OFF THE HIGHWAY.

Dominion, Volume 7, Issue 1885, 20 October 1913, Page 5

OFF THE HIGHWAY.

ft THE AUCTIONEER'S ANTHEM. AND SOME REFRAINS. [BY Herb Mere.] I do not know how many Shields and such-like trophies Wellington City may hold for pre-ominenco in sport, not being well versed in such affairs. But there is ono phase of everyday life in tvliich the Capital City* must be well in the leading position in the Dominion, mid that is in the matter of household auction sales. Hardly a day can pass, that tho auctioneer's red flag, with its white blazoned name-centre, does not Haunt at some residential gate. And this tells a tale of the everchanging naturo of this city's population, due doubtless to a large section whose office in life is ever under tho shadow of a Departmental transfer. Then there are those whom the advertisements state are leaving for Sydney, or more fortunate still, probably, are undertaking a trip Home. And there are others—not so fortunate. Along Tho By-Ways. Of these matters have I become somewhat acquainted through my friend Dorchester. He was "furnishing," and he confided to me that an auction sale was just tho place to pick up tind on<i things necessary to the complete outfit of his Dulce Domum. Would I go with him on occasion, as, said he, two heads were better than one? I agreed. I have since climbed the zig-zag tracks of lloseneath : explored the tortuous terraces of Kelburne; scrambled through the brickfields of Newtown; and been "bushed" in trying to locate dwellings stowed deep down those thread-like tracks to bo found in many parts of the city, where the houses range back in rows from the main thoroughfare. Dorchester has now bought many of the things that he wanted, or thoughthe wanted, and a great many more-be-sides; enough, in truth, to institute a curiosity shop as well. This, however, is the penalty of the. novitiate; a host of Bundries—a real nibble, the auctioneer calls them —going for a song, must bo cleared at any price. The "bargain"seeker steps in; and the possession of a bewilderment of oddments is the result. People You Meet. Fortunately for business there are many who go to the sales with a purchasing penchant, but there are th'oso who just drop in on their way to town "to have a look round" as they express it. , ! "No, my dear," you may hear an elderly lady 6ay to her friend, seated beside her on the Chesterfield couch in the drawing-room, away from the entreating "bid-a-bid-a-bee" of the auctioneer, and the pushing throng in another part of the house, "I didn't come to buy anything, but I iust thought I'd look in. It's so hard to break up a home," she continues, "you never get the same things together again. And they seem to have had , things very nico hero, although those curtains " . Or it may bo an old gentleman, who has ensconced himself in the cosy corner, and, soothed by the sun's warmth, is dosing contentedly, till a heartless acquaintance wakes him up to assure him that "It would tako a lot of that to tiro you." Usually, tho old gentleman does not express any gratitude for tho awakening. Through tho .house of sale, though, there is an ever-tramping throng: where perhaps for years before extreme orderliness and care had been tho rule, the day of dissolution brings its transformation. A topsy-turvy investigation is going on: the treasures of the "best room," hitherto probably strangers to a speck'of dust, are stormed by a regardless bargain-hunting host. "They think," a member of the dealing fraternity is heard to say, as some article is exciting keen competition, "that, because it's an auction, things must be cheap. Why, I've got dozens of those in my place, and I can't get rid of them nohow." A Lament. Perched high on a chair in a corner of tho dining-room, surveying a mass of women's plumed headgear, dotted here and there by a bowler hat, the auctioneer is trying hard to enthuse the bidders. "Now, then, take your hats off to the next lot —No. 200—upright grand piano —cost 80 guineas—only been in use a few months; splendid tone, walnut case, all latest improvements—now, what offer? Ten guineas? Twenty!—that's not much better. Now, that instrument is every bit, if not better, than the , but just because it's a , all I'm offered for it is twenty guineas.' Go to the shop, and you thinlc you're getting a bargain when you pay sixtyfive guineas for a , or other sflch piano. I'wish there was someone hore to play us a tune," and he looks'pleadingly around. "Thirty guineas—not half its value. Why, at Kelburne the other day wo sold a similar piano for fifty-five guineas, and here, because it's Street, I can only get thirty guineas. Next lot, Sam." Truly, according to the locality of the sale, are tho values more or less golden. Something of Art. Pictures are too often a drug on the market. Gems of quiet artistic merit get not a semblance of the attention that highly-coloured prints, and Gibson girl copies sometimes do. "Let them see that picture, Ben! Fine oil-painting—'S.S. Mararoa Entering the Heads.' " The knight of tho hammer pauses, and then —"Wotice tho cloud effects;; why, you can almost see, so real is it, the steamer's forefoot rising to tho wave. Five shillings ? Now, I didn't say it was done by a housepainter to cover up a hole in the wallpaper! No, ladies, that's a work of art." But the ladies failed to see it in that ligh't. Every painting or print of inlet or sound that is put up is invariably designated "Milford Sound," while from the number of auctioneer-described "Mary Anderson's," that beauteous actress, one is led to think, must have been the only one of the fair sex to have been vain enough tq pose for a picture. An Interlude—Not Musical. The auctioneer is a persevering person ; generally of exemplary patienee. But there is a limit even to his endurance as a Thorndon sale showed, tho other day. Little Tommy had accompanied his mother to the fair, and he was a lad like quicksilver. All over th'; placo, till a rocking-chair attracted his energy. Then he jammed his fingers between the rockers, and tho creaking of the chair gave placo to a sustained shriek, which took on volume as liis mother spanked him for "not behaviug" himself. The auctioneer stopped: he simply had to, becauso Tommy had strong lungs. At last the salesman could make himself hoard. "Madame, must I postpone the sale, or will you remove that boy?" Madame glared a momentary defiance, and, as the Parliamentary news has it, tho atmosphere had become electric, when Tommy saved tho situation by a sudden stoppage of the squall. Curios—and Christie's. "Let mo have a look at that vase" ; the auctioneer assumes an excited expression. The ornament is of china, and ljn minutely exdmuwa it., Then ho' becomes confidential, "Now, I'm

going to bid for that. 1 don't mind telling you that's very rare old English china, and how it got hero I can't guess. Now, 1 know a man who'd give any money for that, Send it to Christie's, and there's a small fortune 111 it. What offer? Two bob? Two, two, two, .two— —" and lie < forthwith knocks it down; indeed visionary to him has been the vast value of the vnse. Occasionally some real curios crop up, but curio-hunters are few. A man j with a stubbly beard and a green tio paid eightecnpence the other day for some Indian bows and arrows. He was !- in need, he said, of a few sticks for his it peas. A braeo of ancient battleaxes n j l ® would not look at, as they didn't U "foight wid dem t'ings" in his country, ami besides lie had a chopper for breaicing the firewood 1 - d "Aft Cang Agleyl" t "I'll just put those in my pocket," said the successful . bidder for somo •_ small articles, "'cos things have a L . peculiar way of taking legs to tlieniii selves tlieso days and walking." It 0 is a sad but truo fact, tho auctioneer's v assistant will assure you, that the un- ■. considered trifle lias a mysterious habit ■ t of disappearing. "I'd advise you, sir, o to take it with you now if you want e ' to see it again." And then ho proceeds to tack a small mat t-o .tho wall so that there will be no excuse for anyone lifting it unlawfully. !' Finis. ® Certainly there is much to be learned , at auction sales, but sinco I accompanied Dorchester to a sale round Orien- , tal Bay " way I have declared my education complete. We got there as tho J throng was stampeding after the auctioneer into the sitting-room. Surrounded by the latest spring fashions I was swept along into tho room. Ij Tighter became the packing. n "Come along inside, ladies," still called the auctioneer from tho security of 0 a seat behind tho piano. They came f inside. Into a space for forty people . one hundred were trying to squeeze. Then a woman in the centre of tho j room, who had a youngster that was , plaintively piping-up—and no wonder — wanted to get out. And so did I. But tho scrummage at the doorway was , still surging in to tho tunc of the aucj tioneer's song—"Thero's plenty of room inside." Suddenly my coat was violently tugged. "Why don't you lot the woman out ?" ' f It was an athletic-looking damo of i broad proportions who spoke, and in angry tones. I mildly protested that I would be only too pleased to do so, and go myself at the same time. "Give them a push, then!" said she. 0 And at that she gavo me a shove. Breathless and hatless I was forced 0 through the doorway. 1 A rest on the balcony, with its fine view of the harbour, revived me. There were others who wore for the nonce , taking the air there: one may not have been on the Jones's visiting-list, but ; even if it was for one day only, it was a change to be ablo to see things from 1 flicir point of view. ' I I did not try to discover Dorchester, j. and I have not seen him since. But - if ho wants me to go to any more auc- ; tion sales our friendship is at an end. I am now convinced that the lady I j heard exclaim with much meaning: "Fancy, to a sale!" was quite right.