A GAMBLE,IN. LUGGAGE.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 305, 18 September 1908, Page 4

A GAMBLE,IN. LUGGAGE.

SALE OF LOST PROPERTY. SOME IMPRESSIONS. It has been said, at many times, and in many places, that gambling is tho curse of tlio country. So it is. But thero arc degrees, shades, so to speak, of gambling. From a spectacular gamblo on tho turf,;with tho hundred to something chance, when ovon the highly probable eventuality of financial shipwreck is not sufficient t-o cool the blood and temper tho impulse of tho plunger, to a flutter in gladstono bags, is a far cry, but it is gambling all through, for tho motive is tho same —the prospect of obtaining, without physical effort, much for little. Hence it is easy to understand why a salo' of unclaimed property never fails to draw a crowd. It was a very large, and in some respccts a very highly strung, crowd that assembled at the 1' Shed on the Queen's Wharf yesterday afternoon, • when the Harbour Board officials conducted one of' their periodic sales of lost and unclaimed luggage and consigned goods. It was a motley assemblage, as motley as the goods which lay in sundry lots, numbered, on tho top floor of tho shed, to reach which ono had t-o ascend three flights of very narrow and uncomfortably perpendicular steps. Tho auctioneer, having disposed of some heavy goods on tho ground floor —a matter of a few brisk minutes—made his way to 'tho heights aboyo, and, tapping his book encouragingly with bis hammer, waded m, as the Americans say. There was 110 time lost, nor speech wasted, for ho had a lot to do, and little time to do it in. T "Lot 50!" ho called sharply. Lot 50 was an elongated kit-bag, full of promise. How much for this?" he demanded. "Wot is it?" inquired a wharf lumper, dubiously. "A sausage—full-grown," suggested someone, and the sally raised a titter. " Five bob," said a plunger. ' 'Five bob—five—five—sis—six—six— yo done?" Tap went the hammer, and.the purchaser hauled off to tho offing, to see whether tho "sausage" had paid a satisfactory dividend. , Then came a gladstono bag, weatherbeaten and forlorn.

"Three bob," suggested a gambler. The auctioneer eyed him disdainfully. "Don't be extravagant," ho continued satirically. Then someone ventured half-a-soveroign, and the bidding ran up briskly to twenty shillings, when the breeze dropped, and the hammer was about to descend, when "another bob!" piped out from the crowd, and the bag went for a guinea. Trunks, hampers, portmanteaux—articles of mysterious content—fetched fancy prices,' but steamer chairs and other articles which openly confessed their virtues were sold for a mere song. Two really good wicker cka.irs —one a seductive-looking lounge, with rests for the elbows, and receptaclcs for lemonade glasses—were knocked down for twelve shillings. There were the usual interludes and "passages" between the auctioneer, who meant business, and some of the bidders, who threw out. bids "for fun." One of these was caught, and wriggled, unsuccessfully. "Done —at fifteen shillings—you!" said the auctioneer, pointing his hammer unerringly at the last bidder. "Not me," said tho man. "You did —I'll swear you did," said the auctioneer, -with emphasis, pointing his hammer like a revolver at tho would-bo shuffler. "I'll swea.r I didn't," mimicked the victim, but he had to take the goods.