He had straight black hair, parted up the middle of his head and hanging
down upon his coat; a little fringe of hair upon his chin; wore no
neckcloth; a white hat; a suit of black, long in the sleeves and short
in the legs; soiled brown stockings and laced shoes. His complexion,
naturally muddy, was rendered muddier by too strict an economy of soap
and water; and the same observation will apply to the washable part
of his attire, which he might have changed with comfort to himself and
gratification to his friends. He was about five and thirty; was crushed
and jammed up in a heap, under the shade of a large green cotton
umbrella; and ruminated over his tobacco-plug like a cow.
He was not singular, to be sure, in these respects; for every gentleman
on board appeared to have had a difference with his laundress and to
have left off washing himself in early youth. Every gentleman, too,
was perfectly stopped up with tight plugging, and was dislocated in
the greater part of his joints. But about this gentleman there was a
peculiar air of sagacity and wisdom, which convinced Martin that he was
no common character; and this turned out to be the case.
Pages:
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004