"Yes, that is the shop of the knight of the shears," replied the clerk, with elegant paraphrase; "come, let us get on." They soon reached the tailor's, which was not far from the office, on the same street; and Mr. O'Brallaghan came forward, scissors in hand, and smiling, like a great ogre, who was going to snip off people's heads, and eat them for his breakfast--only to satisfy his hunger, not from any malevolent feeling toward them. Mr. O'Brallaghan, as his name intimated, was from the Emerald Isle--was six feet high--had a carotty head, an enormous grinning mouth, and talked with the national accent. Indeed, so marked was this accent, that, after mature consideration, we have determined not to report any of this gentleman's remarks--naturally distrustful as we are of our ability to represent the tone in which they were uttered, with any degree of accuracy. We shall not see him frequently, however, and may omit his observations without much impropriety. Mr. O'Brallaghan surveyed Verty's lythe and well-knit figure, clad in its rude forest costume, with patronizing favor. But when Roundjacket informed him, with hauteur, that "his friend, Mr. Verty," would give him an order for three suits:--one plain, one handsome, one very rich--the great O'Brallaghan became supple and polite; and evidently regarded Mr. Verty as some young lord, in disguise. He requested the young man to walk into the inner room, where his artist would take his measure; and this Verty did at once. Imagine his surprise at finding himself in the presence of--Mr. Jinks! Mr. Jinks, no longer clad in elegant and martial costume, redolent equally of the ball-room and the battle-field--no longer moving majestically onward with wide-stretched legs, against which his warlike sword made dreadful music--no longer decorated with rosettes, and ruffles, and embroidery; but seated on the counter, in an old dressing-gown, with slipper'd feet and lacklustre eyes, driving his rapid needle through the cloth with savage and intrepid spirit. Verty did not recognize him immediately; and Mr. Jinks did not observe the new comers either. An exclamation from the young man, however, attracted his attention, and he started up. "Mr. O'Brallaghan!" cried the knight of the needle, if we may so far plagiarize upon Roundjacket's paraphrase--"Mr. O'Brallaghan! this is contrary to our contract, sir. It was understood, sir, that I should be private, sir,--and I am invaded here by a route of people, sir, in violation of that understanding, sir!" The emphasis with which Mr. Jinks uttered the various "sirs," in this address, was terrible. O'Brallaghan was evidently daunted by them.