ratively speaking, a small voice, and consequently not likely
to issue from over-grown lungs. His proportions are, or at least ought
to be, as symmetrical as possible. His hair, nine times out of ten, is
black, and _always_ curls. His beard is reasonably bushy; but his
moustache is the most artistically cultivated and carefully nurtured
collection of hair that ever adorned the superior lip of man. His
features are likely to be handsome, sometimes, however, effeminately so.
His dress is a little extravagant; not extravagant in the mode and
manner of a fast man or a dandy--for it is not punctiliously fashionable
like that of the latter, without any deviation from tailor's plates;
neither does it resemble that of the former in the gentlemanly roughness
of its appearance; consequently he rejoices not in entire suits of grey
or plaid, those _very_ sporting coats, those English country-gentleman's
shoes, those amply bowed cravats, and those shirts that are so
resplendent with the well executed heads of terrier dogs. No! the primo
tenore has a passion, first, for satin,--secondly, for jewelry,--and
lastly, for hats, boots and gloves. He dotes on satin scarfs, cravats
and ties, and his gorgeous satin vests, of all the hues of the rainbow,
astound the saunterer on the morning promenade. His love for pins,
studs, rings and chains is almost enough to lead us to believe that his
blood is mingled with that of the Mohawks. Boots that fit like gloves,
and gloves that fit like the skin, render him the envy of dandies. His
hat is smooth and glossy to an excess, and its peculiar formation makes
it considered "_un peu trop fort_," even by the most daring of
hat-fanciers.

The tenor rises late; partly because he is naturally indolent; partly
because the prime basso drank him slightly exhilarated the evening
previous; and partly out of affectation and the desire to appear a very
fine gentleman. Having spent a long time in making a _negligee
toilette_, he orders his breakfast. Seated in his comprehensive arm
chair, and attired in all the splendor of a well-tinselled satin or
velvet _calotte_, a dazzling _robe de chambre_, and slippers of the most
brilliant colors, he takes his matutinal repast. And now we begin to
discover some of the thousand vexations and annoyances that harass the
life of this poor object of popular support. His breakfast is but the
skeleton of that useful and nourishing repast. No rich beef-steaks! no
tender chops! no fr