This is a coy way of describing a bulbous false proboscis that makes Tom Mannion's visage look, shall we say, very well-hung. As a cubist caprice, Dame Nature here seems to have stationed his wedding tackle between his eyes.
[…] and in the event of the said O. H. failing so to complete his title and grant entry to the petitioner, or to shew reasonable cause why he delays or refuses so to do, to find and declare that the said G. H. has forfeited and amitted all right to the said superiority […]
I was resolved to satisfy myself whether this ragged Elijah was really dogging us or not, and with that intent crossed the way with Queequeg, and on that side of it retraced our steps.
Her hair had a nice wave to it.
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