ning dress, "but your bid
is plainly for what the students in medical colleges call a 'subject.'
Now, I expressly disclaimed any intention of terminating my material
existence at any fixed period in the future. On the contrary, it is for
the purpose of prolonging my life that I am driven to this
extraordinary procedure. It is myself, my talents, and my services of
which I desire to dispose. My skull, in which you seem to take such an
interest, goes, of course, with the bargain. But I do not guarantee
immediate delivery."

"Your services," sneered the student of medicine. "May I inquire into
their nature and nominal cash valuation?"

"I am an experienced leader of the cotillon," answered the young man in
evening clothes, with a sweet and serious dignity.

"Umph!"

"I play a fair hand at Bridge, and have an unexceptionable eye for
matching worsteds."

"G-r-r!"

"That about sums up my list of accomplishments, but I dare say that I
could learn to dig, for I have my full complement of limbs. Finally, a
rare and pretty talent for losing money and a penchant for the unlucky
side of everything."

"Well, gentlemen," declared the student of medicine, with a snort,
"it's quite evident that we're all playing the fool together. I wish
you a very good-evening, and the devil take all crawfishers." And with
that he marched off, evidently in high dudgeon. A little ripple of
laughter swept over the upturned faces of the crowd. "One dollar,"
repeated the young man, his voice full of a polite weariness. "Do I
hear no other bid? I offer myself, a human chattel, at absolute sale;
no reservations; warranted sound and kind; no objection to the country;
not afraid of the Elevated railway."

"Five dollars," said a voice at the rear, and a short, stout man, with
little, black, beadlike eyes, held up his hand to identify his bid.
"Joe Bardi," said a man to his neighbor. Both turned interestedly.

"And who is Joe Bardi?" inquired Indiman, blandly.

"Business of shipping sailors. There's big money in it, they say."

"Ah, yes, a crimp--isn't that what they call them?"

"Right you are, mister. A hard one, too. It'll be a sharp man that does
for old Joe Bardi."

"Five dollars," came again from the squat figure with its ratlike eyes,
and the young man in evening dress paled a little. He had over-heard
the colloquy between Indiman and the native Abingdonian, and it is
difficult to regard with equanimity the prospect of a trip before the