When the last had been called, he said,-- "Where's Number 2222 ?" "Ah, to be sure, that's the one," said the pawnbroker, reaching up to where I lay, and taking me down; "this one.

I'd forgotten all about him." Flattering, certainly! and still more so when the auctioneer, surveying my tarnished and dingy appearance, said, "Well, he's not much of a show after all.

You'd better rub him up a bit, or we shan't get him off hand at all." "Very good," said the pawnbroker, and I was handed over forthwith to an assistant to be cleaned.

And much I needed it.

My skin was nearly as black as a negro's, and my joints and muscles were perfectly clogged with dust.