The Canadian Brothers; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled: A Tale of the Late American War — Volume 1Richardson, Major (John)
History
The Canadian Brothers; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled: A Tale of the Late American War — Volume 1
Richardson, Major (John)
United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Fiction; War stories
The first of the advancing party was a tall, martial
looking man, wearing the dress and insignia of a general
officer. His rather florid countenance was eminently
fine, if not handsome, offering, in its more Roman than
Grecian contour, a model of quiet, manly beauty; while
the eye, beaming with intelligence and candour, gave, in
the occasional flashes which it emitted, indication of
a mind of no common order. There was, notwithstanding,
a benevolence of expression about it that blended (in a
manner to excite attention) with a dignity of deportment,
as much the result of habitual self command, as of the
proud eminence of distinction on which he stood. The
sedative character of middle age, added to long acquired
military habits, had given a certain rigidity to his fine
form, that might have made him appear to a first observer
even older than he was, but the placidity of a countenance
beaming good will and affability, speedily removed the
impression, and, if the portly figure added to his years,
the unfurrowed countenance took from them in equal
proportion.
At his side, hanging on his arm and habited in naval
uniform, appeared one who, from his familiarity of address
with the General, not less than by certain appropriate
badges of distinction, might be known as the commander
of the little fleet then lying in the harbour. Shorter
in person than his companion, his frame made up in activity
what it wanted in height, and there was that easy freedom
in his movements which so usually distinguishes the
carriage of the sailor, and which now offered a remarkable
contrast to that rigidity we have stated to have attached
(quite unaffectedly) to the military commander. His eyes,
of a much darker hue, sparkled with a livelier intelligence,
and although his complexion was also highly florid, if
was softened down by the general vivacity of expression
that pervaded his frank and smiling countenance. The
features, regular and still youthful, wore a bland and
pleasing character; while neither, in look, nor bearing,
nor word could there be traced any of that haughty reserve
usually ascribed to the "lords of the sea." There needed
no other herald to proclaim him for one who had already
seen honorable service, than the mutilated stump of what
had once been an arm: yet in this there was no boastful
display, as of one who deemed he had a right to tread
more proudly because he had chanced to suffer, where all
had been equally exposed, in the performance of a common
duty. The empty sleeve, unostentatiously fastened by a
loop from the wrist to a button of the lappel was suffered
to fall at his side, and by no one was the deficiency
less remarked than by himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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