forward on behalf of his pals, and receive in trust the money."

A Hundred Voices. "Wilson! Wilson! Wilson! Speech! Speech!"

Wilson [in a voice trembling with anger]. "You will allow me to say, and
without apologies for my language, _damn_ the money!"

A Voice. "Oh, and him a Baptist!"

A Voice. "Seventeen Symbols left! Step up, gentlemen, and assume your
trust!"

There was a pause--no response.

The Saddler. "Mr. Chairman, we've got _one_ clean man left, anyway, out
of the late aristocracy; and he needs money, and deserves it. I move
that you appoint Jack Halliday to get up there and auction off that sack
of gilt twenty-dollar pieces, and give the result to the right man--the
man whom Hadleyburg delights to honour--Edward Richards."

This was received with great enthusiasm, the dog taking a hand again; the
saddler started the bids at a dollar, the Brixton folk and Barnum's
representative fought hard for it, the people cheered every jump that the
bids made, the excitement climbed moment by moment higher and higher, the
bidders got on their mettle and grew steadily more and more daring, more
and more determined, the jumps went from a dollar up to five, then to
ten, then to twenty, then fifty, then to a hundred, then--

At the beginning of the auction Richards whispered in distress to his
wife: "Oh, Mary, can we allow it? It--it--you see, it is an