[Dark Saint Alaick]

"Pardonnez-moi, monsieur," said Poopoo, as the auctioneer descended his pedestal, "you
shall excusez-moi, if I shall go to votre bureau, your counting-house, ver quick to make
every ting sure wid respec to de lot vid de valuarble vatare privalege. Von leetle bird in
de hand he vorth two in de tree, c'est vrai--eh?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Vell den, allons."
And the gentlemen repaired to the counting-house, where the six thousand dollars were
paid, and the deeds of the property delivered. Monsieur Poopoo put these carefully in his
pocket, and as he was about taking his leave, the auctioneer made him a present of the
lithographic outline of the lots, which was a very liberal thing on his part, considering the
map was a beautiful specimen of that glorious art. Poopoo could not admire it
sufficiently. There were his sixty lots, as uniform as possible, and his little gray eyes
sparkled like diamonds as they wandered from one end of the spacious sheet to the other.
Poopoo's heart was as light as a feather, and he snapped his fingers in the very
wantonness of joy as he repaired to Delmonico's, and ordered the first good French
dinner that had gladdened his palate since his arrival in America.