Strolling through Pimlico the other day Mrs. R. was attracted by
evidence of a sale by auction going forward in one of the residences in
that desirable quarter. Having half an hour to spare she thought she
would look in. "I was quite surprised," she writes to her son, "when I
entered the room to see a gentleman standing in a pulpit which I knew
was Mr. PIPCHOSE, leastway, his whiskers were not so mutton-choppy;
but I could not mistake him, though meeting him only once at tea at
Mrs. BROWN'S where he was very pressing with the muffins. He looked
at me in just the same meaning way as when he said, 'Mrs. RAM. won't
you take another piece of sugar, though as I know it's carrying coals
to Newcastle?' I'm not above recognising my friends, wherever I meet
them, and gave him a friendly nod, and before I knew where I was, I
found I had bought for £3 9_s._ 6_d._ a wool mattress; a pair of tongs
(rather bent); a barometer (with the quicksilver missing); a small iron
bedstead; a set of tea-things (mostly cracked); an armchair, and a sofa
warranted hair-stuffed, but certainly having only three legs. It wasn't
Mr. PIPCHOSE at all, as I might have known if I had taken another look
at his whiskers, but only a forward auctioneer."
* * * * *
"The Chinese Government," observed the _City Times_ last week, "is
seeking new channels for money." Decidedly China is in straits, and
will soon be apparently quite at sea.
* * * * *