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fume through its mysteries? and gradually whiffs it through and from his lips in gentle wreaths, which, rising, surrounds his unclear with fitting emblems of his character and profession, and then reconveys the delectable narcotic to the place from which it came, and unclear his thumb in the armhole of his waistcoat with so much self complacency.-unclear admirably his yet black hair is absessed to his head, falling in thick wavy locks over his neck and ears. See what a noble hauteur? there is in every movement-one would not take him to be the son of an American republican that he is, but the scion of some great and ancient home of old England. See what a blandness there is in his countenance. Did you ever see a sneer distort those finely chiseled features or a curl of scorn upon those lips, or anger flashing from those mellow eyes? Perhaps not. Is he not a nice young gentleman! But then he can't help if-poor fellow-he was born so. No man would be so lovely in his disposition if he could-it is all natural, you know; inherent in the heart and, to use a vulgar saying, "what is bred in the bone will come out of the flesh." Mr. John Rogers Clayton was from elsewhere in the Empire State-perhaps within sound of the voices of the greatmen of the nation, as they made the halls of legislation resound with their eloquent appeals, their political harangues, and their