It was something like the cocked hat, which, half a century later, was worn by most of the gentry.
After watching the boat until it returned to the vessel, the old man went toward the statehouse.

He spoke to no one on the way, though he paused under a large oak about half way between the statehouse and the beach, and gazed long on the town and surrounding country.
The tree beneath which he paused was the same under whose wide spreading branches Captain John Smith had halted to take a last farewell look of Virginia, before embarking for England.

The spot had already grown historic.
The people were gathered in groups on the streets gazing at the stranger, and various were the comments about him.

He noticed the excitement his advent had created, and walked quickly up the street to the statehouse.

Though his hair and beard were white as snow, his frame was vigorous and strong, and his step had about it the elasticity of youth.