his poor object, we thought it quite impossible that
his attire could ever become worse. We even went so far, as to speculate
on the possibility of his shortly appearing in a decent second-hand suit.
We knew nothing about the matter; he grew more and more shabby-genteel
every day. The buttons dropped off his waistcoat, one by one; then, he
buttoned his coat; and when one side of the coat was reduced to the same
condition as the waistcoat, he buttoned it over--on the other side. He
looked somewhat better at the beginning of the week than at the
conclusion, because the neckerchief, though yellow, was not quite so
dingy; and, in the midst of all this wretchedness, he never appeared
without gloves and straps. He remained in this state for a week or two.
At length, one of the buttons on the back of the coat fell off, and then
the man himself disappeared, and we thought he was dead.

We were sitting at the same table about a week after his disappearance,
and as our eyes rested on his vacant chair, we insensibly fell into a
train of meditation on the subject of his retirement from public life.
We were wondering whether he had hung himself, or thrown himself off a
bridge--whether he really was dead or had only been arrested--when our
conjectures were suddenly set at rest by the entry of the man himself.
He had undergone some strange metamorphosis, and walked up the centre of
the room with an air which showed he was fully conscious of the
improvement in his appearance. It was very odd. His clothes were a
fine, deep, glossy black; and yet they looked like the same suit; nay,
there were the very darns with which old acquaintance had made us
familiar. The hat, too--nobody could mistake the shape of that hat, with
its high crown gradually increasing in circumference towards the top.
Long service had imparted to it a reddish-brown tint; but, now, it was as
black as the coat. The truth flashed suddenly upon us--they had been
'revived.' It is a deceitful liquid that black and blue reviver; we have
watched its effects on many a shabby-genteel man. It betrays its victims
into a temporary assumption of importance: possibly into the purchase of
a new pair of gloves, or a cheap stock, or some other trifling article of
dress. It elevates their spirits for a week, only to depress them, if
possible, below their original level. It was so in this case; the
transient dignity of the unhappy man decreased, in exact proportion as
the 'rev