Mr. Jennings,[367] latterly known as Constantine Noel, barring his eccentricities, was an accomplished gentleman, a traveller of infinite taste, and one of the most liberal and entertaining companions imaginable. Mr. Noel’s figure was short, thin, and much bent by age; and he was very singular in his dress. The crown of his hat fitted his head as close as a _pitch-plaster_; his coat was short, of common cloth, and, like Mr. Wodhull’s, regularly buttoned up from his waist to his chin. His stockings were not striped blue and white, like those of Sir Thomas Stepney,[368] but of _pepper-and-salt_ mixture, and of worsted. He stepped astride in consequence of the bowness of his legs, and generally attracted notice by striking his walking-stick hard on the stones with his right arm fully extended, while his left hung swinging low before him. He wore thick-sole shoes, with small buckles, and seldom showed linen beyond the depths of his stock. My father, who knew him well, used to relate the annexed anecdote. Mr. Noel one day, when at the corner of Rathbone Place, close to Wright’s, the intelligent grocer, finding himself rather fatigued, called repeatedly to the first coachman, who, after laughing at him for some time, increased the insult by observing, “A coach, indeed! a coach! who’s to pay for it?” “You rascal,” exclaimed Mr. Noel, clenching his stick in the position of chastisement, “why don’t you come when I call, Sir; I’ll make an example of you, I will.” The coachman continued laughing, till a gentleman accosted Mr. Jennings thus:--“My worthy friend, what is all this about?” The coachman was immediately curbed; and when Mr. Noel’s friend had parted with him, by shaking his hand in the coach, the coachman, touching the front of his hat, wished to know of his _honour_ “_Where to?_” “I’ll give you a pretty dance,” replied Mr. Noel; “drive me to h----, you rascal; to Whitechapel, and from thence to Hyde Park Corner. I’ll take care it shall be long enough before you get any dinner, you rascal, I will.” Then, with a nod and a smile to the assembled crowd, he declared, to their no small amusement, “I’ll punish him.” Dr. Burges, of Mortimer Street, whose singular figure has been etched by Gillray, under which he wrote, “From Warwick Lane,” was one of the last men who wore a cocked-hat and deep ruffles. What rendered his appearance more remarkable, he walked on tiptoe.[369] It was the regular custom of Mr. Alderman Boydell, who was a very early riser, at five o’clock, to go immediately to the pump in Ironmonger Lane. There, after placing his wig upon the ball at the top of it, he used to sluice his head with its water. This well-known and highly respected character,[370] who has done more for the British artists than all the print-publishers put together, was also one of the last men who wore the three-cornered hat commonly called “Egham, Staines, and Windsor.”