Julia Casey writes:

droned the auctioneer.

No gavel was employed to accentuate the decision.

answered the auctioneer, who was seated on top of a table at one end ofthe rectangular room, with a smiling woman stenographer flanking him on eitherside. After a brief pause he resumed unmoved:

rejoined the bidder, continuing to search through his notes withoutthe least attempt at haste. Finally he found what he looked for and spoke up:

repeated the man seated on the table.

And this was spirited bidding. For the Collector's Club where the public auctionsof rare coins, unmatchable bills, and stamps out of date are held, is the one spotwhere competition, though of the keenest, has been deprived of its sting andbitterness. It is a sort of arena for numismatists, philatelists, archaeologists, andother possessors of costly and full-blooded hobbyhorses.

The great men-the men who can afford to pay for abstract values-rarely appearin person. They all have their representatives employed for this particular service,and these representatives are on familiar terms with each other, meeting week afterweek, now on this and now again on the other side of the ocean-wherever thecoveted rarities are put under the hammer or offered for sale privately. They areeager on behalf of their patrons, but not being hobbyhorse riders themselves, theypractice their rivalry without ever growing hostile over victories or defeats.

Yesterday afternoon they were gathered where Thomas L. Elder was putting upseveral collections of coins, medals, and paper money at auction. There were 852lots in all and they went at prices ranging from 12 cents up to $60. Sometimes thebids advanced a cent at a time, and then again somebody would cooly say:

some other bidder would say with a laugh, and from the jovialauctioneer's lips dropped the perennial:

One man represented more than a score of customers, some of whom wanted someone coin while others were anxious to get anything rare, whether coin or stamp orbill. All were designated by pseudonyms invented to mask their identity, lest rivalagents discover them and supplant the services of the acting representative. Therewas who gobbled up anything and everything, paying fancy priceswithout a protest.

the auctioneer would announce.

the agent would request.

Half a dozen times the bidders and the auctioneer fell into joking until they losttrack of where they were. Then it might happen that they would go back a fewnumbers and sell them over again to make sure that no one was forgotten.

They had got to the section headed &c., and an agentgenerally referred to as had secured at a fabulously cheapprice-$1.70 or something like that-a token catalogued as He was so eager and elatedthat he insisted on having the piece delivered at once. Just as he got it anotheragent, broke in:

pleaded the auctioneer with

replied scratching his head.

grumbled regretfully.

Among the rare pieces that caused the bids to leap upward dollars at a time was aNew Hampshire cent of 1776-a tiny bit of old copper honored in the cataloguewith the epithets and It was knocked down at $60.50 and thebuyer of it looked as if he had won a free pass to Paradise.

A United States silver dollar minted in 1794 brought $62.50, although defective,and the catalogue said that but for its defect it would have been cheap at $175.

In comparison it seemed to the outsider that a good thing was almost given awaywhen an Egyptian from 260 B.C. went at $58.50. Thirteen dollarsand fifty cents was all that anybody cared to pay for a Roman gold coin that wasseventeen cycles old and was adorned with a of Antonius. One ofUncle Sam's one-dollar pieces of gold but forty years old brought $21, and $25was paid for a half-cent piece of 1841 that was dented on the edge, which thecatalogue said was

All, in all, the sale realized about $2,500.

To read the complete article, see:
Catalogue of first public auction sale of coins, medals, and paper money. [09/30/1905](https://archive.org/details/catalogueoffirst00elde/)