The man wore knee-breeches and white stockings; his coat was 'some kind of a lightish colour--or betwixt that and dark'; and he wore a 'mole-skin weskit.' As if this were not enough, he presently haled me from my breakfast in a prodigious flutter, and showed me an honest and rather venerable citizen passing in the Square.
'That's _him_, sir,' he cried, 'the very moral of him! Well, this one is better dressed, and p'r'aps a trifler taller; and in the face he don't favour him noways at all, sir.

No, not when I come to look again, 'e don't seem to favour him noways.' 'Jackass!' said I, and I think the greatest stickler for manners will admit the epithet to have been justified.
Meanwhile the appearance of my landlady added a great load of anxiety to what I already suffered.

It was plain that she had not slept; equally plain that she had wept copiously.

She sighed, she groaned, she drew in her breath, she shook her head, as she waited on table.

In short, she seemed in so precarious a state, like a petard three times charged with hysteria, that I did not dare to address her; and stole out of the house on tiptoe, and actually ran downstairs, in the fear that she might call me back.