was, the people did not recognize him as one of them. It was not that
his dress, although a uniform, was better or costlier than theirs. The
blue stockings were threadbare, and had been often mended, and the
coat, of the same hue, was pitiably white in the seams, while the
original buff of the waistcoat and knee breeches had faded to a whitey
brown. But the erect soldierly carriage of the wearer, and that
neatness and trimness in details, which military experience renders
habitual, made this frayed and time-stained uniform seem almost
elegant, as compared with the clothes that hung slouchily upon the men
around him. Their faces were rough, and unshaven, their hair unkempt,
their feet bare, or covered with dusty shoes, and they had generally
left their coats at home. Perez was clean shaven, his shoes, although
they barely held together, were neatly brushed, and the steel buckles
polished, while his hair was gathered back over his ears, and tied
with a black ribbon in a queue behind, in the manner of gentlemen. But
Israel Goodrich and Ezra also wore their hair in this manner, while
shoes and clean shaved faces were occasional indulgences with every
bumpkin who stood around. It was not then alone any details of dress,
but a certain distinction in air and bearing about Perez, which had
struck them. The discipline of military responsibility, and the
officer's constant necessity of maintaining an aspect of authority and
dignity, before his men, had left refining marks upon his face, which
distinguished it as a different sort from the countenances about him
with their expressions of pathetic stolidity, or boorish shrewdness.
In a word, although they knew old Elnathan Hamlin to be one of
themselves, they instinctively felt that this son of his had become a
gentleman.

At any time this consciousness would have produced constraint, and
checked spontaneous conversation, but now, just at the moment when the