no town-bred dandy will compare with a country-bred one—i mean a downright bumpkin dandy—a fellow that, in the dog-days, will mow his two acres in buckskin gloves for fear of tanning his hands. now when a country dandy like this takes it into his head to make a distinguished reputation, and joins the great whale-fishery, you should see the comical things he does upon reaching the seaport. in bespeaking his sea-outfit, he orders bell-buttons to his waistcoats; straps to his canvas trowsers. ah, poor hay-seed! how bitterly will burst those straps in the first howling gale, when thou art driven, straps, buttons, and all, down the throat of the tempest.