“He ain’t wuth his victuals,” said an oily little tavern-keeper, folding his arms restfully over his own stomach and cocking up one piggish eye into his neighbor’s face.  “He ain’t wuth his ’taters.”

“Buy ’im foh ’is rags!” cried a young law student, with a Blackstone under his arm, to the town rag picker opposite, who was unconsciously ogling the vagrant’s apparel.

“I might buy ’im foh ’is scalp,” drawled a farmer, who had taken part in all kinds of scalp contests, and was now known to be busily engaged in collecting crow scalps for a match soon to come off between two rival counties.

“I think I’ll buy ’im foh a hat sign,” said a manufacturer of ten-dollar Castor and Rhorum hats.  This sally drew merry attention to the vagrant’s hat, and the merchant felt rewarded.

“You’d bettah say the town ought to buy ‘im an’ put ’im up on top of the cou’t-house as a scarecrow foh the cholera,” said some one else.

“What news of the cholera did the stage coach bring this mohning?” quickly inquired his neighbor in his ear; and the two immediately fell into low, grave talk, forgot the auction, and turned away.

“Stop, gentlemen, stop!” cried the sheriff, who had watched the rising tide of good humor, and now saw his chance to float in on it with spreading sails.  “You’re runnin’ the price in the wrong direction—­down, not up.  The law requires that he be sole to the highes’ biddah, not the lowes’.  As loyal citizens, uphole the constitution of the commonwealth of Kentucky an’ make me an offah; the man is really a great bargain.  In the first place, he would cos’ his ownah little or nothin’, because, as you see, he keeps himself in cigahs an’ clo’es; then, his main article of diet is whisky—­a supply of which he always has on ban’.  He don’t even need a bed, foh you know he sleeps jus’ as well on any doohstep; noh a chair, foh he prefers to sit roun’ on the curbstones.  Remembah, too, gentlemen, that ole King Sol’mon is a Virginian—­from the same neighbohhood as Mr. Clay.  Remembah that he is well educated, that he is an awful Whig, an’ that he has smoked mo’ of the stumps of Mr. Clay’s cigahs than any other man in existence.  If you don’t b’lieve me, gentlemen, yondah goes Mr. Clay now; call him ovah an’ ask ’im foh yo’se’ves.”

He paused, and pointed with his right forefinger towards Main Street, along which the spectators, with a sudden craning of necks, beheld the familiar figure of the passing statesman.

“But you don’t need anybody to tell these fac’s, gentlemen,” he continued.  “You merely need to be reminded that ole King Sol’mon is no ohdinary man.  Mo’ovah he has a kine heaht; he nevah spoke a rough wohd to anybody in this worl’, an’ he is as proud as Tecumseh of his good name an’ charactah.  An’, gentlemen,” he added, bridling with an air of mock gallantry and laying a hand on his heart, “if anythin’ fu’thah is required