336 



THE FARMER'S MAGAZINE, 



must have injured me with Btrangere. It was to the effect 



that MY PEDIGREES WERE NOT TO BE RELIED UPON. I 



have been a breeder of shorthorus for nearly fifty years, and 

 I have now more than twenty bulls out in the county. I can 

 with confidence appeal to those parties with whom I have for 

 so long a time done business, and to the public generally, to 

 say whether I am capable of such a gross fraud as has been 

 attributed to me. No man has paid more attention to the 

 pedigrees of his herd than I have done. My object has never 

 been to feed up my stock for show alone ; my attention has 

 chiefly been directed to blood and quality, with a view to suit 

 the requirements oi the experienced farmers in my own county, 

 who are ambitious enough to improve their stock. How far I 

 have succeeded I might leave the county to judge ; but I 

 cannot help indulging in a degree of pardonable pride at the 

 thought th.at I have done at least as much as any man to im- 

 prove the breed of shorthorns in my district. The motive 

 which prompted at once so malicious and mischievous a report 

 it is not for me to divine ; I leave myself and my traducer en- 

 tirely in the hands of the public, with a firm conviction that 

 they will do justice to both. I am very much grieved at being 

 obliged to make this public statement ; I do not do so, how- 

 ever, without having the most positive evidence of the report 

 having been circulated, and of the quarter from whence it 

 arose. I remain, sir, yours truly, 



Caistort Sept. IZtJt, 1860. Jas. G. Dixon. 



To "the man about town" all the amusing detail of 

 the mock-auction will be familiar enough. He knows 

 at a glance the substantial, respectable-looking auc- 

 tioneer, who turns so methodically to " the next lot." 

 Equally well acquainted is he with the well-dressed 

 " duffer" who carelessly bids another half-crown ; or 

 the more business-like decoy, handhng the article with 

 acalculating air, and apparently engagedin an argument 

 with himself as to whether it is worth "going on" or 

 not ? Ably can such an observer estimate " the party" 

 in the trade who regrets that he has already so large a 

 stock when these teapots are to be had for " next to 

 nothing." And how keenly can so experienced a 

 customer enjoy the compliment, that on his very en- 

 trance is paid to himself ! How at once the biddings 

 get brisker and brisker! How the well-to-do auc- 

 tioneer wakes up in a moment ! How longingly 

 the man in the trade eyes the silver bread- 

 basket; and how jealously he scans his neighbour, 

 the thimble-rig swell, who audibly announces his in- 

 tention to have that at any price ! While, all the 

 time, every one of the precious crew has a covert 

 glance on the stranger. He is the actual embodiment 

 of " the excellent opportunity that now occurs." His, 

 with a little judicious by-play, will be " the fearful 

 sacrifice" ; and he it is, that the worthy official in the 

 pulpit, is now exerting all his persuasive eloquence to 

 " sell without reserve." But a well-spent life in Lon- 

 don saves the intended victim, and ere he has fairly 

 crossed the threshold he has turned again, with a smile 

 of contempt at the shallow wiles of the needy gang. 

 Not for such as he is it that table-spoons are sorted, 

 clocks set going, and China punch-bowls paraded. 

 Rather is it of the country gentleman and jolly yeoman 

 that a market is to be made. Such as these is it who 

 must be lured to bite at bargains, and to take back 



to the missis a present, which shall not be worth car- 

 riage or lumber room'. 



" Have a care," then, ye hapless rurals, how ye 

 nod the head or catch the eye, when you come up to 

 town! But, alas! there is no hope for you. Within a 

 few miles of your own homes, in the midst of your 

 own friends and people, you shall find the twigs 

 far more artfully laid to entrap you, than ever they 

 were in Cheapside or the Strand. The man in the 

 trade shall carefully handle the article and run you 

 up. Your dashing facetious friend on tlie waggon, 

 evidently warmed by the good wine he took with his 

 luncheon, shall have " a shy" at you. The respected 

 owner will quietly ear-wig you that " they must all be 

 cleared off;" and the equally excellent auctioneer 

 more openly assure you that this is a sale without 

 reserve, and that the character of the stock and their 

 breeder requires no eulogium at his hands. And the 

 man in the trade, who looks anxious and eager enough 

 to begin, blurts out his " hear, hear!" The swell, who 

 BO relished that bottle of 'thirty-four, swears " this 

 is as it should be !" And one of our much-amazed 

 staff opens his book, his mouth, and his eyes, to believe 

 all he sees and rather more than he hears. And 

 then, of course, there is "a running fire"— and a 

 " sharp rally" — and one is " not to be denied" — and 

 another " gets his second wind" — and so forth. Quaint 

 remarks are dropped involuntarily. Curious little bits of 

 excellence are ingenuously illustrated by some estab- 

 lished humourist. And everybody leaves with the one 

 common feeling of regret that this magnificent 

 herd is so thoroughly dispersed ; coupled with an ex- 

 pression of gratitude for the genuine hospitality of the 

 host, and a similar record of thanks for the straight- 

 forward conduct of that amiable individual, the well- 

 known auctioneer. 



This is a picture of English life— hearty, open, and 

 honest— yielding readily and gracefully to the pen of a 

 descriptive writer. But proh pudor ! it is so only on 

 the surface. The well-advertised "sale of stock without 

 reserve " is in truth not without reserve. The worthy 

 owner who declares to you they shall all go, has made 

 his arrangements perfect for keeping back the best of 

 them, and 



" Plans your ruin while be grasps your hand." 

 The man in the trade who so "flashes" — there is no 

 other word for it — his eagerness to buy, is in reality 

 only buying in. The jolly gentleman warmed up with 

 port wine has known the part he has to play this 

 month since, and is here merely and solely to lead you 

 on. In a word, this genuine sale of Shorthorn 

 stock is a far more discreditable mock auction 

 than ever you encountered in the streets of London. 

 The plot is deeper laid, and the well-dressed 

 duffers are far more dangerous than the pitiful self- j 

 proclaimed scoundrels that waylaid you in your ramble 

 round the metropolis. Men of repute and character lend j 

 themselves now almost habitually to such a business. 

 An honourable member of the " Royal" or the " Club," j 

 who shall be ostensibly your opponent for the roan i 

 heifer, is'nothing more than " a sweetener," or, to say j 



