He was uncommon bright, the duke was, and he soon struck it. He dressed Jim up in King Lear’s outfit — it was a long curtain-calico gown, and a white horsehair wig and whiskers; and then he took his theater paint and painted Jim’s face and hands and ears and neck all over a dead, dull, solid blue, like a man that’s been drownded nine days. Blamed if he warn’t the horriblest looking outrage I ever see. Then the duke took and wrote out a sign on a shingle so: