We, more modest, grasp but at outlines of characters which may be seen daily by everybody, and which with pen and pencil we will endeavour to delineate. The subject of our present paper is very common, but very mysterious: his living is a fact; but the how, the when, and the where, the mystery. Look upon him, jaunty even in his rags, hugging himself in the belief that the rent under his arm and the patch on his shoe are not seen, and that his patent ink reviver shows not his rusty brown. His hands are gloved; but his finger-tops, ragged, and open to the winds, he endeavours to hide by burying them in his palms. His stick, too, his constant companion, -he fancies gives him an air of respectability. Being perfectly innocent of anything in the shape of a great-coat, he laughs most contemptuously at the effeminacy of those who coddle and muffle themselves up; and discourses most eloquently of good and refreshing breezes, which he eulogises as better than all the broad-cloth in the world. He is frequently in wet and chilly days seen, apparently waiting for a friend, near the fires of public-offices (where they do keep fires). Speak to him, and you find that his manners are gentlemanly, his language classic and correct; and, if your manner towards him be deprived of all pretension to superiority by reason of your well-spun jet-black coat, he forgets his outward man, brightens up, withdraws his glove with the air of a gentleman, takes a pinch from your box, as if his suit was just glossy from Stultz, and talks himself back to the strain of his prouder days; his bow on leaving is perfect, though his fragile hat becomes less so from the polite exertion. See him now, dining in yonder retired public-house; that small screw of paper, hardly large enough for another man's salt, has contained his dinner. Of what?-that is the mystery! He is forgetting himself and his condition in the newspaper; and, under the influence of spirituous liquors, his imagination revels in the idea of the certainty of his becoming principal mover in some splendid achievement. Look upon the small gin measure close to his elbow - there is the mystery! We remember him the gayest of the gay, the kindest of the kind, surrounded by friends, blessed with an amiable wife, and a happy home; but drink-that accursed plaguespot-poisoned all his bliss. He treated it as a joke. He had taken too much-nothing else! The care of a fond wife scared the tempter for a time, or hid its baneful influence from his friends. She died. Causes innumerable were pleaded to himself for seeking temporary oblivion. He walked to the Exchange with a flushed cheek, and unshaven chin; he who was once the neatest man there. His friends lectured him for his neglect, and were soon fearful of, and ultimately declined entrusting business to a man not answerable half his time for his actions. His memory, treacherous in affairs of consequence, soon caused his rapid descent. Still friendly hands grasped his; friendly purses opened, until the most attached saw the futility of rendering further assistance. For a time he contrived to live upon scanty earnings by arranging accounts, balances, books, &c., till at last the resources obtained by these means were, through the fascinating destroyer, entirely stopped up.

One bitter night a person was shown into my room. A shivering object, addressing me by name, startled me by showing something like the features of my old friend. A few months only had elapsed since I last beheld him; yet his pale pinched features and glossy eye seemed to be the work of years. He apologised for troubling me; but begged to show me some specimens of paper and pens, which he drew from an

old blue bag, saying he travelled on commission for a stationer (an old friend), who had trusted him with these samples. I told him to be seated, regretting that I could not give him an order for things supplied regularly by my own stationer.

"My good friend," said he, feeling in his tattered waistcoat pocket, and producing a single halfpenny, I have walked all day with only that in my pocket. I have come two miles out of the way, with the hope that you would assist me."

I did so; but of what avail? I only gave him the power of sooner destroying himself.

Our next meeting was more extraordinary. I was sitting in an omnibus, close to the door, when a hand was thrust into the window with a small packet of polished cards, with steel engravings, and a voice in the most bland tone recommending the wares in the following style :—

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you allow me to present to your notice a wonder even in this day of wonders? These cards, in themselves gems of art, represent the Houses of Parliament, St. James's Palace, the residence of her most gracious Majesty, the new Royal Exchange, and the statues of our glorious victors, both naval and military. You have no need, I assure you, now to travel far for wonders, when you can take these home at a penny each! Ladies, buy the residence of your Queen, who so well represents your amiable sex on the throne ; we are governed by a woman, and who—”

Here his eloquence was cut short by the brown paw of the conductor grasping the window-ledge, and exclaiming in a rough voice, "Now, lushy Jim, come off the step; our time's up, so mizzle!" He shuffled away; but the voice could not be mistaken,-it was that of my unfortunate friend.

Passing up Fleet Street one wretched night, I beheld him fighting his way through a host of sturdy young fellows, to gain the door of a newspaper-office, to which there was a tremendous rush to get some second edition, his white hair streaming about his face as he anxiously looked round for a chance to obtain an entrance thither, whither, doubtless, as a newspaper runner, he had been dispatched for some paltry remuneration. He fought fiercely, for his darling bane would be the reward of his exertions. I stood for a moment in pity, remembering what he was, when one of the roystering boys, upon whom he pressed in his excitement, struck his tattered hat over his eyes. I turned sorrowfully away as I heard the boisterous mirth proceeding from the crowd at this exploit.

The great mystery of this man's present life is, that he lives from halfpenny to halfpenny day after day, appearing the same half-ragged object, but with a bearing as if his eye were stone-blind to his outward appearance. The gentlemanly demeanour, when sober, is natural; when intoxicated, brutal and unnatural as the excitement that causes it. Often have I seen him late at night crawling along, and talking to himself in a light and joyous tone, as if addressing persons about him in the solitary street. Perhaps the demon he worships transports him back to the scenes of his former happiness, in which he revels for the time, unconscious of his debasement, awaking only to the truth upon some cold door-step. Is it to be wondered at that he rushes back, when he has the means, into the embraces of his destroyer?

This man is only one of a large class who enter the fascinating ring from all quarters, high and low. Every day do we mysteriously miss some one; but soon another poor wretch starts up in his place, to toil for the few crumbs that were his portion. Where does he die-in the streets? No one knows him! He has outlived all friendship; or, perhaps, entering the workhouse, lays down his staff, losing for ever in the mass of wretchedness all traces where he lingered out the last remnant of his existence.

P