"It was summer time--the country at its best--and with the attraction
of an old book, I decided on a day's holiday, and eight o'clock
the next morning found me in the train for C----, and after a
variation in my programme, caused by my having walked three miles
west before I discovered that my destination was three miles
east of the railway station, I arrived at the rectory at noon,
and found assembled some thirty or forty of the neighbouring farmers,
their wives, men-servants and maid-servants, all seemingly bent
on a day's idling, rather than business. The sale was announced
for noon, but it was an hour later before the auctioneer put
in an appearance, and the first operation in which he took part,
and in which he invited my assistance, was to make a hearty
meal of bread and cheese and beer in the rectory kitchen.
This over, the business of the day began by a sundry collection
of pots, pans, and kettles being brought to the competition of
the public, followed by some lots of bedding, etc. The catalogue
gave books as the first part of the sale, and, as three o'clock
was reached, my patience was gone, and I protested to the auctioneer
against his not selling in accordance with his catalogue.
To this he replied that there was not time enough, and that
he would sell the books to-morrow! This was too much for me,
and I suggested that he had broken faith with the buyers,
and had brought me to C---- on a false pretence.
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