lders.

"Not always," he replied.

"Then I should say that the word of a gentleman isn't worth much,"
smilingly remarked Briarly.

"Not the word of such broadcloth and buckram gentlemen as he is."

"Take care what you say, or you may find yourself called to account
for using improper language about this gentleman. We may have a duel
on the carpet."

"It would degrade him to fight with a tailor," replied the man of
shears. "So I may speak my mind with impunity. But if he should
challenge me, I will refuse to fight him, on the ground that he is
no gentleman."

"Indeed! How will you prove that?"

"Every man must be permitted to have his own standard of gentility."

"Certainly."

"I have mine."

"Ah! Well, how do you measure gentility?"

"By my ledger. A man who doesn't pay his tailor's bill, I consider
no gentleman. If L--sends me a challenge, I will refuse to fight
him on that ground."

"Good!" said Briarly, laughing. "I'm afraid, if your standard were
adopted, that a great many, who now pass themselves off for
gentlemen, would be held in little estimation."

"It is the true standard, nevertheless," replied Shears. "A man may
try to be a gentleman as much as he pleases, but if he don't try to
pay his tailor's bill at the same time, he tries in vain."

"You may be right enough," remarked Briarly, a good deal amused at
the tailor's mode of estimating a gentleman, and possessed of a new
fact in regard to L--'s claim to the honourable distinction of
which he so often boasted.

Shortly after this, it happened that L--made Briarly angry about
something, when the latter very unceremoniously took hold of the
handle on the young man's face, and moved his head around.

Fortunately, the body moved with the head, or the consequences might
have been serious. There were plenty to assure L--that for this
insult he must, if he wished to be considered a gentleman, challenge
Briarly, and shoot him--if he could. Several days elapsed before
L--'s courage rose high enough to enable him to send the deadly
missive by the hand of a friend.

Meantime, a wag of a fellow, an intimate friend of Briarly's,
appeared in Market street in an old rusty coat, worn hat, and
well-mended but clean and whole trowsers and vest. Friend after
friend stopped him, and, in astonishment, inquired the cause of this
change. He had but one answer, in substance. But we will give his
own account of the matter, as related to three or four young buck