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Since he lived six times as many working-days as Sundays, Oak's appearance in his old clothes was most peculiarly his own - the mental picture formed by his neighbours in imagining him being always dressed in that way. He wore a low-crowned felt hat, spread out at the base by tight jamming upon the head for security in high winds, and a coat like Dr. Johnson's; his lower extremities being encased in ordinary leather leggings and boots emphatically large, affording to each foot a roomy apartment so constructed that any wearer might stand in a river all day long and know nothing of damp - their maker being a conscientious man who endeavoured to compensate for any weakness in his cut by unstinted dimension and solidity.