Marchand d'habits in Paris, crying " Vieux
habits, vieux galons! " Who has not seen
him bartering with the grisette for the sale
of her last Carnival's Debardeur dress? Who
has not seen him slouching along, with a
portion of the said Debardeur dress, in the shape
of a pair of black velvet trousers, hanging
over his arm; a pair of gold epaulettes sticking
out of his coat-pocket; a cavalry sabre
tucked under his arm, and an advocate's robe
protruding from his as usual crammed bag?
Who have not heard of the Gibraltar old
clothesmen,or of the fights on board the Levant
steamers between the Greeks and the Jews, on
disputed questions, relative to the value of cast-
off caftans and burnouses? I knew a young
Turk once at Marseilles, who wore patent-
leather boots, and perfumed himself
indefatigably, but was not quite civilised for all
that; for I remember making him a present
of a large bottle of West India pickles, which,
desiring him to taste, he ate, from the first
Capsicum to the last Chilli; from the first to the
last drop of the red-hot pickling vinegar, which
he drank, all without one morsel of bread or
meat; smacking his lips meanwhile, and
saying "Mi piace, questo bastimento! " his usual
expression when pleased. I remember asking
him, when we were better acquainted, and he
had acquired a more extended knowledge of
the European languages, what were the
characteristics of the Jews in Constantinople?
"They are dogs," he said, simply, " and wear
yellow handkerchiefs, and go about the streets of
Stamboul selling old clothes." If in Turkey,
why not in Persia, in Abyssinia, in Crim
Tartary—anywhere ? There is something
more in it than is dreamt of in my philosophy.
For aught I know, though I believe it without
knowledge, the Jews of Honan in China, or
the black Jews of India, may deal in cast-
off wearing apparel. Every Jew, millionnaire
as he may become afterwards, seems to
begin with the bag. A fabulously rich
Israelite of whom I know something, was once
solicited for some favour by a poorer member
of his tribe. He declined acceding to
the applicant's request. " Ah! " said his
petitioner, spitefully (he was an ill-favoured
old man, in a snuff-coloured coat, and a
handkerchief tied round his head under his
hat), " you're a very great man, no doubt,
now; but I recollect the time when you used to
sell pocket-handkerchiefs in the public-houses!"
And so, no doubt, he had.

From the sublime to the ridiculous there
is but one step; and from old clothesmen to
old clothes there is but half a one. Let us
consider old clothes.

Under which head, I beg to be understood,
I include old hats, old boots, old linen, old
anything, in fact, in which man delighteth to
array himself. With the ladies (bless them!)
I will not pretend, just now, to meddle; they
have their own distinctive old clothes dealers
—their revendeuses à la toilette, there proprietors
of shops where ladies' wardrobes are
purchased. There are Eleusinian mysteries
connected with this branch of the clothes trade;
dark stories of duchesses' white satin dresses,
and dowager countesses' crimson-velvet robes,
about which I must have more certain
information ere I discourse thereon. To the
uninitiated, the " Ladies' Wardrobe " is, as
no doubt it is proper it should be, a mystery
—a glimmering haze of dusky little shops in
back streets, pink silk stockings, white satin
shoes, soiled ostrich feathers, ladies' maids,
and ladies themselves, shawled and muffled,
and with a cab waiting at the corner of the
street. Fubsy women in printed gowns and
aprons are dimly visible through the haze,
sometimes; and the tallyman has something,
mysteriously, to do with the matter. I will
inquire into it.

But of the old clothes appertaining to the
masculine gender. If you want to see old
clothes, and old clothesmen in their glory, go
to Cloth Fair, or the Clothes Exchange. You
will have to pay a small toll on entrance
towards the support of the market, but that
is nothing. I should not so particularly
advise you to take care of your pockets on
this occasion; but I should most decidedly
caution you to take care of the clothes of
which those pockets form a part; for it is by
no means improbable that half-a-dozen Jews
will fall on you at once, and tug fiercely at
your garments; not with any bellicose
intention, but simply with the understanding
that you must have something to sell; and
that, carrying no bag, and being somewhat
eccentric, you are actuated by a desire to sell
what you stand upright in.

During the whole of the time the market
lasts, one incessant series of pacific fights takes
place. Rapidly, in twos and threes, and
sometimes by dozens and half-dozens, swarm in
the clothesmen who have been perambulating
the streets since early morn. In a trice, on
these erst buyers, now sellers, fall new buyers.
What have they got to shell? For Moses'
sake, vat have they got to shell? For all the
Prophets' sake, give them the refusal! Oh!
versh the bagsh ? Oh! vat ish there in it?
Oh! vat you vant ? Oh! vat you give?
The gigantic bag is forcibly removed from the
shoulders of the resisting clothesman; it and
he are tugged, hauled, hustled, jostled, about.
At last, he selects the merchant with whom
he is desirous of doing business, and on that
merchant's shopboard the multifarious
contents of the wondrous bag will be vomited
forth. Lord help us! will it never have done
disgorging garments? More coats, more
waistcoats, more continuations; a shower of
hats; any quantities of pairs of boots, silk
handkerchiefs, umbrellas, boys' caps, pattens;
and, sir, I am not exaggerating when I state,
that this marvellous sack may, and has been
very often known to, contain, and subsequently
disgorge, such miscellaneous trifles as a few
pounds of dripping, a birdcage, a live poodle,
a theodolite, and an or-molu clock. All is fish