak; so variable are the tastes of auctioneers! This much may be advanced with security, that the cloth is mostly superfine, and that the "cut" is of the first-rate fashion. It must not be forgotten, too, that a ponderous bunch of seals is always dripping from the waistcoat, a finale to the whole accoutrements of his person. ? pounds only-at six pounds only-this most admirable lot-shall I have the pleasure (looking to an old gentleman opposite, with a gaping mouth) to say six guineas for you It cost three times the inoney, I assure you! -going at six pounds only-going—going— gone!!! Madam, it is yours!" Among the auction frequenters, the brokers stand conspicuous; they are as constant in their attendance as birds of prey are on the plain, when the battle is over. There is something, however, very repelling about a broker. We cannot help imagining him to be heartless, and fond of cozening. He is generally a dusty-faced, Jewish-looking person, with a feeling of avarice for ever playing on his features. Being deeply versed in the science of detecting perforated kettles, and rheumatic chairs, he serves to keep the auctioneer within the bounds of probability; and when the former occasionally indulges in his hyperbolic propensities, you may perceive the broker turn his eye on him, with a most eloquent sneer, as much as to say, now that won't do! Like a duck in a pond, the broker gobbles all that comes in his way. Tables, trunks, carpets, and blankets; no matter what, if a penny can be gained on them. To explain this, it must be remembered that old articles, when disposed in a broker's shop, suddenly acquire new beauty and value. Old chairs and scratched tables are no longer to be The auction-room is the theatre for the sneezed at, they have assumed a glossy display of an auctioneer's glory. Here he is outside; and when a customer inquires their quite au fait. Head, eye, lip, and hand-price, the broker very gravely eulogises their all come into action here, and awe the fashionable make and excellent material. attendant "Johns" into obsequious promptitude and smiles. To analyse an auctioneer's eloquence is an arduous task; the forum and the bar can afford no rules by which we may dissect its merits and defects. The eloquence of the pulpit has certainly some consanguinity with it; but it is too feeble and glimmering to enable us to institute a comparison. It is made up of abrupt spouting, chiefly recommendatory and insinuative. It is not a long string of arguments, tied to her And who is yonder lady, spread upon chair with queenly gravity, crossing her thumbs and working her ferret eyes with diagonal glances? That is a lodging-house keeper, in tolerable circumstances, and on excellent terms with herself. She cannot see aught degrading in "letting out furnished houses," and therefore wears the veil with as much haughtiness as the finest among her sex; like the broker, she is well known to every auctioneer in the City, and may be seen at the meanest auctions, where she arrogates to herself much pretension and consequence; and hence, indeed, she retires with capital booty. You may observe the auctioneer most anxious to please this houseletting lady, and hear him exclaim to 'John," who is making his brown-paper cap, in a terrible flurry-John! hand the lot to Mrs. Dumbledoor: don't you see! She is as keen as the edge of a razor; as sly as the most experienced reynard; as immoveable as Mount Gothard. No auction palaver, no tinselled articles, no burnished tin passed off as silver, will entrap her. In the wink of an eye she runs through the tables of profit and loss, dissects the lots into naked reality, and as she has fifteen or more lodging. houses deposited in her mind's-eye," can tell you at a glance how any article will "come in ;"--she is not to be "done." In front of her are a lady and a gentleman; apparently an officer and his wife. It is laughable to observe them ;-the husband is come to town, and intends to "settle;" well; furni ture must be obtained, and he is now dancing round every auction in the neighborhood. And how he bids !-nothing comes amiss to him, everything seems SO excellent; SO "precisely fitted" for his purpose, that he cannot resist. He has obtained a few hundreds with his wife, and "it would look very mean not to have his house handsomely furnished." His lady appears rather more prudent. She is perfectly aware that fine furniture will not be all that is wanted- - and on this account, by various contortions in her features, inuendoes, tender little pokes in the side, and looks that speak the meaning-endeavors to restrain his extravagance. But it is in vain. He turns round to her after a most tremendously foolish bargain, and whispers into Lonisa's ear;-"You know, my dear, we can easily dispose of any article we may not want." That sounds very well; but it does not in the least abbreviate the lengthening visage of "dear Louisa :"-she is "certain that her husband is auction-mad, and would tug him away. At the close of the week there is enough "furniture" to fill several of Pickford's vans-and what for?-a cottage with four rooms! I have always noticed this kind of fool at an auction. But it is in old books he apes the most, and assumes the air of an accomplished bibliopolist. When a lot of mildewed volumes is exhibited, he smiles and grins, as if they were “a rich treat." Sometimes he ventures to address the auctioneer, and exposes some error in the catalogue. He knows a mighty deal too, about Haldus and Helzevir; Edit Prince. is the Prince's edition! He is fond of asking out loud," Is this the whole of Wirgilii Hopera?" But I will not "dwell" upon more "lots." So here let the curtain fall. ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE. interesting, as well as valuable features. Amusen.ent, correspondents enter readily into our naturally-playful Spring, and the Feathered Tribes.-I dare say, my dear sir, you thought me very rhapsodical in my last, whilst so prattling away about my flowers, and anticipating the joys about to burst upon us from the lap of Nature. Well, you must be aware, ere now, that I am one of her ladyship's own children. [We take the greatest delight in thee, HONEYSUCKLE. NOT ONE, among all our readers, possesses a larger share of our heart than thyself. So always write freely.] Every living thing I see at and I really long to have you as a companion in this season in the open air, fills me with rapture; our rural walks. We shall have so much to tell you, and to show you! [Rely, fair maiden, on our responding to your gentle command ere long.] I have recently been poring over the earlier pages of OUR JOURNAL, and note again with real pleasure your expressed sentiments about the wickedness of keeping our naturally-wild birds in a state of confinement. Just now, the cruelty of incarcerating our lovely songsters, strikes one very forcibly. They are so joyous when the sun shines-so busy dies! Free as air, they boldly claim their freedom preparing to greet us with their sweetest meloas a right. You should see [We will see them very soon] my numerous company of little winged pensioners! Imitating your example, I go among There are fifty more "characters," who them with a jar of mealworms; and how they do haunt the auction-rooms; one out of these, welcome me as they listen to my well-known it would be sinful to omit- the universal approaching footstep! It makes me so happy to bidder-but buyer of nothing! Perhaps, of win their confidence! No fear is there about all the conceited town-fools who swell them them. No. They follow me from tree to free; selves forward at sales, this is the most so. from one end of the garden to the other. The He is mostly a pert, pompous, priggish look-natural; and we do have such loving, innocent affection we feel for each other is as pure as it is ing creature, with remarkably white hands, and dressed in a black coat that is perfectly speckless. Whatever the lot be, he takes au interest in it; but is careful to bid early, that he may not endanger himself! in very sight of a bird in a cage makes me sigh,games together! Do you know, my dear sir, the unless it be placed there under peculiar circumstances. Canaries are of course exceptions to my remark. They are bred in cages; and confinement our finest nightingales directly they arrive. The blackcaps, too,-dear, confiding little creatures!— fall easy victims to the trap and worm. I hate the whole race of bird-catchers, and would gladly exterminate them, if I could. I do all I can to attract our spring visitors to our sacred grounds,but with all my care I am too often defeated. One by one our little pets disappear,-their vocal melody gradually growing less, until it is eventually silenced altogether. I was going to say something more about the flowers Bath'd in soft airs, and fed with dew. They are beginning to smile sweetly upon us; and I could be eloquent in their praise. Much do I love these— Floral apostles, that in dewy splendor Weep without woe, and blush without a crime. But I really am ashamed of the space I have already occupied. Oh, my dear Mr. Editor, if we could but get all the world to think as we think, and to feel as we feel,-what a happy race of beings we should be !-HONEYSUCKLE, Henley. is natural to them. By the way, I observe you propose to assist in carrying out Mr. Wollaston's plan of domesticating canaries in the open air. I shall indeed rejoice at this. It must be a pretty sight to see them ranging about at perfect liberty over that gentleman's domain,--the sun lending full effect to the variety of their colors. [When you come to London, HONEYSUCKLE, we will undertake to procure for you and yours a ready entrée to Mr. Wollaston's grounds. We will, moreover, accompany you.] Wild birds are never happy in cages. Anybody may perceive this. Their song-foolishly so called--is not joyous, mellow, liquid. It is a mere collection of snatches. The poor creatures no doubt amuse themselves as best they may, to wile away the time,- but no gushes have we of pure melody, no ecstacy of feeling,so peculiar to them in a state of freedom. To confine blackbirds, thrushes, linnets, chaffinches, robins, &c., in wire prisons,-is it not an act of savage barbarity? [Most emphatically do we say, "yes," HONEYSUCKLE. There is no doubt whatever upon the matter. Could these poor innocent little creatures speak their feelings, they would indeed tell a sorrowful tale!] What is it that imparts such a relish to the song of our birds as we stroll abroad? Is it not the landscapethe grove-the golden break of day-the contest upon the hawthorn-the fluttering from branch to branch-the soaring in the air-and the bird's answer to the call of its young? Here we have a pleasing association of exciting causes for delight. Smell, Taste, and Touch.-It is curious to note, Nothing, perhaps, when our mind is well attuned, says Dr. Lardner, the senses of smelling, tasting, can be more pleasing than to gaze upon the rising and even of feeling and touch. How liable they lark. Hark! how he warbles upon the wing,- are to innumerable causes of deception; if the raising his note higher and higher as he soars aloft, organ at the time it receives an impression be in until he seems positively lost in the realms of ether any unusual condition, or even out of its usual oyer our head. Still the anthem reaches the ear, position, the indication of the impression will be even though the chorister remains invisible. Then, fallacious. If two fingers of the same hand, being mark how he suddenly descends with a swell, as crossed, be placed upon a table, and a marble or he quits the clouds,-sinking by degrees as he pea is rolled between them, the impression will approaches his nest,―the sacred spot where all his be, if the eyes are closed, that two marbles or two affections are centred, and for love of which he has peas are touched. If the nose be pinched, and shown all this joy! Say,-my dear sir, is not this cinnamon be tasted, it will taste like a common enjoyable? Surely no person who can appreciate stick of deal. This is not a solitary instance. the feeling, would ever imprison a poor innocent Many substances lose their flavor when the bird between bars of iron and wood. How sweetly nostrils are stopped. Nurses, therefore, upon Chaucer sings, about the value a bird attaches to right and scientific principles stop the noses of bis liberty! Every word is true, and would break children when they give them doses of disagreethe heart of anybody but a citizen. The inha-able medicine. If things having different or bitants of cities are an iron-hearted race indeed! I believe all you say about that. But let Chaucer be heard: Take any bird, and put it in a cage; Let me hope that we may, between us, work a [Such a state of things, HONEYSUCKLE, cannot exist on earth. Man is made up of such odd constituents, that there can be no universal harmony amongst us. Rough and smooth; up-hill and down-hill; smiles and tears; sorrow and joy,—all are commingled. Happy they who possess a mind pure as thine !] opposite flavors be tasted alternately, in such rapid succession as not to allow the nerves of tasting to recover their state of repose, the power of distinguishing flavors will be lost for the moment, and the substances, however different, will be undistinguishable from one another. Thus, if the eyes be blindfolded, and buttermilk and claret be alternately tasted, the person tasting them, after a few repetitions of the process, will be unable to distinguish one from the other. Tastes, like colors, in order to produce agreeable effects, should succeed each other in a certain order. Eating, considered as one of the fine arts in the most refined state of society, is regulated by principles; and nothing can shock the habits and rules of epicureanism more than the violation of certain rules in the succession and combination of dishes. It is maintained that perfection in the art of cookery and the observance of its principles at the table is the surest |