e,
though exceptional position (for it is clear that there cannot be more
than two of the class,) may the auctioneer occupy.

He must not sacrifice his honesty, then, either for his own sake or his
clients', in any way, nor tell fibs about himself or them. He is by no
means called upon to draw the long bow in their behalf; all that his
office obliges him to do--and let us hope his disposition will lead him
to do it also--is to take a favorable, kindly, philanthropic view of the
world; to say what can fairly be said by a good-natured and ingenious
man in praise of any article for which he is desirous to awaken public
sympathy. And how readily and pleasantly may this be done! I will take
upon myself, for instance, to write an eulogium upon So-and-So's last
novel, which shall be every word of it true; and which work, though
to some discontented spirits it might appear dull, may be shown to be
really amusing and instructive,--nay, IS amusing and instructive,--to
those who have the art of discovering where those precious qualities
lie.

An auctioneer should have the organ of truth large; of imagination and
comparison, considerable; of wit, great; of benevolence, excessively
large.

And how happy might such a man be, and cause others to be! He should go
through the world laughing, merry, observant, kind-hearted. He should
love everything in the world, because his profession regards everything.
With books of lighter literature (for I do not recommend the genteel
auctioneer to meddle with heavy antiquarian and philological works) he
should be elegantly conversant, being able to give a neat history of
the author, a pretty sparkling kind criticism of the work, and an
appropriate eulogium upon the binding, which would make those people
read who never read before; or buy, at least, which is his first
consideration. Of pictures we have already spoken. Of china, of jewelry,
of gold-headed canes, valuable arms, picturesque antiquities, with what
eloquent entrainement might he not speak! He feels every one of these
things in his heart. He has all the tastes of the fashionable world. Dr.
Meyrick cannot be more enthusiastic about an old suit of armor than
he; Sir Harris Nicolas not more eloquent regarding the gallant times in
which it was worn, and the brave histories connected with it. He takes
up a pearl necklace with as much delight as any beauty who was sighing
to wear it round her own snowy throat, and hugs a china monster with