moothly
rounded face, with a complexion that had been fair until hard work, late
hours, and some exposure to the elements, had browned and roughened it;
brown hair, with an evident tendency to curl, if he had not worn it so
short on account of the heat of the season, that a curl was rendered
impossible; a heavy dark brown moustache, worn without other beard; a
sunny hazel eye that seemed made for laughter, and a full, red,
voluptuous lip that might have belonged to a sensualist; while the eye
could really do other things than laughing, and the lip was quite as
often compressed or curled in the bitterness of disdain or the
earnestness of close thought, as employed to express any warmer or more
sympathetic feeling.

Tom Leslie, who might have been called by the more respectful and
dignified name of "Thomas," but that no one had ever expended the
additional amount of breath necessary to extend the name into two
syllables, was a cadet of a leading family in a neighboring state, who
at home had been reckoned the black sheep of the flock, because he would
not settle quietly down like the rest to money-getting and the enjoyment
of legislative offices; a man who at thirty had passed through much
experience, seen a little dissipation, traveled over most States of the
Union in the search for new scenery, or the fulfilment of his avocation
as a newspaper correspondent and man of letters; been twice in Europe,
alternately flying about like a madman, and sitting down to study life
and manners in Paris, Vienna, and Rome, and gathering up all kinds of
useful and useless information; taken a short turn at war in the Crimea,
in 1853, as a private in the ranks of the French army; seen service for
a few months in the Brazilian navy, from which he had brought a severe
wound as a flattering testimonial. He was at that time located in New
York as an editorial contributor and occasional "special correspondent"
of a leading newspaper. He had seen much of life--tasted much of its
pains and pleasures--perhaps thought more than either; and though with a
little too much of a propensity for late hours and those long stories
which _would_ grow out of current events seen in the light of past
experience, he was held to be a very pleasant companion by other men
than Walter Harding.

Perhaps even the long stories were more a misfortune than a fault. The
Ancient Mariner found it one of the saddest penalties of his crime, that
he was obliged to button-h