At a Public Sale. 253 



gered there, if alone, for half a day ; but not will- 

 ingly for half an hour in such a crowd. The 

 crowd, however, closed every exit, and all had to 

 submit. A possible chance to secure some odd 

 bit was my only consolation. Why the good old 

 soul who last occupied the house, and who was born 

 in it fourscore years ago, should necessarily have 

 had only her grandmother's table-ware ; why every 

 generation of this family should have suffered no 

 losses by breakage, was not asked. Every bit, 

 even to baking-powder prizes of green and greasy 

 glass, antedated the Revolution ; and the wise and 

 mighty of Smalltown knew no better. A bit of 

 egg-shell, sticking to a cracked teacup, was stolen 

 as a relic of Washington's last breakfast in Small- 

 town. 



While willow-pattern china was passing into 

 other hands, I made a discovery. A curious piece 

 of polished, crooked mahogany was seen lying 

 between soup-tureens and gravy-boats. I picked 

 it up cautiously, fearing to attract attention, and, 

 with one eye everywhere else, scanned it closely. 

 What a curious paper-knife ! was my first thought, 

 and the prize was slyly tucked back of a pile of 



