Well, confidence is a good thing, and so is freedom of speech, especially when it is not all on one side.

Sometimes a deep growl of impatience may be heard from some strapped-down and buckled-up elderly beau, whose eyes are not so good as they were twenty years ago, and who has either stuck in the deep bog of mud which fills the middle of the street, or fairly tumbled over, umbrella and all, in an unsuspected hole. Young ladies who have come out on matrimonial speculations from Clapham or Hackney, are anxious about their back hair and garnet brooches amidst all this provoking rain and unmannered hustling. They have, however, an opportunity of displaying some remarkably neat twinkling ankles, which contrast agreeably with the splay feet and awkward waddle of the Greeks, so that they may be consoled. MM. Demetraki and Stavro Somethingopolis, two half-civilised natives, who have been half-educated somewhere in Europe, especially with respect to billiards and écarté, are raving out atrocious French in frantic accents to attract attention, and laughing at nothing whenever their tongues tire, till the street rings again with discordant echoes. They are dressed within an inch of their lives in the last style of some Smyrna or Athenian Moses and Sons. They are the very embodiment of insolent bad taste. But way for a pasha, probably one of the ministers who has been on an embassy to Europe, and preserved his taste for evening entertainments. He comes plashing through the mire at a stately tramp, and mounted on a haughty Arabian horse, which tosses its small, beautiful head disdainfully from side to side. He carries an ample umbrella, and his toilette is so elaborately clean and sparkling, that he quite glitters under it. He is evidently a man of high rank. Cavasses, all blazing with gold, precede him, and pipe-bearers hem him round, while some officer of his overgrown household throws the strong light of a manycandled lantern to illuminate his way. He is, in short, the very pink of Oriental swellism-a Turkish gentleman of the most polished kind. He little knows, as he puffs out his chest, and goes parading along, what is about to happen to him when he passes that group of wild young officers, fresh from dinner. See one of them, a rollicking young giant,