WHO IS OLD HUMPHREY?

THIS question has been asked again and again, and as the old gentleman is rather backward in giving an account of himself, a few observations may prevent a great many mistakes.

If you meet a man with a proud look, who appears to disdain those whom he elbows in the crowd; who, absorbed in his own importance, passes by persons and things without observation; that man is not Old Humphrey.

If you observe a man speaking harshly and imperiously to another, visiting a trifling offence with unreasonable severity; muttering bad words to the cab-driver who has splashed the mud over his clean stockings; or kicking the porter who has accidentally knocked off his hat with his burden; you may conclude to a certainty, that, whoever he may be, he is not Old Humphrey.

If you notice a fat, comely-looking man, with a red face; dressed in a black coat and white waistcoat, sitting at a city feast, either at the Guildhall, or the Mansion House, though he may be a good sort of a man in the main, you will be wrong, if you imagine him to be Old Humphrey.

If you see a testy old gentleman striding away from a poor woman who has fallen down in a fit; or shoving a poor country-looking lad from the causeway for walking on the wrong side; or kicking a blind beggar's dog from under his feet, you must have strange notions of human character if you suspect him to be Old Humphrey.

If you find a man over-reaching another in a bargain; pinching and screwing an extra shilling from the wages of a poor workman; circulating an evil report of his neighbour; propagating a slander with industrious ill-nature; or ridiculing the afflicted, that man cannot be Old Humphrey.

No! no! The old gentleman has oddities, whimsicalities, and infirmities enough about him, but he is neither inclined to indulge much in luxury, nor to give pain to those around him. If he ever runs the point of his umbrella into the face of the passer-by, or treads on the heel or the toe of a fellow-pilgrim in this world of sorrows, depend upon it, it must be by accident. A man may be as like the old gentleman in appearance, as one pea is like another, but if he carry a churlish and unkind heart in his bosom, the wolf and the lamb are not more different in their natures, than he and Old Humphrey.

But if you see an elderly, sober-looking man, parting two passionate lads who are fighting;

or

giving two-pence to a poor girl who has by accident broken her jug, to make all right again; picking up a fallen child out of the dirt; guiding a blind man carefully across the street; hesitating for a moment whether an importunate beggar is an impostor or not, and then deciding in his favour: if you see such an one, so occupied, he is not unlikely to be Old Humphrey.

If in the house of God, either in a retired pew, or standing up among the poor people in the middle aisle, you see a stranger, a man of years, regarding the minister as a friend, listening to the words of eternal life with thankfulness; and gazing with a fixed eye on the preacher, while he describes the sufferings of the Saviour of sinners, many things in this world are more improbable than that he should be Old Humphrey.

If you ever observe a thoughtful person, somewhat stricken in years, after talking with, and putting something into the hands of a weary and meanly dressed traveller, or turning out of the turnpike road, and leaning over a gate to admire the glory of the setting sun; or gazing on the tall elm trees with an expression of admiration; or following with his eyes the green-bodied dragon-fly, as he lightly skims over the surface of the rippling brook; or sitting by the side of a ditch, poring, with interest, over a foxglove, a

thistle, a daisy, a sere-leaf, a lady-bird, "toad, frog, newt, nettle-top, or dandelion ;" if, ever and anon, he looks up, amid his speculations, to the clear bright sky with an expression of reverence and thankfulness, you have very good grounds for supposing him to be Old Humphrey.

If, in any village churchyard, not more than twelve miles from London, you observe an old gentleman poring over a time-worn gravestone, stocking up the grass with the end of his walkingstick, to get at the date; if he muses over some lowly green hillock in the unfrequented part of the burial-ground, longer than at the beautiful sarcophagus, or the costly mausoleum, with the hatchment sculptured on its side; keep your eyes on him, he is not half so likely to be the lord mayor of London, as he is to be Old Humphrey.

If you meet an ancient man, with a kindhearted countenance, who, as he passes a throng of playful boys, softly speaks, "Bless ye all, my little merry hearts! may you be as free from sin as you are from sorrow!" or ejaculates, as a palefaced woman, habited in black, with a crape bonnet on her head, moves on with a dejected air,

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May thy Maker be thy husband, and thy mourning be turned into joy !" or who comforts a little orphan boy, patting him on the head, and speaking to him of a heavenly Father, and quoting to him, father and my mother

"When my

forsake me, then the Lord will take me up," Psa. xxvii. 10-follow him up closely, for it is ten to one but he will turn out to be Old Humphrey.

And, lastly, if, in your rambles, you notice a man with a walking-stick under his arm, on whose brow threescore years and ten sit smilingly; whose eye lets nothing pass, and passes nothing without observation; if he be neither tall nor short, wearing a decent black coat on his back, and black gaiters halfway up his legs; if he stoops. a little in the shoulder, with a lock or two of grey hair straggling from under his hat, rather broad in the brim if he takes a passing glance at every publisher's window, print shop, and book stall; if he looks round occasionally, like one longing for an opportunity of doing a kind action; if he pulls out an old pocket-book, and smiles while he notes down a sudden thought, or makes a record of something that has engaged his attention; and if, as you pass by, your eye catches on the corner of his paper, an oval flourish round the words, "For the Visitor," turn round, go up to him at once, hold out your hand, and while you give him a hearty shake, look him up in the face, and tell him, though you never set eyes on him before, that you are quite positive he can be no other person in the world than Old Humphrey.

W. Tyler, Printer, Bolt court, London.