His place was supplied by a stranger, who
seemed, however, completely at home in the chair and the tavern.
He was rather under size, but deep-chested, square, and muscular.
His broad shoulders, double joints, and bow knees gave tokens of
prodigious strength. His face was dark and weather-beaten; a deep
scar, as if from the slash of a cutlass, had almost divided his
nose, and made a gash in his upper lip, through which his teeth
shone like a bulldog's. A mop of iron-gray hair gave a grisly
finish to this hard-favored visage. His dress was of an amphibious
character. He wore an old hat edged with tarnished lace, and
cocked in martial style on one side of his head; a rusty[1] blue
military coat with brass buttons; and a wide pair of short
petticoat trousers,--or rather breeches, for they were gathered up
at the knees. He ordered everybody about him with an authoritative
air, talking in a brattling[2] voice that sounded like the
crackling of thorns under a pot, d--d the landlord and servants
with perfect impunity, and was waited upon with greater
obsequiousness than had ever been shown to the mighty Ramm himself.
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