Don't imagine, now, that you are to have a learned dissertation upon the life of the Caesar of history. No: our Caesar trod the humbler paths of life; our Caesar wielded a hammer instead of a battle-axe; war had no charms for him; but, on the contrary, his soul delighted in peace, penny cigars and lager-bier.

Our Caesar stood about five feet eight inches in his stockings (or somebody else's, for, accordingⒶalteration in the MS to his regular weekly complaint, his washerwoman never did bring back the same clothes she took away with her,); very thick heavy build; long, fiery red hair, and large, round, coarse face, which looked like the full moon in the last stage of small pox. Jul'us Caesar was a ship-smith, and worked at the Navy Yard in Philadelphia; and theⒶalteration in the MS name which heads this sketch was bestowed upon him at our boarding house because, when anything astonished him, instead of exclaiming “The mischief!” or “The Devil!” as gentlemen usually do, he brought out an emphatic “Jul'us Caesar!” in a voice by no means remarkable for its Ⓐemendationsweetness—the mannerⒶalteration in the MS of speakingⒶalteration in the MS the two words showingⒶalteration in the MS at the same time, that his great mind was not in the habit of spendingⒶalteration in the MS its Ⓐemendationforce upon trifles, such as correctness of punctuation, &c.

Jul'us Caesar, on ordinary occasions, wore an ancient high crowned hat, a check shirt without a collar, and a very long black cravat wound round his neck three times and the extreme ends tied in a very small knot at his throat; a black satin vest, gracefully fringed in front, from having its Ⓐemendationlower edge gradually worn away; an old black coat, which had once borne a very dandified appearance; pants which had beenⒶalteration in the MS [begin page 112] gray, but now changed to a dingy brown from long service; and brogan shoes of prodigious size and weight. In the morning, when he would rise to a sitting posture in his bed (with his everlasting cravat wound round his neck, and which he only removed once a week,)Ⓐalteration in the MS and lazily rub his big, round eyes, he was a picture to look at—a theme for naturalists to study—with his sparse red moustaches, which would persist in growing the wrong way, do what he would; his big red face bigger and redder than ever, and his long hair, caked and matted together with grease, spread abroad and standing out like a turkey gobbler's tail. Then, with a “Jul'us Caesar! ain't it cold!” he would spring into the middle of the room, and commence jerking on his clothes inⒶalteration in the MS as great a hurry as if the house was on fire and five seconds the time allowed him to save himself in. After washing, he would devote half an hour to drumming up and restoring to theirⒶalteration in the MS proper place his wandering locks of hair; and in arranging this portion of his toilet he had a method peculiarly his own—parting his head covering on both sides, and combing that which grew above the lines, into a huge roll on top of his head, said roll extending from his forehead back to the crown, and looking likeⒶalteration in the MS a great wave, givingⒶalteration in the MS his upper story the appearance of a sandy beach when the tide is coming in. If it were a week-day, he would stride down streetⒶtextual note with his hat leaning theⒶalteration in the MS slightest mite in the world to the western side of his head, (on Sundays it occupied the extreme western side)Ⓐalteration in the MS and his hands thrust into his coat pockets and then brought round and crossed in front, thereby stretching the garment very tightly behind; and as he always walked very erectly, and maintained a most rigid perpendicular, this afforded one an excellent opportunity of seeing and admiring the graceful motions of his muscles.

“Jul'us Caesar” was a phrenological curiosity: his head was one vast lump of Approbativeness; and though he was as ignorant and as void of intellect as a Hottentot, yetⒶalteration in the MS the great leveller and equalizer, Self-ConceitⒺexplanatory note made him believe himself fully as talented, learned and handsome as it is possible for a human being to be. He was decidedly literary, after a fashion of his own, and the gems which find their way before the public through the medium of the “Flag of our Union,” and “BostonⒶalteration in the MS True Flag,”Ⓔexplanatory note together with such instructiveⒶalteration in the MS and entertaining books as “The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main,” “Jack Sheppard,”Ⓔexplanatory note &c., &c., were food and drink to his soul.

My friend Sumner, and myself thought that by good management, we might draw some amusement from this apparently barren subject. Having decided to make the effort, we proceeded, by slow and careful advances to instil into his mind a notion that he could write poetry. To accomplish this undertaking successfully, was no small labor; for, to sit down, and tellⒶalteration in the MS such a block of wood that he could write poetry, and do it, too, with a sober face and a truthful air—why, theⒶalteration in the MS self-complacent look which would settle on his countenance as he listened to and believed it all, was so irresistibly ludicrous that it was almost impossible to Ⓐemendationcarry the thing through without laughing, which would of course have spoiled all. However, after a week of earnest application to our great work, our labors were at last crowned with success. As we stepped in one Sunday morning, the great Caesar Ⓐemendationapproached us with a most important stride, and drawing from his pocket a folded sheet of paper, handed it to Sumner without saying a word, and thenⒶalteration in the MS stepped aside with a very exalted air to watch the result. Sumner opened and glanced at it, and being taken so much byⒶalteration in the MS surprise, he could not control his risibles; so, to prevent an explosion and alsoⒶalteration in the MS the ruin which would follow the same, he bit his lip, handed the paper to me, and stepped into the entry, where he could work off his surplus laughter without causing any damage to our scheme. I had to reassure the poetⒶalteration in the MS, (for the paper contained an effusion,) who looked somewhat puzzled at Sumner's behavior, by quietly telling him “Sumner was sick—had been very sick at the stomach all the morning.” I spread out the foolscap, and my vision was refreshed with the following pearl, written under the inspiration of the awful and the sublime, awakenedⒶalteration in the MS by a thunder storm the night before:

[There were originally six verses, but I can remember only four—which four, at least, I will rescue from oblivion:]

“The Storm.

How we enjoyedⒶalteration in the MS ourselves, Sumner and I, over this morsel, it is impossible to say on paper; how we praised and flattered and fooled the author; how we patted him on the back and told him to persevere—it was the decree ofⒶalteration in the MS fateⒶalteration in the MSand destiny that he shouldⒶalteration in the MS be a poet; how we praised him to each other when he lay upon his bed apparently asleep—though we knew he was not; how he turned poet all over, in nature, in actionⒶalteration in the MS, and in sentiment; how he talked nonsense with a poetical air, walked with a poetical gait, and eat with—not a poetical appetite; how he reclined languidly, smoked spasmodically, and uttered his favorite ejaculation tragically (three essentials to a poet's second nature); how he kept on writing tillⒶalteration in the MS we were handsomely bored, and the rooms flooded with “poetry”; how he might have kept on writing till Doomsday perhaps, if Sumner had not told him in the most approved English that he was a fool, an idiot, and never would be able to write poetry, and advised him to waste no more paper; and how Sumner—who was angry when he said it,—begged his pardon and said he didn't mean half he said; how all this happened, and a great deal more, is matter sufficient for an articleⒶalteration in the MS much longer than I care about writing, and therefore I shall leave that portion of my sketch to be imagined.

“Jul'us” laid by the pen, but after a good deal of persuasion and a large amount of flattery, weⒶalteration in the MS succeeded in convincing him that he could at least draw and paint. We took this course, after discovering upon a sheet of paper several nondescript figures, with their names underneath, in Jul'us's Ⓐemendationown handwriting—there was no mistake as to the chirography, for its Ⓐemendationstyle wasⒶalteration in the MS to be met with no where else. One figure, which upon a first view we took to be a representation of a carpenter's work bench, proved, upon reference to the inscription beneath, to be “a hors;” by the latter method of proceeding, we also discovered that what at first appeared to be a shovel and tongs, was “a man and woman.” These things he had evidently displayed purposely, and was doubtless very proud of them. It was sharp work this time to impose upon the ex-poetⒶalteration in the MS, and we had almost concluded to give it up, when we noticed, one morning,Ⓐtextual note Ⓐemendationthe slightest tinge in the world of red upon a tea cup onⒶalteration in the MS the mantel piece, and a little yellow spot on the corner of the washstand. If these spots had been white, they would have awakenedⒶalteration in the MS no suspicions, for the room had been latelyⒶalteration in the MS whitewashed: but no, the marks were paint, and put there by “Julus Caesar,” and no one else—for who but him would be so careless as to daub itⒶalteration in the MS over everything? and moreoverⒶemendation, he must certainly intend to take us by surprise again, or why would he keep the matter so secret? These Ⓐemendationwere the thoughts that flitted across our minds, and we looked anxiously for the firstⒶalteration in the MS efforts of Ⓐemendationthis newly awakened genius, confident that they would be of the most brilliant character. Our landlady was one of the most terrible of her sex when her temper was ruffled, and as she had a most unqualified contempt for “Julus,” she was particularly severe upon him when ever he did anything to displease her—nor was she at all choice in the epithets she selected for his benefit. We were all sitting in the parlor one afternoon, when Mrs. C. flourished into the room with an air which left no room to doubt that her blood was up. Without any unnecessary preliminaries, she at once commenced, while our astoundedⒶalteration in the MS genius listened in silent awe:

“That everlasting fool has been at some more of his nonsense! Oh, it was you, you insignificant ‘natomy, for no body else in all PhiladelphiaⒶalteration in the MS has got that little sense! Oh, you needn't say a word (now “Julus” had not the remotest idea of attempting such a thing,) you puddin’-headed ignoramus! To go and do it, too, just after I had the room all nicely [begin page 116] whitewashed. Oh-h! (and she ground the words out from between her teethⒶalteration in the MS as she shook her fist at poorⒶalteration in the MS “Julus,”) I've a good mind to scratch your eyes out! Come up here, every one of you, and see what the idiot has been doing”—and she wheeled around with a jerk that made her dresses rustle like a small tornado, and flourished up stairs. As soon as the assembled boarders had recovered from the almost fatal fit of laughter which the lady's speech and “Julus's” mortification had thrown them into, we all proceeded up stairs, followed by the crest fallen poet, and there, on the white wall, over Sumner's bed and mine, was a sight to make a saint laugh. First, there was a caricature of the stars and stripes or a rain bow,—it was impossible to tell which,—Ⓐalteration in the MSbut whatever it was, it had colors enough; next was another “hors,” of huge proportions, with a red body and green legs; and lastly,—the crowning effort—was “a firemenⒶemendation,” in a pugilistic attitude, with one leg a great deal smaller, and a great deal shorter than the other one, a gaudyⒶalteration in the MS red hat on the side of his head, green shirt, with sleeves tucked up, and intensely yellow pants and blue boots—the picture happily relieved by a tailless yellow dog with brilliant green and blue spots on his sides. The yell that went up from our little crowd would have put a band of Comanche indians to the blush, and drowned for a moment the landlady's harangue, but she soon got under way again, devoting her speechⒶalteration in the MS, as before, to our artist:

“Ugh! you great calf, you ought to be ashamed of such childishness. Who raised you? Where in the name of sense did you come from? Who taught you to make a fool of yourself? ⒶemendationBut I pity you, indeed I do. (Another glance at the picture) If you belonged to me, I'd whip you if you were a hundred years old. I never saw such an outrageous blockhead in all my life. Why don't youⒶalteration in the MS go to school and learn something? I've seen a good many geese with clothes on in my time, but never, till I saw you, did I think a man could be made entirely without brains. Why don't you learn to behave yourself like a Christian? UghⒶalteration in the MS! youⒶalteration in the MS poor miserable——”

The old lady, although addressing her remarks to “Julus,” had started down stairs when she commenced, and her voice gradually died away in the distance, till the remainder of her last exclamationⒶalteration in the MS was lost to us.

With this much of the veritable and wonderful history of the great modern “Julus Caesar,” I will now leave him, and

hoping, some day, when time and opportunity shall offer, to be able to continue the history of, and do justice to, this great man. I must say, though, that though his faults were numerous; though his manners were unrefined and his speech rude; though his mind was uncultivated, and his vanityⒶalteration in the MS made him unpleasant—yet he had aⒶalteration in the MS kind and generous Ⓐemendation Ⓐalteration in the MSnature, andⒶtextual note his failings were those of the head, and not of the heart.