The Coward: A Novel of Society and the Field in 1863Morford, Henry
History
The Coward: A Novel of Society and the Field in 1863
Morford, Henry
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
"H. T." had been observing him very closely during that brief space of
time, as had nearly all the other spectators, their notice attracted by his
reckless mode of alighting. He was apparently about thirty years of age, a
little less than six feet high--perhaps five feet eleven; with a form
undeniably stout, but rounded like a reed and as elastic as whalebone. His
hands were soft and womanish in their contour, though they were rather
large, nut-brown in color, and had evidently felt, as had his face, the
meridian sun. His feet were almost singularly small for so large a
man--highly arched and springy. His face and head, as he the moment after
removed his hat, were capable of attracting attention in any company. The
face was a little broad and heavily moulded; the cheek-bones prominent and
the nose slightly aquiline; the eyes dark, dreamy and lazy; the brow fair,
and above it clustering dark, short, soft hair, curled, but so delicate in
texture that it waved like silk floss with the veriest breath. The mouth
would have been, the observer might have thought, heavy and a little
sensual, had it not been hidden away by the thick and curling dark
moustache which he wore without other beard. Only one other feature need be
named--a chin rather broad and square and showing a very slight depression
of the bone in the centre--such as has marked a singular description of men
for many an hundred years. It needed a second glance to see that a broad,
heavy scar, thoroughly healed, commenced at the left cheek-bone and
traversed below the ear until lost in the thick hair at the base of the
neck. Such was the picture this man presented--a contradictory one in some
respects, but evidencing great strength, power and agility, and yet more
than a suspicion of intellectuality and refinement. A close and habitual
observer of men does not often err in "placing" one whom he may happen to
meet, even at first sight,--after a few seconds of careful examination; but
the keenest might have been puzzled to decide what was that man's station
in life, his profession, or even his character. Any one must have been in
the main favorably impressed: beyond that point little could possibly have
been imagined by the most daring.
A small black trunk came off the top of the coach at about the time that
"H. T.," who seemed to be bargaining for a rival at that early period, had
concluded his inspection; and there was not much difficulty in connecting
the name and address painted in white on the end with the appellation by
which the stranger had the moment before been designated. That name and
address read: "Halstead Rowan, Chicago, Illinois."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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