tle tavern-keeper, folding
his arms restfully over his own stomach and cocking up one piggish eye
into his neighbor's face. "He ain't wuth his 'taters."

"Buy 'im foh 'is rags!" cried a young law student, with a Blackstone
under his arm, to the town rag picker opposite, who was unconsciously
ogling the vagrant's apparel.

"I _might_ buy 'im foh 'is _scalp_," drawled a farmer, who had taken
part in all kinds of scalp contests, and was now known to be busily
engaged in collecting crow scalps for a match soon to come off between
two rival counties.

"I think I'll buy 'im foh a hat sign," said a manufacturer of ten-dollar
Castor and Rhorum hats. This sally drew merry attention to the vagrant's
hat, and the merchant felt rewarded.

"You'd bettah say the town ought to buy 'im an' put 'im up on top of the
cou't-house as a scarecrow foh the cholera," said some one else.

"What news of the cholera did the stage coach bring this mohning?"
quickly inquired his neighbor in his ear; and the two immediately fell
into low, grave talk, forgot the auction, and turned away.

"Stop, gentlemen, stop!" cried the sheriff, who had watched the rising
tide of good humor, and now saw his chance to float in on it with
spreading sails. "You're runnin' the price in the wrong direction--down,
not up. The law requires that he be sole to the highes' biddah, not the
lowes'. As loyal citizens, uphole the constitution of the commonwealth
of Kentucky an' make me an offah; the man is really a great bargain. In
the first place, he would cos' his ownah little or nothin', because, as
you see, he keeps himself in cigahs an' clo'es; then, his main article
of diet is whisky--a supply of which he always has on ban'. He don't
even need a bed, foh you know he sleeps jus' as well on any doohstep;
noh a chair, foh he prefers to sit roun' on the curbstones. Remembah,
too, gentlemen, that ole King Sol'mon is a Virginian--from the same
neighbohhood as Mr. Clay. Remembah that he is well educated, that he is
an _awful_ Whig, an' that he has smoked mo' of the stumps of Mr. Clay's
cigahs than any other man in existence. If you don't b'lieve _me,_
gentlemen, yondah goes Mr. Clay now; call _him_ ovah an' ask 'im foh
yo'se'ves."

He paused, and pointed with his right forefinger towards Main Street,
along which the spectators, with a sudden craning of necks, beheld the
familiar figure of the passing statesman.

"But you don't need _any_body to tell these fac's, gentlem