50 The Mysterious Tailor : [Juny, 
terns, in every stage of existence—from the first crude conception of the 
incipient surtout or pantaloons, down to the last glorious touch that 
immortalizes the artist. His figure is slim and undersized ; his cheeks 
sallow, with two furrows on each side his nose, filled not unfrequently 
with snuff; his eyes project like lobsters’, and. cast their shifting 
glances about with a vague sort of mysterious intelligence; and his 
voice—his startling, solemn, unearthly voice—seems hoarse with sepul- 
chral vapours, and puts forth its tones like the sighing of the wind 
among tombs. With regard to his dress, it is in admirable keeping 
‘ with his countenance. He wears a black coat, fashioned in the mould 
of other times, with large cloth buttons and flowing skirts ; drab inex- 
pressibles, fastened at the knee with brass buckles ; gaiters, which, reach- 
ing no higher than the calf of the leg, set up independent claims to 
eccentricity and exact consideration on their own account; creaking, 
square-toed shoes ; and a hat, broad in front, pinched up at the sides, 
verging to an angle behind, and worn close over the forehead, with the 
lower part resting on the nose. His manner is equally peculiar: it can- 
not be called vulgar, nor yet genteel—for it is too passive for the one, 
and too pompous for the other; it forms, say, a sort of compromise 
between the two, with a slight infusion of pedantry that greatly adds to 
its effect. Altogether, the being I describe is one who, under any cirs 
cumstances, would stand a fair chance of attracting notice ; but this not 
so much from any one prominent peculiarity, as from a general unifor- 
mity in face, figure, and dress: in short, from that harmonious compound 
of quiet reserve, and pertinacity, which forms the finished original. 
On reaching this oddity’s abode, I at once proceeded to business ; and 
was promised, in reply, the execution of my order on the customary 
terms of credit. Thus far is strictly natural. The clothes came home, 
and so, with admirable punctuality, did the bill; but the death of a 
valued friend having withdrawn me, soon afterwards, from London, six 
months élapsed ; at the expiration of which time I was refreshed, as 
agreed on, by a pecuniary application from my tailor. Perhaps I should 
here mention, to the better understanding of my tale, that I am a medi- 
cal practitioner, of somewhat nervous temperament, derived partly from 
inheritance, and partly from an inveterate indulgence of the imagina- 
tion. My income, too—which seldom or never, encumbers a surgeon 
who has-not yet done walking the hospitals—is limited, like the range 
of my Lord Londonderry’s eloquence, and, at this present period, was 
so far contracted as to keep me in continual suspense. In this predica- 
ment, my tailor’s memorandum was any thing but satisfactory. I wrote 
accordingly to entreat his forbearance for six months longer, and, as I 
received no reply, concluded that all was satisfactorily arranged. Un- 
luckily, however, as I was strolling, about a month afterwards, along 
the Strand, I chanced to stumble up against him. ‘The shock seemed 
equally unexpected on both sides ; but my tailor (as being a dun) was 
the first to recover self-possession ; and, with a long preliminary hem !— 
a mute but expressive compound of remonstrance, apology, and. reso- 
lution—opened his fire as follows :— 
“ T believe, Sir, you name is D Py 
“ T believe it is, Sir.” 
« Well, then, Mr. D. , touching that litttle account between us, I 
have to request, Sir, that-——” 
