No More Learning

At first my observations took an abstract and generalizing turn.
I looked at the passengers in masses, and thought of them in their
aggregate relations. Soon, however, I descended to details, and regarded
with minute interest the innumerable varieties of figure, dress, air,
gait, visage, and expression of countenance.

By far the greater number of those who went by had a satisfied
business-like demeanor, and seemed to be thinking only of making their
way through the press. Their brows were knit, and their eyes rolled
quickly; when pushed against by fellow-wayfarers they evinced no symptom
of impatience, but adjusted their clothes and hurried on. Others, still
a numerous class, were restless in their movements, had flushed faces,
and talked and gesticulated to themselves, as if feeling in solitude
on account of the very denseness of the company around. When impeded in
their progress, these people suddenly ceased muttering, but re-doubled
their gesticulations, and awaited, with an absent and overdone smile
upon the lips, the course of the persons impeding them. If jostled,
they bowed profusely to the jostlers, and appeared overwhelmed with
confusion. --There was nothing very distinctive about these two large
classes beyond what I have noted. Their habiliments belonged to that
order which is pointedly termed the decent. They were undoubtedly
noblemen, merchants, attorneys, tradesmen, stock-jobbers--the Eupatrids
and the common-places of society--men of leisure and men actively
engaged in affairs of their own--conducting business upon their own
responsibility. They did not greatly excite my attention.

The tribe of clerks was an obvious one and here I discerned
two remarkable divisions. There were the junior clerks of flash
houses--young gentlemen with tight coats, bright boots, well-oiled hair,
and supercilious lips. Setting aside a certain dapperness of carriage,
which may be termed deskism for want of a better word, the manner of
these persons seemed to me an exact fac-simile of what had been the
perfection of bon ton about twelve or eighteen months before.
They wore
the cast-off graces of the gentry;--and this, I believe, involves the
best definition of the class.

The division of the upper clerks of staunch firms, or of the "steady
old fellows," it was not possible to mistake. These were known by their
coats and pantaloons of black or brown, made to sit comfortably, with
white cravats and waistcoats, broad solid-looking shoes, and thick hose
or gaiters. --They had all slightly bald heads, from which the right
ears, long used to pen-holding, had an odd habit of standing off on
end. I observed that they always removed or settled their hats with both
hands, and wore watches, with short gold chains of a substantial and
ancient pattern. Theirs was the affectation of respectability;--if
indeed there be an affectation so honorable.

There were many individuals of dashing appearance, whom I easily
understood as belonging to the race of swell pick-pockets with which
all great cities are infested. I watched these gentry with much
inquisitiveness, and found it difficult to imagine how they should ever
be mistaken for gentlemen by gentlemen themselves. Their voluminousness
of wristband, with an air of excessive frankness, should betray them at
once.

The gamblers, of whom I descried not a few, were still more easily
recognisable. They wore every variety of dress, from that of the
desperate thimble-rig bully, with velvet waistcoat, fancy neckerchief,
gilt chains, and filagreed buttons, to that of the scrupulously inornate
clergyman, than which nothing could be less liable to suspicion. Still
all were distinguished by a certain sodden swarthiness of complexion, a
filmy dimness of eye, and pallor and compression of lip. There were two
other traits, moreover, by which I could always detect them;--a guarded
lowness of tone in conversation, and a more than ordinary extension of
the thumb in a direction at right angles with the fingers. --Very often,
in company with these sharpers, I observed an order of men somewhat
different in habits, but still birds of a kindred feather. They may be
defined as the gentlemen who live by their wits. They seem to prey
upon the public in two battalions--that of the dandies and that of the
military men.