of unlearned men, but only the ignorance of a few little girls when he came out to give us Scripture teaching.

He had been instructing us one day about the end of the world, and that no one would then be left alive in this mortal flesh upon earth, when my small sister spoke up boldly,

"I don't believe it."

"But you must believe it, my child," said the Warden, "for it is true."

"It can't be true."

"Why not?" queried the perplexed divine.

"There must be people left in the world to cut the turf for hell," said my sister clinchingly and triumphantly.

The question of turf, indeed, loomed very large in all Irish households in those days, for except in the towns near the coast coal was rarely burnt. Our turf-bogs lay at the lower end of Blackwood's Magazine.

our lake, and the turf was brought up in big, clumsy turf-boats, and discharged at what we called the turfquay, below the house. I remember one of our visitors standing on our hall-door steps, looking out over our lawn and lake to the purple slopes of the heather-clad mountains rising beyond, and extolling the beauty of the view and the judgment of the old builders who had set the house just where it stood. My grandmother, to whom this encomium was made, and who had an eminently practical mind, answered drily, that for her part she thanked Providence that those who had gone before her had built the house where there was an abundant supply of spring-water, and within convenient proximity of a good turf-bog, --matters vastly more important, to her thinking, than the finest prospect in the world.

"Oblong early French mirror, in richly carved and gilt frame. Sheraton settee, four-seat.' That reads all right."

The speaker was my friend Errington, and the scene a stuffy carriage in the new "fast" morning train up to London. Errington was a collector. His house in quiet little Midford was filled with antiques and curios of all sorts. Collecting was his hobby, and he was now busily engaged looking over the catalogue of a furniture sale to which we were both going. The sale in question was near to Pagton, a sleepy little town some forty miles south-west of London, with which a portion of my early life had been associated; and having introduced the matter to my friend, I had made arrangements to accompany him.

This for several reasons. There was

my own connection with Pagton, I was interested in Errington's collection, and finally the deceased lawyer, whose goods were being sold, had some little attraction for me, for I could not help thinking that some of his money, at least, had been accumulated at my expense.

It was "view day"; therefore, upon arrival, we at once made the best of our way to the scene of the sale.

The lawyer could not exactly be called an art patron, the pictures and ornaments being distinctly commonplace; but he had acquired, by means known best to his profession, some good old furniture. A few items under the heading of "Hall" and "Drawing-Room" had attracted Errington. The French mirror, the Sheraton settee, and one or two others seemed, to say the least, promising.

The settee had a history and a reputation of its own. It had some years previously been purchased by a private gentleman of the neighborhood at the dispersal sale of a well-known collection, on which occasion it had been run up nearly to three figures, being really a most perfect example of Sheraton furniture. From this gentleman's hands it had passed into the possession of Lawyer Philbank by a quiet process, but quite known to dealers and collectors, who keep an eagle eye on well-known and valuable specimens. Consequently, on the announcement of the present sale, several of them were upon its trail.

In the common variety of country furniture sales the descriptions "Sheraton" and "Chippendale" occur very frequently, and the chances of picking up a piece of furniture actually by these makers is a slender one; but in the present case here was the article, its history written and well known to all, and its resting-place noted in the pocket-book of more than one dealer for years past.

At this sale, therefore, were several "sets" of dealers, all bent on either securing the prize or making a little out of it. There were the local furniture men, determined to "make the Londoners pay." There was the usual group of general antique buyers from the various Midland centres, who would stand together against the locals and pay them out as little as possible, securing all they could, confident

and quite sure that when they "dropped" a lot there was no profit in it for any one else. Lastly, there was the small group of "Londoners" referred to, equally confident of being able to outbid the country antique men and yet secure a good profit from some rich amateur.

Against this combination of dealers and groups of dealers the amateur stood a poor chance of getting such a "plum" cheap. And so thought I and my friend Errington as we sauntered through the house, picking up a lot here and there for a closer inspection.

To several present Errington was not unknown. He had on more than one occasion given them a fruitless journey, having bid up for lots until they could hardly earn their railway fare out of them. Consequently, when they saw he was most evidently aware of the history of the settee, and probably also of its value, their hopes of "knocking out" any really substantial sum vanished. Still, such men are nothing if not stoical. Time-and a very short time, too-would show whether they could earn one sovereign or twenty out of it, and there the matter had to rest.

The first day's sale commenced. An hour or two of patient waiting, during which the auctioneer metaphorically waded through the front kitchen, the back kitchen, and the larder-dwelling as long upon the knocking down of an iron pot as a city auctioneer would upon a £50 diamond ring-and the "Hall" was reached. This had been the location of the settee.

The moment of the sale had arrived. The curious waited with bated breath to see to what figure the masterpiece would rise. Three and even four figures were whispered about from ear to The dealers became all attenTo them the question was, was

ear. tion.

there anywhere in the room a serious bidder for it outside their own ring? If not, they would divide a comfortable sum among themselves and one of them would carry off a prize. If there were such a bidder, the sum to be divided would certainly be small; it might be to vanishing point, andthere might be no prize at all.

It was bravely started at a sovereign by a local man anxious to show his knowledge of the value of such things, and carried up in five-shilling bids by one or two of the neighboring gentry to seven pounds ten. At this point a furniture man took it up, and it looked like being knocked down until Errington stepped in. Then ensued a duel: Errington on the one band and the furniture dealer on the other, the rest of the "ring" being content to leave it to their spokesman. By bids of half a sovereign it rose to eighteen pounds, and it became evident to the "ring" that Errington meant business. Standing next to him was a Leicester dealer who had met him once or twice at other sales and knew the general result of his bidding. The dealers' case was getting desperate. To see good money paid to the auctioneer when it might be divided amongst themselves goes against the grain of a dealer's mind; therefore, as desperate cases require desperate remedies, the Leicester man, with a nod to his companions, edged up to Errington, and quietly gave him a sign to cease bidding, and they would see that he had the opportunity of buying it afterwards or sharing with them.

Now the dealer, whatever his business methods, is honorable in "standing in." Once a compact is made, none but a blackleg would cry off. This Errington knew, and therefore, seeing that to continue bidding would mean either being outbid in the end or buying very dear, while to cease would give him a chance of getting it at a VOL. XXXV. 1844

LIVING

AGE.

more reasonable figure, he ceased, and allowed the auctioneer to knock it down at eighteen pounds ten, to the utter confusion of the locals.

The sale proceeded, the company dispersed, and thus ended the first sale of the settee.

The second took place in the warehouse of the local furniture man who had bought it. To this rendezvous the mixed lot of dealers gathered, and with them Errington. Lists and catalogues were produced, an auctioneer appointed, and the lots purchased by the various men were gone through in regular order.

"Lot 143, mahogany dining-table," called the auctioneer. "Four pounds. Any one want this table?"

"Yes; four pounds ten," said a voice. "Five pounds."

At five pounds it was knocked down, and the difference-twenty shillingspooled.

Lot after lot was thus disposed of, the pool growing steadily. At last the settee was reached.

"Who wants the settee?" said the auctioneer. "Eighteen pounds ten." "Nineteen," came from a bystander. "Twenty," said the Leicester man, and carried it up to twenty-eight pounds, at which point the locals all ceased to bid; and having nudged Errington to keep quiet, the Leicester man was the purchaser at that amount, nine pounds ten going to swell the pool.

At the end of this "sale" the pool, some twenty pounds or so, was divided equally amongst those present. Errington sharing, it being understood by the locals that he was a dealer standing in with the London lot.

Time was now getting short, as several present had long journeys before them, and the 6.5 up train was the latest that would serve. A small private room in Pagton's single commercial hotel was therefore the scene of the

third "sale," which was conducted to the accompaniment of a hasty tea. The "bag" of the party, seven in num ber, consisted of two articles only-the French mirror and the Sheraton settee. One of the London men appeared in an easy and natural way to take the position of chairman. Evidently he was a king among dealers. Addressing Errington, this important gentleman corteously informed him that stress of circumstances had forced them to take him into their settlement to some extent, and that he would now have his opportunity. At the same time he made it quite clear that they did not intend to let him share their profits further than he was prepared to bid.

The mirror was first put up. This stood at six pounds, at which figure Errington did not want it. He therefore let it pass, noting that no one else bid for it either, and rightly assumed that the true settlement among themselves was to follow when he had been got rid of.

The settee followed.

"Twenty-eight pounds," said the

chairman.

"Twenty-nine," said Errington, and ran it up steadily by one pound bids to eighty, at which figure it stood to the credit of the "ring." Regretfully he ceased.

"Have you done, sir?"

"Yes, I am afraid so."
"Very well, then.

We had better settle at once. Fifty-two pounds to knock out between seven of us. Your share, sir, will be seven guineas," and, suiting the action to the words, the chairman passed the coins over the table.

There being no further excuse for Errington to stay, to the evident relief of the party he wished them good-day and soon after joined me outside, re.counting his first experience of a dealer's "knock-out."

It was a keen disappointment, but could not be helped. After tea we took a stroll through the town, and while I noted the old familiar objects and a few strange new ones, my friend calmed and consoled himself with a cigar. As we passed I noted several faces well known to me, and especially an old fellow leaning over his front garden gate quietly smoking. "Good evenin', sir," said this individual.

"Good evening, John," said I, at once recognizing the voice as that of the lawyer's old gardener. "How are you getting on? Are you going to be taken on by the new owners of the house?"

"Nay, nay, sir, my time's over. Had to gi'e up three year ago; but the maister's been very good-let me live in this cottage, and now they tell me 'e's willed it to me in 'is will."

"I'm glad to hear it. I should think you were sorry to see the old things sold to-day?"

"Oh, aye, an' some of 'em fetched money, they did, too. There were that 'all seat as 'e 'ad made in Lunnon fetched mor'n 'e give for it, and lots o' things the same, I'm told."

"What seat was that?" I asked, and Errington pricked up his ears. "Why, that one as 'e 'ad made to look like the old 'un."

This was becoming interesting. "Do you mean that four-seat settee with the thin arms and a carved back-because that was a hundred years old if it was a day?"

"That's the one, sir; but it warn't no hundred year old. You see, sir, it were like this, 'e 'ad an old 'un-got it from the old squire's-an' it stood in the 'all some years, until one night there was a bit of a fire and it got burnt, not burnt up, ye understand, but burnt all ower black and one end done for altogether."

"Oh! what became of it then?" I asked.

"Well, ye see, it was so burnt that 'e thought it could niver be got right agin; so 'e 'ad a Lunnon man down to see it an' make another jest like it was. They say it cost him fifteen pound, and no one could have told the difference."

"And what became of the old one?" "'E 'ad it mended so as to stand up all right, an' I painted it, an' it stood in the garden agin the tennis lawn where ye see it now-that's what become of it. I don't expect it'll fetch much now."

This was news. Giving the old fellow half-a-crown for "baccy" money, we retraced our steps more hastily than we had come.

Could this really be true? No, surely it could not. Still, we would at least have a look at the garden seat. A sharp walk brought us once more to the scene of the sale. The gate at the carriage entrance was open, and the purchases of the day were being removed. We passed in and walked round the house. There, against the tennis lawn, sure enough was a painted seat, its outlines curiously like the Sheraton settee sold that afternoon. A close inspection convinced us both that the old gardener was quite correct, and we determined to purchase it the next day when the garden and outdoor effects were to be offered. Accordingly, the next morning found The Pall Mall Magazine.

us quite excited at the outdoor sale. The seat went for five shillings and was duly conveyed to our hotel, where in an outhouse we both fell to, busily scraping off the paint from the legs. The old gardener had done his work well. Some four coats of paint, put on with no sparing hand, completely filled up the carving and covered the delicate lines of the wood-work; but it soon became apparent that this was indeed the genuine settee, and the other, the much-sold and muchknocked-out, sold on its known history and reputation, was the modern copy!

We afterwards heard that the "gang" knocked out a further sum of twenty pounds before finishing their tea, the "chairman" being the purchaser. In the London train, the "countrymen" having been got rid of, he and a solitary companion had a duel for it on the way to town, its final price running well into the hundreds!

Fortunately the damage to the settee was not so great as it might have been, and with a little professional attendance it was made to look presentable once more, though it had perforce to stand upon one artificial leg and support one artificial arm. Still, a Sheraton settee is a Sheraton settee, and it is not the least prized of Errington's possessions.

Godfrey J. Franks.

The conjunction of personal and social forces which is now exhibited in American politics is particularly instructive. Reports of the political situation show that the American people is wincing before the sensational revelation of its practical impotence to secure its primary rights of "life, liberty. and the pursuit of happiness," against

the growing domination of railroads, trusts, financial corporations, and the "machine." The inability of the Federal Government to fasten and enforce legal control upon the great business corporations presents the problem of American democracy in its most concrete form, a problem at once constitutional, legal, and economic. Both Re