On the day appointed, and within five or ten minutes after the hour fixed for business, he is announced by the ringing of a bell, and a cluster of eager-looking persons in the lobby are seen wending towards the auction-room, headed by a tall hale-looking man, about sixty years of age, walking as though he were rather stiff in the joints, holding some papers in his hand, and talking (without looking at any one as he moves) in a loud nasal tone and peremptory manner. He ascends the pulpit, and takes his seat, where he is seen more at leisure. On the occasion when I had the pleasure of seeing him, he was dressed in a pea-green frock-coat and velvet-collar, white trowsers and shoes, a buff waistcoat, and a bright-blue stock, surmounted by an ample pair of gills, and a physiognomy to which only M. Claudet, when the sun as the auctioneer is fond of saying "is pleased to shine upon us," could do full justice,-a bald head, bordered with a modicum of white hair, a forehead of ample developement, a rough weather-beaten complexion, lower features which come under the denomination of "ordinary," and a pair of dark destructive-looking eyes, quick in motion and various in expression, by nature wrathful, often watchful, playful if need be, and where the interests of his principal demand it, sparkling with merriment and fun. He looks a compound of the sportsman, the comedian, and the sea-captain, possessing considerable patronage, and of an iron constitution. A glass of water is brought up and placed beside him, slightly coloured. He arranges his papers, and, rubbing his glasses, surveys his congregation, recognising here one and there one, and honouring each with a gentle inflection of the head, and a slight contraction of the eye by no means amounting to a smile-unless where he recognises a capitalist or a distinguished intime, when, sportive as a kitten, genial as mine host of the tavern, and yet with something of causticity in his humour, he cries to him to "come into court, you sir, and not be screening yourself that way from public observation" leaving no escape for the capitalist, who obeys the injunction and advances within whisper-shot of his tutelary friend, for there's more between them than meets the cursory ear, and the capitalist is not one of the loungers. He then, still seated, calls upon the clerk to read the "conditions of sale," apologizing in a bluff tone for the tediousness of that ceremony, which he owns to be "flat and unprofitable," asseverating vivá voce, that if ever lines were applicable, those lines of the great bard were applicable to the reading of "conditions of sale;" but to which, however, he patiently listens, with his eye-glasses over his nose, and a copy of the " unprofitable" document lying "flat" before him. Interruptions now begin to arise. Gentlemen with ready money will ask questions. It is of no avail for the auctioneer to tell them that the title is unquestioned, that the Lord Chancellor has confirmed its validity in a court of equity, and that as far as that point goes one might make oneself happy about it, and without more ado go home and sleep and "end the heart-ache, And the thousand natural cares that flesh is heir to," he "must be satisfied," and catechises the advocate accordingly,— the catechumen looks condescension, and meets his inquiries with promptitude and effect. I understand there are few that venture to ask questions of this gentleman who ever make much by their motion; for if they elicit, as they often do, information favourable to the seller, so much the better for him; and if the colloquy have the opposite tendency, such is his ready versatility, that he can anticipate a thrust with the needle's point, or chaff his adversary into hopeless silence. He now stands up, and commences his exordium. This is surpassing. The beauties of nature are here eclipsed by the flowers of eloquence, and the figures of rhetoric cast into the shade by the nameless air with which he utters his eulogium on the house and grounds about to be knocked down to the highest bidder. I had been attracted to the scene by a perusal of his printed lucubrations, and now, in the presence of the master-spirit from which they had emanated, felt thankful that the property was so far beyond my poor means of investment as to leave me nothing to fear from the wiles of the arch tempter before me. In his oral address he rejects all formalities of diction, throws aside the restraint of continuity, and speaks with a racy energy truly irresistible. He unites the acumen of the pleader, the esprit of the wit, and the fascination of the improvisatore,-makes his hits and points like a great actor, and works them up with the aid of his potent physiognomy, his equally potent action, and his hammer. He states the valuation, and contends that it is too low,-and dilates upon the brightening prospects of agriculture under the blessed effects of Sir Robert Peel's new measure, the merits of which he declines discussing at length, but contents himself with simply predicting, upon his honour as a gentleman, that it must work incalculable good for the interests of all classes, and consequently of every class in particular. Upon his descending more into detail, I was struck by the felicity with which he dwelt on the exquisite adaptation of the land then under sale for the purpose of fattening bullocks. He was remarkably impressive here. There was a depth of conviction, a force, and a meaning in his enunciation of his belief in the land's capacity to fatten bullocks, which showed how completely he had thrown himself into his case; and the man must have been no other than an habitual sceptic who could have sat and heard those words from his lips, and have harboured even a lurking doubt that bullocks of any extraction, or of whatever previous habits of indulgence, both could, and were the choice given them would, have gorged themselves to repletion on the nutritious pasture in praise of which he made this powerful appeal. The bidding is at its height, and he throws in a little episode about the chalybeate, which " only wanted encouragement, and Harrowgate and Leamington would have to hide their diminished heads." He takes a sip of the coloured water. A meek man in the centre begs to know why the timber was not mentioned in the catalogue? The auctioneer affects incredulity, but finds, on inspection, that the important article in question had been omitted. He makes the acknowledgment; but, instead of apologizing for the oversight, retaliates upon his inquisitor for his presumption, by telling him plainly he is now expected, without equivocation, to become the purchaser. The auction advances, and with every new offer he finds fresh matter for dissertation. He alludes to the contiguity of the railroad, and comments with infinite force upon the luxury of coming up to town a distance of a hundred miles and going home to an eight o'clock dinner every day, which our poor forefathers could never have believed to be possible; and although this topic of wonderment, and the concomitant sneer at the past generation for only discovering principles of science and leaving to posterity the superior credit of their applica tion, is somewhat threadbare, in his hands it loses all its monotony, and positively smacks of originality. In proclaiming, also, the proximity of a church, he prettily confesses his faith in the utility of churches in general, the convenience of having them near one's residence, and the value of a religious reputation in the long run to respectable members of society. He half promises a seat in Parlia ment at the small expense of a princely hospitality, and on the same terms wholly promises the acquaintance of the solicitor of the place, who happens to be then at his elbow, and on whose heart, integrity, and cellar he pronounces an encomium that might have suffused with blushes any other cheeks than those of a solicitor. There is a pause, and he pretends to bring the affair to a close, "Goinggoing "-his left hand rising as he bends downwards till his chin almost touches the "conditions of sale," lips clenched and eyebrows expanded as at the verge of an impending crisis. A modestlooking gentleman enters, and all eyes are turned upon him by a cry from the auctioneer, that if he wants a seat in Parliament, now is his time. "Do you guarantee the seat?" drily interrogates a wag, noways interested in the sale. "Certainly, sir," is the reply, "if you will condescend to buy the estate. To be or not to be? as one of our great poets has said—” Gay, in The Beggar's Opera,'" again interpolates the daring wag, ambitious of fairly measuring wits with so distinguished a humourist. A burst of laughter gives the auctioneer breathing-time for adducing the name of his author, and he then turns upon his victim with a volley of merciless raillery, which annihilates his courage and his fancy at a blow. Other interruptions occur, which he encounters with the same bold front as before, and adding that nothing pleases him more than to be asked questions, as he knows they are always the prelude to a fresh bid. He traverses his ground again, and sums up with a declaration that the spot defies description—that it is fit for a little emperor-that there is a richness and a grandeur, together with a quietude and a repose about it, which in all his experience, which had been considerable, he had never seen equalledthat if it has a fault, it is that an expenditure of money in improvements on the little paradise were an utter impossibility; and in fine, that his Grace the Duke of Wellington himself might be proud to make the place his residence. Gifted and incomparable Disposer of lands, tenements, and hereditaments! Under sway of thy omnipotent art the very sense is quickened, the fancy warmed, and the credulity of the most obdurate bidder invoked, as by the spirit of a sorcerer. Thy extemporaneous rhetoric is not strained: like the quality of Mercy, it is twice blessed," it blesses him that sells and him that buys,”— "It is mightiest in the mightiest, It is now time to close: it is clear, from the countenances in his immediate vicinity, that the highest expectations have been realized: all are satisfied, the property is appreciated, and the auctioneer threatens to knock it down. He gives warning, that in one moment, in one solitary moment, the sacrifice must be made. He places his hammer to his heart, and vows he feels that he is making a sacrifice. It annoys him he declares it annoys him, and his face assumes the look of a man stung by a musquito. This most matchless thing of the kind-a place fit for a little emperor-and a house that will last till the end of the world, to be given away!" it offends him to the soul." As he gets pathetic, the nasal twang is more palpable. He is now trying the chance of an extra hundred. He says that, as it is the doom of man sometimes to be disappointed, so has he often in the course of his "long experience" felt the pangs of regret, but never to the extent to which he is agitated now. He confesses at the full pitch of his lungs that "there is a reluctance in this arm to do its duty," it upbraids him - it won't let him, - a smile steals through his tear-a titter commences-he reins up, becomes ferocious, indignant, disgusted! roars "shame" upon the sacrilege, and then knocks the lot down with a polite bow to the purchaser,and a draught of the coloured water is the climax. JOHN JONES. FAMILIAR EPISTLES FROM AN ELDERLY GENTLEMAN ON HALF-PAY. COMMUNICATED BY W. H. MAXWELL, AUTHOR OF STORIES OF 66 WATERLOO," HECTOR O'HALLORAN," &c. MY DEAR JACK, Hotel, Ramsgate, August, 1842. I HAVE the pleasure of announcing a safe arrival,—to which annex the location of my person and effects, (vide date above,)—add thereunto an exquisite swim, with a walk across the sands, and so ends the morning's history. Take it "for all in all," this place is tolerable, albeit the majority of its migratory population appertain to that extensive order of humanity, intituled-not by Cuvier-" tag-rag-and-bobtail." To a man curious in the varieties of his own species, I would recommend a pilgrimage to the pier of Ramsgate. "The noblest study of mankind is man," says somebody, who, for the life of me, I can't remember. If you agree with him, come here-and the most extensive curiosity will be gratified. Here you will find an assorted pattern of the human race. Occasionally you may encounter gentlemen, of course, "few and far between;" but the prevailing professionals are militaires, from Bevis Marks, who correctly understand that the muzzle of a musket is not the end generally applied to the shoulder. Sailors, of the T. P. Cooke-school, who consider that seamanship consists in ejaculating "shiver my timbers!" and hitching the waistband of their unmentionables with a hand that never grasped any substance tougher than stiffened gingham. You will elbow " genteel youths," that being the advertising appellative for mercers' apprentices, all and every provided "for the nonce" with a cutting whip, but who, during natural life, have been innocent of oppressing the back of that "friend of man," the horse. I did remark one adventurous emigrant from Ludgate Hill actually astride (mem.—the quadruped let by the hour at one shilling and sixpence, and nothing extra for a somerset,) but he was no common boy ;" and, to judge by the elegance of his seat, and the peculiar method in which he held the bridle, I should infer that he had enjoyed the advantages of an equestrian education, and received instructions in the riding-school of the Horse Marines. Add to these, stout personages from the Stock Exchange, and modest Israelites from Houndsditch,-portly landladies and thin spinsters-one screaming, "M'riar, do you see the steamer?" responded to by "Sophiar, do ye think I'm blind?” Finally, complete the company, ad libitum, with publicans and sinners, Jews and Gentiles, and voilà the pier of Ramsgate! Much as they may differ in external appearance, on one point the denizens of Ramsgate seem unanimous: all are in pursuit of pleasure, and each seeking it after his peculiar taste, from "the old man kissing the maid, to the young one reading the Bible.” I promised to chronicle my adventures, and therefore I shall "begin with the beginning." The transit from London Bridge to Ramsgate Pier, you are aware, is proverbially hazardous; and the daring man who first ventured on the deep, and whose courage is immortalized by old Flaccus, was no more comparable to the desperado who voyageth now-a-days from the Isle of Dogs even to the South Foreland, than a churchwarden to a colonel of cuirassiers. Until we passed Gravesend, the voyage threatened to be prosperous. Men began to speak with confidence of speedy reunions with their wives; and even lovely woman conquered her timidity, and spoke with buoyant hope of seeing sisters from whom they had been separated for a fortnight. The Countess (I forget the heraldic addition) with "her peopled decks," progressed gallantly towards her destination-Ladies smiled-gents. (a cockney diminutive, meaning gentlemen) blew their cloud in peace-the band played "Rory O'More"-the steward intimated that "hot potatoes were ready,""and all went merry as a marriage-bell." Indeed, danger was apparently at an end; we were absolutely under the especial patronage of the genii of the Thames; and it seemed almost certain that no opportunity would be afforded the most tuneful passenger, from personal experience, to "sing the dangers of the seas." But to the gods, or rather to the skipper, aliter visum. " On our larboard bow was seen a hovelling boat, and on our starboard a heavy barque-and in avoiding Scylla, the hoy, we popped into the three-masted Charybdis. The commander looked anxiously from the paddle-box,-a waive of his hand was answered by the exclamation of "Hard a-port!" The Countess gave a broad yaw," and went "slick" into the quarter of the Daniel O'Connell! the said Daniel standing A. 1. twelve years at Lloyd's, and outward bound, with a general cargo. 66 It was indubitably an unlady-like proceeding on the part of the Countess to run foul of the Liberator. Had the lawyer run foul of the lady, why, there would have been no novelty in that. Loud and startling was the outcry that arose. Ladies fainted, or attempted to faint,-lap-dogs barked, and two gentlemen of unquestioned bravery, one a sergeant in the Surrey Yeomanry, the other a distinguished private in the City Light Horse, actually changed colour, looking exceedingly like the great Napoleon, when on the night of Waterloo he pleasantly remarked, “ À present c'est fini!" Even the youngest on board were not insensible to coming events; but inquiries were frequent of, "Pa, shall we certainly be |