But the eyes are brown--reddish brown, with enough white at the corners to make them seem liquid; only liquid is not the word.

For they are radiant--remember that word, for we may come back to it, after we are done with the brow--a wide brow--low enough for Dickens and Thackeray and Charlotte Bronte, and for Longfellow and Whittier and Will Carleton in his day, and high enough for Tennyson at the temples, but not so high but that the gate of the eyes has to shut wearily when Browning would sail through the current of her soul.

As to hair--Heaven knows there is plenty of that, but it had rather a checkered career.

As she clung to her mother's apron and waved her father away to war, she was a tow-headed little tot, and when he came back from the field of glory he thought he could detect a tendency to red in it, but the fire smouldered and went out, and the hair turned brown--a dark brown with the glint of the quenched fires in it when it blew in the sun.

Now frame a glowing young face in that soft waving hair, and you have a picture that will speak, and if the picture should come to life and speak as it was in the year of our Lord 1873, the first word of all the words in the big fat dictionary it would utter would be Bob.