arm to say that if we cannot believe all that we read in
the Bible, no more is it safe to take literally all that the auctioneer
asserts. A recent skit in "Life" is pertinent (quoted from memory):--

"_The wife._ Look at this splendid bargain I bought for twenty
dollars to-day. It's worth two hundred.

"_The husband._ Indeed! How do you know it is worth that much?

"_The wife._ Why, the auctioneer told me so."

A new plan of auction has been recently tried. You may buy in one or more
lots at your own price, and if you do not wish to keep any, they may be
returned within a certain number of days. You may bid _ad libitum_,
recklessly as you choose; and if your choice be not all that your fancy
and electric light have pictured it, you are under no obligation to keep
it or pay anything on it; you may elect to change your mind and send it
back. How this plan works in practice and finance has yet to be
demonstrated. It would seem to be all on the side of the buyer and against
the seller, who must lose many a bid from a _bona fide_ purchaser at a
lower figure. The matter of human nature doubtless figures in the problem,
because there is some little feeling of shame about returning an article
bought in under competition, no matter what the guarantee may be.

As to the auctioneers, they are always glib of tongue, good-natured, and
persuasive. That they are not canonically and absolutely truthful is
perhaps not their fault. They certainly cannot know more about rugs than
the few authorities who have made a study of the subject; and, as said
before, they are generally prompted by the "consignor" of the collection.
If only they would not call _every_ rug an "antique and priceless
specimen," their individual consciences might be happier, and their
audience less bored.

However, no matter what the audience, or how small it may be, there are
always some there who will appreciate the difference between a four-dollar
and a forty-dollar offering, and bid up the former to seven dollars and
the latter to thirty dollars. Thus the auctions go merrily on and strike a
general average. The skilful auctioneer will feel the pulse of his
audience with a quicker touch than the most renowned of doctors; and once
assured of their class and position, wealth and condition, and what grade
of merchandise they are willing to buy, the game is in his own hands,
provided only that his audience is large enough. He should have at least