See yonder--a “clever fellow.” He has managed to store his head with an abundance of old jokes and anecdotes, which, having formed an effectual barrier against anything else entering into it, are ever at his service. His tongue never flags, which may perhaps be owing to the light burthens it is required to bear, for he never troubles it to give expression to a heavy thought or weighty idea. It is said that Tithonus was transformed into a grasshopper on account of his inclination to talk, but the same propensity has only succeeded in converting that man into a liar. He can sing a song, whistle a jig, and although he may have talent to play a tolerable tune, it must be confessed he plays a game at cards with much greater skill. Polite and affable, he has the address to pass for a gentleman, which, together with a readiness to do their little errands and oblige their whims, brought him into great favor with the ladies, as you observe he is kindly recognised by every one who passes by him. He has a happy faculty of adapting himself to the company into which he may be introduced; and by long practice he has become so expert, that he now finds no more difficulty in entertaining a circle of staid, sober, and inquisitive dotards with “old wives’ fables,” than in directing some licentious carousal. Amongst the gifts with which nature has blessed him, none has proved of more service to him than his excellent stomach, which seems to be perfect proof against the law of “wear and tear.” He can keep you company at the table until you become stupid, drink your health until you become drunk, and then coolly furnish you with a lying excuse to avert the threatening frowns or pacify the angry rage of your wife. His opinions and his conscience are alike pliable, which enables him without trouble to suit himself either to your mind or heart, or to both if required. He will defend the prejudices and errors of the one with true friendly zeal, and commend the good of the other with the enthusiasm of a saint, or encourage its wickedness with the skill of a panderer. Whatever pleases you will be certain to delight him, and he will soon be so assimilated to your tastes as to declare you his “second self.” A rioting, roistering life, however, best comports with his fancy, and he is constantly leading some of his numerous friends into indecorous exploits or lawless adventures. He swears the world was “made for sport,” and why should he be as morose as an anchorite, or shut himself up like some sleepy monk, too drowsy to brush a fly from his nose? Then, too, he is so very liberal--not only generously sharing his pleasures with you, but even providing you with excellent reasons why you should partake of them, and reducing your most heinous offences into “common, every-day peccadilloes.” Are you young, he will persuade you that few faults or vices are so monstrous as to be denied a place amongst youthful follies; and if old, what could be wiser than