The articled-clerk walks the streets with an air as much like a
military man as he can; and it resembles it almost as much as
electrotype ware does silver. He tries to look at ease, though it is a
great deal of trouble; but he imitates him to a hair in some things,
for he stares impudent at the galls, has a cigar in his mouth, dresses
snobbishly, and talks of making a book at Ascot. The young lawyer
struts along in his seven-league boots, has a white-bound book in one
hand, and a parcel of papers, tied with red tape, in the other. He is
in a desperate hurry, and as sure as the world, somebody is a dying,
and has sent for him to make his will. The Irish priest walks like a
warder who has the keys. There is an air of authority about him. He
puts his cane down on the pavement hard, as much as to say, Do you
hear that, you spalpeen? He has the secrets of all the parish in his
keeping; but they are other folk's secrets, and not his own, and of
course, so much lighter to carry, it don't prevent him looking like a
jolly fellow, as he is, arter all. The high-churchman has an M. B.
waistcoat on, is particular about his dress, and walks easy, like a
gentleman, looks a little pale about the gills, like a student; but
has the air of a man that wanted you to understand--I am about my
work, and I would have you to know I am the boy to do it, and do it
too without a fuss.
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