210

DECAMP AT AN AUCTION.

even rude, presentations of character their cultivated manners and tastes gave point and refine

ment.

DECAMP AT AN AUCTION.

One day, while walking in the Square in Columbia with Mr. DeCamp, our attention was attracted by a group of persons gathered around an auctioneer, who was displaying a placard which announced the sale of the wood and brick material of an old city building, before which he was standing. DeCamp, struck by a reference to the cupola of the building as a fine architectural object for a gentleman's grounds, immediately became interested in the matter, and the following dialogue occurred:

De Camp: "Mr. Auctioneer, will you be kind enough to inform me as to the terms and conditions of this sale?"

Auctioneer: "Certainly, Mr. DeCamp: sixty days' time on an endorsed note, and the materials to be removed in six days from the time of sale." De Camp: "Allow me to ask if the cupola is to be sold separately?"

Auctioneer: "Certainly, Mr. DeCamp. It has special value as a distinct and separate part of the building, having been but recently erected."

De Camp: "Mr. Auctioneer, will you please inform me if it can be removed without injury to the integrity of its structure?"

Auctioneer: "Certainly, Mr. DeCamp. If you procure a careful workman it can be taken down

A POLITE BUSINESS TRANSACTION. 211

without the least damage to its beautiful propor

tions."

De Camp: "Thank you, sir. I will then consider the propriety of becoming a bidder."

Auctioneer: "Thank you, Mr. DeCamp.-Now, gentlemen, as it is the crowning-point of the building, we will begin with it and work downward in the order of demolition. Gentlemen, what am I offered for the cupola? One hundred dollars? Not one hundred dollars? Why, I thought I was about to start it one hundred below its value! Not one hundred dollars? say seventy-five dollars, gentlemen.-Remember, Mr. DeCamp, it can be removed without injuring its beauty as a picturesque object.-Seventy-five dollars? Not seventy-five dollars, gentlemen? What say you, then, to fifty dollars? Where are Where are they?

Then

the lovers of architecture? Well, then, give me twenty-five dollars, and it is positively thrown away."

De Camp: "I will take it at twenty-five, Mr. Auctioneer, if the weathercock goes with it."

Auctioneer: "Yes, Mr. DeCamp, the weathercock, lightning-rod, and cupola.-Did I hear thirty dollars there? Thirty dollars?"

De Camp: "Yes, Mr. Auctioneer, rather than not have it I'll say thirty."

Auctioneer: "Thank you, Mr. DeCamp: the cupola is your property, sir."

Here DeCamp's friends remarked, "Why, you were bidding against yourself, sir!" to which he replied, "But, you see, the weathercock is an ob

212

AN APPROPRIATE MEMORIAL.

ject of interest and of additional value. I intend putting the cupola up as a monument to my dear departed Jane, whose body reposes in the garden of my theatre. The weathercock will serve as an indication of the direction of the winds, and at the same time as a reminder of the fickleness of dear Jane's disposition and the inconstancy of the sex in general."

In a few days the cupola was installed in the garden at the side of the theatre, with a plaster cast of Minerva upon a pedestal in the centre of the circle of pillars supporting it. If my readers will refer to the coat-of-arms of the State of Georgia, a good idea may be formed of the appearance of the memento provided by Mr. DeCamp in honor of his dear departed Jane.

CHAPTER XI.

SKETCH OF A GALAXY OF STARS.

THE theatre in Savannah, Georgia, in 1831 was a very dingy building, both inside and out, large and ill-constructed, situated in a part of the city remote from the centre, poorly lighted, and in a neighborhood very liable to an overflow in wet weather, in consequence of which on rainy nights the theatre presented a meagre account of empty benches.

The manager, Mr. DeCamp, was very fond of a game of cards, especially of what was called "vingt-et-un." The playing was always for picayunes, as the old six-and-a-quarter-cent pieces of the North were called "down South," but, as cash was more than frequently at a premium, grains of corn were used instead, which the players always scrupulously redeemed. DeCamp was an excellent player at this game, and the consequence was that when the weekly pay-day came round he was generally lucky enough to hold "counters" against "accounts current" which lightened his payments, while at the same time the players found their pockets somewhat lighter too. The custom, however, was one "more honored in the breach than in the observance."

214

A GAME OF VINGT-ET-UN.

A SHADOWY PERFORMANCE.

I have a very distinct recollection of a remarkable circumstance that occurred one night during the latter part of the period I have mentioned. The play was George Barnwell, the London Apprentice, and the title rôle was assigned to me. The night in question was disagreeable and sloppy, and when the time arrived for raising the curtain the call-boy came into the green-room and called, "First music over, everybody to begin;" whereupon the prompter observed to the manager, "A shy domus, sir" (the technical phrase for a bad house)—"positively empty, sir." Mr. DeCamp replied in his usually cool and seemingly indifferent manner, "Well, Mr. Hardy, let the call-boy watch the front of the house, and tell us when any one comes into the boxes or pit; and if that interesting event does occur, you may begin the play at that point of time. In the mean while the ladies and gentlemen can amuse themselves with a game of vingt-et-un in the green-room, and by way of variety I'll take a hand myself."

As I had passed much of my early youth among Quakers, and had never learned to play cards, I was only a "looker-on in Vienna." The game was not interrupted until the call-boy announced, "Time to ring curtain down on first act, and nobody come yet." I will here state that the prompter's book contains the time-table of each act in every play, that he may be able to ring