He was a man of fifty, with a shock of grizzled hair, a broad but not unkindly face of regular features, bushy eyebrows, and the finest forehead that I ever saw.

His frame was thick-set, and still immensely strong; indeed, the countryside was full of tales of his strange prowess or endurance.

Blocks had been landlords at the Why Not?
father and son for years, but Elzevir's mother came from the Low Countries, and that was how he got his outland name and could speak Dutch.

Few men knew much of him, and folks often wondered how it was he kept the Why Not?
on so little custom as went that way.

Yet he never seemed to lack for money; and if people loved to tell stories of his strength, they would speak also of widows helped, and sick comforted with unknown gifts, and hint that some of them came from Elzevir Block for all he was so grim and silent.
He turned round and got up as we came in, and my fears led me to think that his face darkened when he saw me.
'What does this boy want ?' he said to Ratsey sharply.
'He wants the same as I want, and that's a glass of Ararat milk to keep out autumn chills,' the sexton answered, drawing another chair up to the trestle-table.
'Cows' milk is best for children such as he,' was Elzevir's answer, as he took two shining brass candlesticks from the mantel-board, set them on the table, and lit the candles with a burning chip from the hearth.
'John is no child; he is the same age as David, and comes from helping me to finish David's headstone.