His beard of a week's
growth, grim and grisly, with a general effect of black; altogether a
disgusting object. Yet he has the signs of having been a handsome man in
his idea, though now such a beastly figure that probably no living thing
but his great dog would touch him without an effort. Coming to the
stoop, where several persons were sitting, "Good morning, gentlemen,"
said the wretch. Nobody answered for a time, till at last one said, "I
don't know whom you speak to: not to me, I'm sure" (meaning that he did
not claim to be a gentleman). "Why, I thought I spoke to you all at
once," replied the figure, laughing. So he sat himself down on the lower
step of the stoop, and began to talk; and, the conversation being turned
upon his bare feet by one of the company, he related the story of his
losing his toes by the glancing aside of an axe, and with what great
fortitude he bore it. Then he made a transition to the loss of his arm,
and, setting his teeth and drawing in his breath, said that the pain was
dreadful; but this, too, he seems to have borne like an Indian; and a
person testified to his fortitude by saying that he did not suppose there
was any feeling in him, from observing how he bore it.
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