for the meal that he had given to our cormorant, said: 'You are heartily welcome. I never send any man hungry from my door.' This expression was spread, and he was almost overwhelmed. On one day, in less than a week from this unfortunate remark, he had thirty-two callers within twenty-four hours, and was compelled to refuse all in order to obtain peace. The clothing of a bummer, while, of course, rarely of the latest fashion, is still generally sound and whole, except when on an expedition in pursuit of a wardrobe. This he obtains by 'asking,' though sometimes he will buy cast-off garments in Baxter street, but in general he prefers to beg for it. Some keep dilapidated clothing expressly to wear when begging, and even lend it to others to use for the purpose. Some also make a list of the places where they will be apt to procure what they require. This list they obtain from the daily papers. Every morning they examine the obituary notices, and enter the date of the deaths, of persons of about their own age, on paper; about a week or two thereafter, they call on the afflicted family, and very frequently obtain a supply. What they cannot use they exchange at some of the numerous second-hand dealers for what they can, or sell it outright. Their lodging-place is vast, consisting of the whole city. They are regular nomads, having no fixed abiding place, driven by the police or weather from one spot to the other. The City Hall Park is their usual headquarters by day. Many also visit the criminal courts to pass away the time, but the neighborhood of the City Hall appears to be their favorite resort. Whenever the sky is clear they can be seen sitting on the benches, vainly endeavoring to keep awake. If their gyrations become too violent, or they tumble from their seats, the watchful police are upon them, and, with sundry pokes of the club, compel them to banish Morpheus by walking--outside of the Park. Those who have not rested well during the night, at early dawn wend their way thither, and, stretching themselves on the benches, endeavor to snatch a nap, but, if seen, are always bastinadoed; for the only method our Metropolitans understand of arousing a man is by beating a reveille on his feet with a club. On the Battery, near the water's edge during the summer, was a large pile of gravel. This, in dry weather, was a favorite resort. Here, every night from nine o'clock, eighteen or twenty figures could be seen stretched out in every shape. Most had old newspapers under them; some had a brick or stone for a pillow, but all were hatless. Hats were dangerous pieces of property to possess, as if one was ever left exposed it was sure to be stolen. The police rarely disturbed them; their greatest enemies were the mosquitoes. Many of these night birds sleep in hallways, or on stoops. Some creep into empty wagons, while others visit the hay barges in the North River. The farmers who bring their produce to the Washington Market, arrive there