—­Elizabeth Stuart Phelps:  A Sacrament ("Harper’s").

She was not more than fifteen.  Her form, voice, and manner belonged to the period of transition from girlhood.  Her face was perfectly oval, her complexion more pale than fair.  The nose was faultless; the lips, slightly parted, were full and ripe, giving to the lines of the mouth warmth, tenderness, and trust; the eyes were blue and large, and shaded by drooping lids and long lashes; and, in harmony with all, a flood of golden hair, in the style permitted to Jewish brides, fell unconfined down her back to the pillion on which she sat.  The throat and neck had the downy softness sometimes seen which leaves the artist in doubt whether it is an effect of contour or color.  To these charms of feature and person were added others more—­an indefinable air of purity which only the soul can impart, and of abstraction natural to such as think much of things impalpable.  Often, with trembling lips, she raised her eyes to heaven, itself not more deeply blue; often she crossed her hands upon her breast, as in adoration and prayer; often she raised her head like one listening eagerly for a calling voice.  Now and then midst his slow utterance, Joseph turned to look at her, and, catching the expression kindling her face as with light, forgot his theme, and with bowed head, wondering, plodded on.

—­Lew Wallace:  Ben-Hur. 
(Copyright, 1880, Harper and Bros.)

When Washington was elected general of the army he was forty-three years of age.  In stature he a little exceeded six feet; his limbs were sinewy and well proportioned; his chest broad, his figure stately, blending dignity of presence with ease of manner.  His robust constitution had been tried and invigorated by his early life in the wilderness, his habit of occupation out of doors, and his rigid temperance, so that few equalled him in strength of arm or power of endurance.  His complexion was florid, his hair dark brown, his head in shape perfectly round.  His broad nostrils seemed formed to give expression and escape to scornful anger.  His dark blue eyes, which were deeply set, had an expression of resignation and an earnestness that was almost sad.

—­Bancroft.

There were many Englishmen of great distinction there, and Tennyson was the most conspicuous among the guests.  Tennyson’s appearance was very striking and his figure might have been taken as a living illustration of romantic poetry.  He was tall and stately, wore a great mass of thick, long hair—­long hair was then still worn even by men who did not affect originality; his frame was slightly stooping, his shoulders were bent as if with the weight of thought; there was something entirely out of the common and very commanding in his whole presence, and a stranger meeting him in whatever crowd would probably have assumed at once that he must be a literary king.

—­Justin McCarthy:  Literary Portraits from the Sixties ("Harper’s").