After several days very profitably spent among the coal, canal, and dock hands, in the vicinity of Philadelphia, acquiring some knowledge of their habits and occupations, and at the same time, in a measure, habituating himself to the wearing of a rather novel and uncomfortable costume with which Mr. Franklin had been kind enough to provide him, the agent, according to orders, returned and reported to the superintendent that he was fully prepared to commence his work in the mining country. When the young man glanced at his figure, as reflected in a mirror, he found it difficult to believe he was really himself and not some wild vagabond who had usurped his place. The transformation was satisfactorily complete. He beheld in the glass the shadow of a man of about his height and proportions, it was true, his head covered by an old, dilapidated and dirt-colored slouch hat, with plentiful space for his cutty-pipe in its narrow, faded band; a grayish coat of coarse materials, which had, from appearances, seen service in a coal bin, and, while never very fine in make or fashion, was considerably the worse about the cuffs and skirts, both being frayed out to raveled raggedness, from rough usage by its former owner. The vest was originally black, but the years had come and gone in such numbers since, that the dye was washed away, and with it had fled the surface of the cloth and most of the worsted binding in the region of the pockets. The pantaloons, of brown woollen stuff, were whole, but too large for him in the body, and worn strapped tight at the waist with a leather belt, which, from its yellowish and broken condition, might have been a former bell-thong off the neck of some farmer’s cow, appropriated after exposure to all kinds of wear and weather for a series of years. The bosom of a heavy gray shirt was seen beneath the waistcoat, and exhibited no visible vestige of a collar; but a substitute was formed by a red yarn cravat, or knitted comforter, drawn closely around the wearer’s neck and tied in a sailor’s knot in front. The under garment had that which ordinary shirts are seldom supplied with—a pocket, at the left inner side, for tobacco. His boots were of the stoga, hob-nailed, high-topped style, and in their capacious legs easily rested the bottoms of the pantaloons. With face unshaven for a week or ten days, and hair quite dry and straggling, from want of proper attention, it is probable that McParlan’s mother, had she been present, would have refused him recognition. He could only be convinced that he was himself, by reference to his voice, which sounded familiar to the ear. In his satchels, ready packed, were supplies of writing paper, envelopes, stamps, etc.; also a suit of clothes a little better than that upon his person, for occasional Sunday wear. Razor and strop he had none. Their absence was no loss, however, as he did not propose shaving his face until circumstances might call for the resumption of his natural character.