SELLING STOCK.

Otago Witness, Issue 2812, 5 February 1908, Page 15

SELLING STOCK.

AUCTIONEER'S RHETORIC. By H. J. A. it is the regular -stock sale, and there Is a fair entry. Most of the pens are already full, and the remainder are rapidly receiving their occupants from the drafting yard; where the mobs are placed on their arrival. A miscellaneous mob of cattle has just been driven in, and the men, with long poles, are busily engaged separating them into different lines and driving them into various pens. Stores, fat cattle, calves — all are there, and have to be divided into their respective lines. Long manuka poles fall heavily across the noses of the frightened beasts ; they wheel and snort in terror; a little quiet work, a few welldirected blows, and those picked out clash down the paved run-way. The remainder make a step forward to follow, but those poles persuade them otherwise, and they retreat sullenly to a corner and gaze after their departing comrades. The big gate clangs to, but another is opened, and again the long poles fall to work. This time it is the calves that are wanted. These are standing in a bunch, and it is easy work to start them on the run down the lengthy passage. And again a division is made ; and another ; and finally the mob is separated and penned under the different categories. .In the pens the calves blare, the mothers bellow agonisedly, and two bulls in opposing divisions roar ragingly at each other.' The store bullocks are quieter. They are phlegmatic, heavy, dull-witted. Some sink to the ground, and with closed eyes ignore the surrounding confusion in animal enjoyment of the drowsy heat. From the pens on the right penetrates above the roaring of the cattle the thm baaing' of the sheep, and from the bottom of the yard the shrill squealing of handled pigs ascends piercingly. Scattered round the pens are groups of farmers, stock hands, idlers, auctioneers, auctioneers' clerks, and, most important of all, the calculating buyers from the city butcheries. The latter move round poking and prying, noting and estimating. There is not a great deal of talk, but what there is is of stock, incessantly of stock. The entry is just a trifle below the average, and, correspondingly, competition will be keen. Some half-dozen firms are selling. Each is indicated A, B, C, etc., and lots are drawn for order of priority. "B " has drawn, and will commence the sale ; the others will follow in due order, "A" being last. Above the sheep pens a red flag flutters. Here the sale will start. Presently the bellman's clanging note is heard, the auctioneer rises on the head of the pen, the crowd rolls together, and a. strident voice spreads far and wide. This is a pen of fattened wethers — a good line. The sheep crowd together in a solid mass in the corner. Prospective buyers enter the pen, force their way, and examine the condition of the animals, and even, mayhap, seize one and force open its mouth to note the teeth. Routed from their corner, the sheep are milling and turning m wild confusion ; they are harried Irom point to point ; they have no peace; they are chattels. But despite the cajoling oratory of the auctioneer the bidding does not become brisk. Some are hanging off to see the run of prices, while others prefer waiting for future lines ; but the auctioneer is a man of patience, notwithstanding his appearance of headlong hurry, and at length tne bids rise to 14s 9d — not a big price, — beyond which they will not go, and at -this figure the pen is knocked down. For the next lot keener competition is assured. There are 30 wethers and a few ewes, and they come from a station with a big reputation for quality. The ewes are put up separately — they are distinguished by a glaring blue dash of dye on the back, — and the bidding starts set once at 17s. This is immediately- jumped up to 17s 3d, and suns up by similar rises till it reaches 19s 9d. Here there is a pause. So far three or four have been competing, and now they pause to again estimate the worth of the sheep. The auctioneer is not satisfied with this amount (19s 9d), creditable as it is. He . knows his men, and keeps his tongue wagging to give them time. And it comes — " £1." The auctioneer turns to a previotis bidder inquiringly ; he nods : "one three it is; I'm bid one three." and he looks to the bidder against whom the j offer has gone ; and again the price goes I up. This is good. This is competition, j Interest quickens in the circle. Yv ho ■wants them most? is the question. Again is the performance repeated, and the price is now £1 Is. And here it sticks. More cannot be got, and the lot goes at the~ price. The accompan><ig wethers also have a good run. A city butcher, a good man at a bargain, sets the pace and takes the price to £1, but is bettered by another butcher. He thinks again, decides they are worth it, "nods his head, and in a minute the wethers are his, no one going above him. Auctioneering is in itself somewhat of an art. A successful auctioneer must be of an intuitive quickness; he must note at a glance the selling points of his line, must bring these oat, must enlarge upon them, hang contrasts on them, flutter them before the eyes of his buyers ; he must shrewdly know how much random ■oratory is allowable or necessary for the sale of that line, must say enough without saying too much, and, above all, must liave an eagle eye to pounce upon anyone' showing the slightest inclination to bid, must show him he absolutely needs that • article, and the chances are he will think he does: The auctioneer soon learns those amongst the crowd who have come ' for business and those whose purpose is merely curiosity or perhaps a random bid. To those there £or business he appeals €ime and again. He addresses the crowd personally — generalities are of no use. SEe says, " Yflfi want this thing/ and not

" People want this." He must have the attention of the individual. He plays off upon his audience some little joke to keep them in humour when he sees a patron cogitating about a price ; he sets off against each other two spirited bidders, brings forward the element ot competition, and, having fanned the flame, can usually run the price to a figure eminently satisfactory — to the seller ! He must develop his persuasive powers to the utmost, niust, metaphorically, kiss the blarney stone — be able to wheedle, to coax, to entice, must exhort, cajole, expostulate. Pen after pen pass iinder the hammer at prices varyingly satisfactory. Auctions at times are funny things, fickle as the public themselves. * Of three pens of sheep from the same station and of similar quality it would hardly be expected that the prices would vary to the extent of two shillings and two shillings and sixpence. Yet they do. After the sheep are all disposed of. the tar pols are in requisition for branding purpose^; which done, each pairchaser, if he desires 'it, musters his lots and ai-ranges for their departure. And then is seen the wonderful intelligence of the sheep dog. It handles a mob of sheep with an amazing degree of sagacity. It wheels them with ease, puts them to a run with a bark, and generally indicates that it knows its business and needs but little guidance. The bellman now rings his way to the cattle pens. Most of the beasts hfive settled into somnolent quiet, and lie on the hot stone floor in lazy repose. Some of the more tuibulent spirits still twist and turn, and occasionally send forth a challenging roar in protest at the restricting confinement ; and the calves still blare piteously in answer to the frantic clamour of the cows for their abducted offspring. Store bullocks are put up first. Three fine beasts, just off the turnips, are knocked down at £10 apiece, which figure, confides a grizzled farmer, is just ±Jl a head too much. Other pens follow. The long poles are at work stirring up the poor brutes, making them rotate and turn before the eyes of the peering purchasers. A whole line ot pens is gone, and the auctioneer's thioat is husky. Another firm takes up the selling ; the crowd gathers strength, and buyers make cool, calculating bids. In this pen stands a great roan-coloured bull. The auctioneer's supply of adjectives is insufficient to meet the demand. " A fine big bull. Plainly there is a struggle in his mind for further adjectival comment, but, under the necessity of keeping up a running talk, these further eulogies cannot be brought to the surface. Additional emphasis must be derived from the intonation of the voice. " A f-i-n-e big bull," a full rich "fine." The bidding starts at £3! The occupant of the pen droops his head in shame. He, the epitome of massive strength, with a hide of royal roan, with kingly dignity>-in every ripple of muscle covering his elephantine bulk, is valued at £3 ! His broad neck bends low, he stands submissively quiet, the poles are mercifully still. He is a pedigree bull ; the auctioneer waves round a closely written sheet containing the names of his ancestry. The man's eloquence and energy increase the interest ; bids are made, and the price creeps gradually to £4 12s 6d. -And nothing more will come ; the king of the herd is worth less than a mere working bullock ! Is this another recognition of the- divine usefulness of labour?

There remain but the pig-pens, and round these cluster the daffy farmers — aye, and good old" country wives, too, bidding with the best of them. Here the auctioneer waxes a trifle facetious, works off a few well-worn jokes, elaborates on the merits of tile little piggies, tells their virtues by the colour of their hides, the twist of their tail, and the audience, if keen, is humorous, and the bids are active. Here is much the brightesl part of the yard. '• The support of Ireland " possesses himself a streak of humour and lends Tiimself readily as a fit subject for the display of that quality in the nobler race. Close by stand varied vehicles ready for the transportation of baby pls;s to fat country farms, there to be killed with kindness, fattened for an unworthy object. The initial transportation from the pen to a cart involves many a ludicrous scene. Tiiere is contained, perhaps, in a six-weeks-old pig as much devilment as can be found in any domesticated creature of the same age. By his very sleekness he has a pecular advantage when dealing with his would-be captors. And he is a cunning brute withal. When caught, not infrequently he lulls his captor to a false sense of security by his innocent quietude, and on a favourable opportunity makes a bold bid for freedom. A portly farmer, it must be admitted, does not present the most dignified appearance when, in the act of conveying his purchase to his cart, a playful gust of wind gathers his hat in its embrace and invites him to a game of " Catch-me-if-you-can " ;' and it is precisely at that moment, when the farmer feels .his hat departing, and, from having both hands full, is unable to grasp it, that the piggy decides to follow suit ; and were it not that the farmer is fully cognisant of the fact that a pis; in the hand is worth more than an old hat up the yard, and hangs on with all his might, the wily pig might gain his desired freedom.

With the last of the pigs the auction is over, and those who have followed the sale right through In defiance of the savoury smell from the adjoining inn now hasten to square accounts with the inner man.

A resident of Hobart, who is evidently desirous of obtaining a little legal advice without paying the customary fees, has addressed a letter to the Atorney-geenral of Victoria, in -which he says:— "l have money in South America which I find it difficult to obtain. Is there any way by which I can recover the money, about £1400?" "Perhaps," remarked Mr Davies, when telling of the receipt of the letter, "■I ought to refer the writer to "Mr W**-^ dore Roo««veX***