His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat.

A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin.
The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentleman almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements.

The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition.

It consisted of a close jerkin of brown frieze, ornamented with a triple row of brass buttons; loose Dutch slops, made very wide in the seat and very tight at the knees; red stockings with black clocks, and a fur cap.

The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard.