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his hair in what might have been called elf locks, and the expression of his dark blue eyes varied from one of intense melancholy to amused observation.
Tom Appleton, as he was usually called, was certainly a man of parts and of great reputation as a wit, but I should rather have termed him a humorist.
He cultivated a Byronic distaste for the Puritanic ways of New England.
In truth, he was always ready for an encounter of arms (figuratively speaking) with institutions and with individuals, while yet in heart he was most human and humane.
Born in affluence, he did not embrace either business or profession, but devoted much time to the study of painting, for which he had more taste than talent.
It was as a word artist that he was remarkable; and his graphic felicities of expression led Mr. Emerson to quote him as ‘the first conversationalist in America,’ an eminence which I, for my part, should have been more inclined to accord to Dr. Holmes.
He loved European life, and had many friends among the notabilities of English society.
He was a fellow passenger on the steamer which carried Dr. Howe and myself as far as Liverpool on our wedding journey.
People in our cabin were apt to call for a Welsh rabbit before turning in for the night.
Apropos of this, he remarked to me, ‘You eat a rabbit before going to bed, and ’
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