Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1868-1875, 1871-02-26
SALE OF DEAD LETTERS
The Odd Sort OF Things People Send
Through the Mails Lively Pas
sages I'm q Washington Auction
House. la -.a| otFtr aAsfrA sfsE {

The Odd Sort OF Things People Send
Through the Mails - Lively Pas.
sages I'm q Washington Auction
House. -ta| otTtT P1ss7A ear
Correspondence OF the Cincinnati Commercial
WASHINGTON, Feb. 13.-While walking
along Ninth street the other night, OBJ
served red Transparency, with white
letters upon it, to the effect that an auc-
ton of dead letters was going on. This
seemed to be such curious business thai
/ entered the low, dingy room, half com
mission store and half auction mart, such
as these gentlemen of the mallet most
affect. / found under the dim, Sinking
gas that pervsdes the National Capital,
a motley crowd of clerks, boarding house
keepers, strangers, Tishmen, and few
negroes. On q counter, with his head
almost touching the ceiling, was blear-
eyed, bald-headed man, who seemed to
be in perpetual state of influenza, SELL
ing the articles enumerated by the cata-
logue, in a slow, sleepy way, that seemed
greatly to aggravate his audience.
l stood looking on for nearly half an
hour, and was struck with the odd sort of
things people send through the mails.
They were mostly tokens of affection, in
some shape or other, and ran from pair
of suspenders to pair of breeches. The
amount of baby stuff was really sstonish-
ing. As the rude auctioneer held up each
article in the dim light, and coarsely cried
it off, l could not help but think of the
fingers that had worked, and the heart
that had throbbed over the token of affec-
ton, and remembered that it had failed
of its destination, ~and now was being sold
for filthy lucre to this motley crowd
Two-thirds of these evidences of remem-
bering love came from women. The fact
is, during my stay, did not see one that
could be positively ascribed to man.
To womaR's busy fingers, and to a wo-
mans heart, could the work be attributed,
and also to woman's ignorance or care
lessness, probably, in addressing, Is due
the fact that the work miscarried.
How many were dead to whose remem-
brance these little things appealed | How
many were scattered in the worlds wide
ways, never to be heard of again by
those who reached out from their hearts
for loving recognitionl Each memento
told its story-an old, old story, perhaps,
but yet touching one. l saw a child's
shoe-a little half-worn bit of furnished
morocco, sent, probably, from the coffin
of the little three year-old to some grand
mother, to tell, in mute eloquence, that
the busy little feet were quiet now forever.
What small, worthless thing, and yet
large enough to carry the grief of bro
ken hearts and fearful memory that can
never die. And it had miscarried, and
was now tossed aside by the rough auc-
tioneer, appealing to a rougher crowd.
The crowd was In an uprorious humor,
decidedly hilarious over the event, and
chafed the suctioneer, who, in turn, re-
piled in the liveliest manner for one in
such chronic state of cold. There was
an Irishman who bid q quarter of dol
lar for everything. He never bid any
more, but the moment an article made
its appearance, he cried, '1'll give We q
quarther for it now." And, like all repe-
iitions, this came to be funny after time.
At last the autioneer produced about two
yards of dismal colored stuff, when the
as usual, bid a quarter. Be-
fore any one else could add a bid, the
auctioneer knocked it down and tossed it
over to our Hibe-nian friend, saying:
''There, Paddy, take that for your quar-
ter, and quit bidding" The Irishman
caught the stuff, looked at it second,
and then exclaimed:
''Be jabers, an 1 thought it was silk. "
81 told you it was Alabama wool, you
bog trotter."
'tAnd did your mother ever believe any
hing you told9"
"No, but my father did,"
ooh, be jabers, but it was the father
of lies, you know"
This last remark, touching the pattern
ty of the unhappy auctioneer, brought
10 wn the house in roars of laughter, and
Paddy went on bidding his quarter for
that came with great eclot.
At last the suctioneer unrolled a half
lozen silver spoons.
Snow gentlemen, he said, 81 don't
Know whether these are silver or not"
'Pass them down and let US look for
cried several in the crowd.
'sDon't you do it." earnestly cried an
Did fellow, who, up to that time, seemed
o have been half asleep, 'Don't you do
t; Ben. Butler may be about"
This brought out q other laugh, which
vas increased when the auctioneer turned
and said gravely, mo, gentlemen, am
for this property"
This reference to the spoons is favor
tie joke of the crowd, suppose, all over
he United States, and it is more espe-
oecially so in Washington.
'ENow, ladies and gentlemen, l offer
you valuable lot, Nos. 81 and 81. Here
Is the pocket book of lobby agent sent
% a member of Congress; here is ring
'eturned to her lover by blighted maiden,
who married mail contractor and died
Of a broken heart; here is silk bandsnna
Iou can wipe your eyes with while weep
ng over the blighted maiden; to this l add
he magic wash to remove stains"
"Will it take the dirt out of Porter2"
aid one.
cor the spots out of Butler charscterS"
asked another.
cor fraud out of Billy McGarrahan9"
demanded a third.
eyes, gentlemen, and the bad taste out
IF Your dirty mouths after this black
guarding. How much2"
81 bid aquarther, said the irrepressible
Pat.
"1'd like to knock you down instead of
he lot that will knock down to the next
bidder
And so the valuable lot went for the
sum of thirty cents cash.
slim, get me a glass of ale; this is dry
said the eloquent man of the
nallet to an assistant. The ale was pro-
cured, and as it went down his throat,
1ne of the crowd cried, "Going, going,
going" and as the last drop disappeared,
shouted, "Gone." The auctioneer set
1own the glass, and after the laugh sub
'ided, asked gravely, "Who said gone"
No one responded, and he continued,
IF the gentleman who cried Gone will
call at the postOff1ce tomorrow, with the
necessary aff1davits, he will hear"
"All about the Chorpenning case," in-
corrupted shrill voice.
l left while the crowd was yet laughing,
and the suctioneer looking about him as
f in search of brick or boot-jsck to
throw at the offender. D..
AN EXTINCT FAMILY.