“This class of individual is to be found in great abundance in every clipper ship community. He is easily known, more easily detected. He is a man of vast importance when first he steps aboard; makes no advances; keeps aloof; is evidently selecting, with great caution, those with whom he dare associate without compromising his connections. After a little time, however, he—with a condescending grace, which cannot be too highly extolled—relaxes slightly his vigorous demeanour, and smiles upon the _very_ young men of known good family (of course), occasionally honours them with his arm and promenades the deck for half an hour—is very careful during the peregrination to recount his latest adventures at home—the parting dinners Captain Allalie and Colonel Gammon would insist on giving him; the ballet dancer, who forsook an Earl for his advances and embraces; the prima donna who would insist on rehearsing her role before him as she entertained so high an opinion of his musical criticism and abilities. The borough he might have gone in for at the last election, with the Duke of Sarum’s interest, but that his _own_ family objected on the score of difference in political opinions, and the positive certainty that in a few years his great talents and eloquence must command the most independent seat in the House. “He is of an average height and features, with the exception of a protruding chin, which gives to the mouth a horrible grin; an eyeglass of course; luxuriant hair and whiskers, redolent of macassar. He apes the gait of a military man; wears a frock coat terribly inclined to the third and fourth letters of the alphabet; a waistcoat of the most approved and fashionable cut; trowsers of the loudest plaid style about two to the pair, with very ragged bottoms and straps, the latter article proving a very useful adjunct when the supply of socks falls short; a shirt with miniature cartoons after Raphael or a correct likeness of the last murderer and the last ballet dancer printed upon it; a necktie of the _striking stripe_ pattern, to make him smart. His whole appearance is indicative of a worn-out Stultz. His hands are covered with a variety of rings, from the enamelled and delicately wrought diamond to the massive and substantial signet bearing his crest. An immense watch chain (bearing a striking resemblance to the ship’s cable) with an abundance of charms attached completes the _tout ensemble_ of the outer man. His wardrobe is somewhat limited—but this he accounts for by—‘D—n those agents, the rascals have put my trunks marked “wanted on the voyage” in the hold, and left out those “not wanted,” isn’t it annoying? Could you lend me a few shirts until they’re got at?’ He is decidedly great at the borrowing dodge. Of course his cigars, tobacco and all the little comforts for the journey are in his trunks in the hold. But the way he solicits a loan of the required articles is irresistible. His natural grace (or impudence, we