is lower extremities were clad in a tight pair of short breeches,
beneath which, scarlet stockings plunged themselves into enormous
shoes, decorated with huge rosettes; his coat was half-military,
half-fop; and a long sword buckled round his waist, knocked
against his fantastic grasshopper legs. His hair was frizzled; his
countenance, a most extraordinary one; his manner, a mixture of the
hero and the bully, of noble dignity and truculent swagger, as if
Ancient Pistol had taken the part of Coriolanus, and had not become
proficient wholly in his lofty personation.

When this gentleman walked, his long sword bobbed, as we have said,
against his legs; when he bowed, his attitude was full of dignity;
when he grimaced, he presented an appearance which would have
made Punchinello serious, and induced a circus clown to fall into
convulsions of despair.

This was the figure which now stood before Verty, and caused that
young man to lower his eyes from the roof and the pigeons. Verty
looked at the gentleman for a moment, and smiled.

"It is a handsome house," he said.

"Handsome?" said the tall gentleman, with dignity. "I believe you.
That house, sir, is the finest I ever saw."

"Is it?" said Verty.

"Yes, sir."

Verty nodded.

"I am a traveller, sir."

"Are you?"

"I am," said the military gentleman, solemnly. "I have been
everywhere, sir; and even in Philadelphia and Paris there is nothing
like that house."

"Indeed?" Verty said, surveying the remarkable edifice.

"Do you see the portico?" said the gentleman, frowning.

"Yes," said Verty.

"That, sir, is exactly similar to the Acropolis--Pantheon at Rome."

"Eh?" said Verty.

"Yes, sir; and then the wings--do you see the wings?"

"Plainly," said Verty.

"Those, sir, are modeled on the State-House in Paris, and are intended
to shelter the youthful damsels, here assembled, as the wings of a hen
do the chickens of her bosom--hem! Cause and effect, sir--philosophy
and poetry unite to render this edifice the paragon and brag of
architectural magnificence."

"_Anan_?" said Verty.

"I see you speak French."

"That ain't French."

"No? Then it's something else. Going up there?"

"Yes," said Verty.

"Fine turkey that. For the old lady?"

"Who's the old lady?"

"Old Mrs. Scowley--a model of the divine sex, sir."

"No, it ain't for her," said Verty, smiling.

"For Miss Sallianna?"

"Who's that?"

"I see, sir, that you are not acquainted with th