[Dark Saint Alaick]

"My friend," said the farmer, "this section of Long Island has recently been bought up by
the speculators of New York, and laid out for a great city; but the principal street is only
visible at low tide. When this part of the East River is filled up, it will be just there. Your
lots, as you will perceive, are beyond it; and are now all under water."
At first the Frenchman was incredulous. He could not believe his senses. As the facts,
however, gradually broke upon him, he shut one eye, squinted obliquely at the heavens---
the river--the farmer--and then he turned away and squinted at them all over again! There
was his purchase sure enough; but then it could not be perceived for there was a river
flowing over it! He drew a box from his waistcoat pocket, opened it, with an emphatic
knock upon the lid, took a pinch of snuff and restored it to his waistcoat pocket as before.
Poopoo was evidently in trouble, having "thoughts which often lie too deep for tears";
and, as his grief was also too big for words, he untied his horse, jumped into his gig, and
returned to the auctioneer in hot haste.
It was near night when he arrived at the auction-room--his horse in a foam and himself in
a fury. The auctioneer was leaning back in his chair, with his legs stuck out of a low
window, quietly smoking a cigar after the labors of the day, and humming the music from
the last new opera.