some of the furniture which was strewed there.

"Eh, sirs!" said an old man, brushing a tear from his eye, "I never
thoucht to ha' seen the like o' this day's wark--and my forbears have
had a bit o' farm under the laird's a hundred an' saxteen year, and
better nor kinder folk to the puir man never lived."

Mr. Nibble, who was Messrs. Sharke's agent, was bustling about, and
I found him engaged with a fat, pompous little fellow, the auctioneer,
from a neighbouring town.

"Sad business this, Mr. ----," said he, "Fernlands is in a sad taking
about it, I believe, but things of this kind will occur, you know; and
I always say what can't be cured must be endured, eh."

I turned with an ill-concealed expression of disgust from this man, and
entered the house in search of my friend, for N---- would not quit the
old place to the last. There is something melancholy in viewing a sale
at any time--the disarrangement of the furniture--the cheerless and
chilling aspect of the rooms--the dirt, the bustle, and the heartless
indifference one witnesses to the misfortunes of others--all come home
forcibly to the feelings. After stumbling and striking my shins amongst
piles of chairs, and furniture, and carpets, disposed in lots over the
now comfortless apartments, I at last reached the study door where I had
spent many a happy hour with N----. I entered; the room was stripped of
part of its furniture, the books lying dispersed in heaps over the floor
or on the massive table, at the side of which N---- was seated on the
only chair left in the apartment. He was at first unconscious of my
entrance.