His stature was colossal, and the proportions of his frame as just as they were gigantic; so that there was much in his appearance of real native majesty.

Nothing, in fact, could be well imagined more truly striking and grand than his appearance, as seen at the first glance; though the second revealed a lounging indifference of carriage, amounting, at times, to something like awkwardness and uncouthness, which a little detracted from the effect.

Such men were oft-times, in those days, sent from among the mountain counties of Virginia, to amaze the lesser mortals of the plains, who regarded them as the genii of the forest, and almost looked, as was said of the victor of the Kenhawa,[1] himself of the race, to see the earth tremble beneath their footsteps.
With a spirit corresponding to his frame, he would have been the Nimrod that he seemed.

But nature had long before extinguished the race of demigods; and the worthy Commander of the Station was not of them.

He was a mortal man, distinguished by little, save his exterior, from other mortal men, and from the crowd of settlers who had followed him from the fortress.