Indeed, after the exchange of the first greetings, it became apparent
that Perez' presence was a damper on the conversation. The simple fact
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.
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