He says that in the crude and uncultivated mentalities of our--" "Here he is now," interrupted Phil, as the distinguished guest of the Cross-Triangle appeared, coming slowly toward them.
Professor Everard Charles Parkhill looked the part to which, from his birth, he had been assigned by his over-cultured parents.

His slender body, with its narrow shoulders and sunken chest, frail as it was, seemed almost too heavy for his feeble legs.

His thin face, bloodless and sallow, with a sparse, daintily trimmed beard and weak watery eyes, was characterized by a solemn and portentous gravity, as though, realizing fully the profound importance of his mission in life, he could permit no trivial thought to enter his bald, domelike head.

One knew instinctively that in all the forty-five or fifty years of his little life no happiness or joy that had not been scientifically sterilized and certified had ever been permitted to stain his super-aesthetic soul.
As he came forward, he gazed at the long-limbed man on the big bay horse with a curious eagerness, as though he were considering a strange and interesting creature that could scarcely be held to belong to the human race.
"Professor Parkhill," said Phil coolly, "you were saying that you had never seen a genuine cowboy in his native haunt.

Permit me to introduce a typical specimen, Mr.Honorable Patches.