The confiding characters of tailors being generally acknowledged, it is almost needless to state, that the faintest indication of seediness will be fatal to your reputation; and as a presentation at the Insolvent Court is equally fashionable with that of St. James, any squeamishness respecting your inability to pay could only be looked upon as a want of moral courage upon your part, and A nicely dressed man passes by a scarecrow. UTTERLY UNWORTHY OF A GENTLEMAN. [The subject of dress in particular will form the subject of our next chapter.] IF I HAD A THOUSAND A-YEAR. A BACHELOR’S LYRIC. If I had a thousand a- year, (How my heart at the bright vision glows!) I should never be crusty or queer, But all would be couleur de rose. I’d pay all my debts, though outré, And of duns and embarrassments clear, Life would pass like a bright summer day, If I had a thousand a-year. I’d have such a spicy turn-out, And a horse of such mettle and breed— Whose points not a jockey should doubt, When I put him at top of his speed. On the foot-board, behind me to swing, A tiger so small should appear, All the nobs should protest “’twas the thing!” If I had a thousand a-year. A villa I’d have near the Park, From Town just an appetite-ride; With fairy-like grounds, and a bark O’er its miniature waters to glide. There oft, ’neath the pale twilight star, Or the moonlight unruffled and clear, My meerschaum I’d smoke, or cigar, If I had a thousand a-year. I’d have pictures and statues, with taste— Such as ladies unblushing might view— In my drawing and dining-rooms placed, With many a gem of virtù. My study should be an affair The heart of a book-worm to cheer— All compact, with its easy spring chair, If I had a thousand a-year. A cellar I’d have quite complete With wines, so recherché, well stored; And jovial guests often should meet Round my social and well-garnish’d board. But I would have a favourite few, To my heart and my friendship more dear; And I’d marry—I mustn’t tell who— If I had a thousand a-year. With comforts so many, what more Could I ask of kind Fortune to grant? Humph! a few olive branches—say four— As pets for my old maiden aunt. Then, with health, there’d be nought to append. To perfect my happiness here; For the utile et duloc would blend. If I had a thousand a-year. [pg 64] MY UNCLE BUCKET. The Buckets are a large family! I am one of them—my uncle Job Bucket is another. We, the Buckets, are atoms of creation; yet we, the Buckets, are living types of the immensity of the world’s inhabitants. We illustrate their ups and downs—their fulness and their emptiness—their risings and their falling—and all the several goods and ills, the world’s denizens in general, and Buckets in particular, are undoubted heirs to.