“That’s the best part of it. It is a splendid bargain. It didn’t cost a cent less than a hundred dollars. Now, what do you think I got it for?” “Sixty dollars?” “Guess again.” “Fifty?” “Guess again.” “Forty-five?” “No. Try again.” “But what _did_ you give for it, dear?” “Why, only twenty dollars!” “Well, now, that is a bargain.” “Ain’t it, though? It takes me to get things cheap,” continued the prudent Mr Courtland, chuckling with delight. “Why, how in the world did it go off so low?” “I managed that. It ain’t every one that understands how to do these things.” “But how did you manage it, dear? I should like to know.” “Why, you see, there were a great many other things there, and among the rest some dirty carpets. Before the sale I pulled over these carpets and threw them upon the sofa; a good deal of dust fell from them, and made the sofa look fifty per cent. worse than it really was. When the sale commenced, there happened to be but few persons there, and I asked the auctioneer to sell the sofa first, as I wanted to go, and would bid for it if it were sold then. Few persons bid freely at the opening of a sale. ‘What’s bid for this splendid sofa?’ he began. ‘I’ll give you fifteen dollars for it,’ said I; ‘it’s not worth more than that, for it’s dreadfully abused.’ ‘Fifteen dollars! fifteen dollars! only fifteen dollars for this beautiful sofa!’ he went on; and a man next to me bid seventeen dollars. I let the auctioneer cry the last bid for a few minutes, until I saw he was likely to knock it down. ‘Twenty dollars!’ said I, ‘and that’s as much as I’ll go for it.’ The other bidder was deceived by this as to the real value of the sofa, for it did look dreadfully disfigured by the dust and dirt, and consequently the sofa was knocked off to me.” “That was admirably done, indeed!” said Mrs Courtland, with a bland smile of satisfaction at having obtained the elegant piece of furniture at so cheap a rate. “And it’s so near a match, too, for the sofa in our front parlour.” This scene occurred at the residence of a merchant in this city, who was beginning to count his fifty thousands. Let us look at the other side of the picture. On the day previous to this sale, a widow lady with one daughter, a beautiful and interesting girl about seventeen, were seated on a sofa in a neatly furnished parlour in Hudson-street. The mother held in her hand a small piece of paper, on which her eyes were intently fixed; but it could readily be perceived that she saw not the characters that were written upon it. “What is to be done, ma?” at length asked the daughter. “Indeed, my child, I cannot tell. The bill is fifty dollars, and has been due, you know, for several days. I haven’t got five dollars, and your bill for teaching the Miss Leonards cannot be presented for two weeks, and then it will not amount to this sum.” “Can’t we sell something more, ma?” suggested the daughter.