become" is not, perhaps, what is aimed at, so much
as to make people believe that they are gentlemen; for if you should
happen to insinuate any thing to the contrary, no matter how wide
from the mark they go, you may expect to receive summary punishment
for your insolence.

One of these characters made himself quite conspicuous, in
Baltimore, a few years ago. His name was L--, and he hailed from
Richmond, we believe, and built some consequence upon the fact that
he was a son of the Old Dominion. He dressed in the extreme of
fashion; spent a good deal of time strutting up and down Market
street, switching his rattan; boarded at one of the hotels; drank
wines freely, and pretended to be quite a judge of their quality;
swore round oaths occasionally, and talked of his honour as a
gentleman.

His knowledge of etiquette he obtained from books, and was often
quite as literal in his observance of prescribing modes and forms,
as was the Frenchman in showing off his skill in our idioms, when he
informed a company of ladies, as an excuse for leaving them, that he
had "some fish to fry." That he was no gentleman, internally or
externally, was plain to every one; yet he verily believed himself
to be one of the first water, and it was a matter of constant care
to preserve the reputation.

Among those who were thrown into the society of this L--, was a
young man, named Briarly, who had rather more basis to his
character, and who, although he dressed well, and moved in good
society, by no means founded thereon his claim to be called a
gentleman. He never liked L--, because he saw that he had no
principle whatever; that all about him was mere sham. The
consequence was that he was hardly civil to him, a circumstance
which L--was slow either to notice or resent.

It happened, one day, that the tailor of Briarly asked him if he
knew any thing about L--.

"Not much," replied Briarly. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you think him a gentleman?"

"How do you estimate a gentleman?" asked the young man.

"A gentleman is a man of honour," returned the tailor.

"Very well; then L--must be a gentleman, for he has a great deal
to say about his honour."

"I know he has; but I find that those who talk much of their honour,
don't, as a general thing, possess much to brag of."

"Then, he talks to you of his honour?"

"Oh, yes; and gives me his word as a gentleman."

"Does he always keep his word as a gentleman?"

The tailor shrugged his shou