He was a tall fellow with a quick eye, a sunburnt face, long and crispy hair, and he stemmed his fist in his side, while he held his head impudently high. His costume, though rather “loud,” was still cleanly, and announced a man who probably had “some hay in his boots,” to use a favorite phrase of gentlemen in the same profession. He wore a maroon-colored frock-coat, trimmed with large silver frogs, while round his neck was a black silk cravat, the two ends being passed through a jewelled ring, which a millionaire would not have disdained--had it not unfortunately been paste. He wore no waistcoat, but his shirt was remarkably white, and on it glistened a heavy mosaic chain, with a collection of appendages, whose metallic sound loudly announced his every movement. I had ample time to make these observations, for as the audience collected but slowly, the stranger continued his trumpet overture for a quarter of an hour; at length, when an average crowd had assembled, the trumpet made way for the human voice. The artist laid the instrument on the ground, and walked round majestically to form a ring; then, stopping, he passed his hand through his hair, and began his address. Being little used to this charlatanism in the streets, I regarded the man with confiding admiration and determined not to lose a word of his address. “Gentlemen,” he commenced, in a firm and sonorous voice, “pray hear me. I am _not_ what I seem to be; I may say more, I am what I do not seem to be. Yes, gentlemen, yes--confess it--you take me for one of those scurvy beggars who want to draw a few halfpence from your generosity. Well, you may undeceive yourselves. Though you see me on this spot to-day, I tell you that I have only come here for the relief of suffering humanity in general, then for your welfare in particular, as well as for your amusement.” Here the orator, whose accent plainly showed that he came from the banks of the Garonne, passed his hand once more through his hair, raised his head, sucked his lips, and, assuming an air of majestic dignity, continued: “I will tell you presently who I am, and you will be able to estimate me at my true value; in the mean while allow me to offer you a slight specimen of my skill.” The artist, having then formed the circle afresh, placed before him a small table, on which he arranged three tin goblets, so well polished that they might have been taken for silver; after which he fastened round his waist a red cotton velvet bag, into which he thrust his hands for some minutes--doubtlessly to prepare the tricks he intended to display--and the performance commenced.