Manhood had come to him, both in character and demeanour, not as it comes to most young lads, an eagerly-desired and presumptuously-asserted claim, but as a rightful inheritance, to be received humbly, and worn simply and naturally.

So naturally, that I never seemed to think of him as anything but a boy, until this one June Sunday, when, as before stated, I myself became twenty years old.
I was talking over that last fact, in a rather dreamy mood, as he and I sat in our long-familiar summer seat, the clematis arbour by the garden wall.
"It seems very strange, John, but so it is--I am actually twenty." "Well, and what of that ?" I sat looking down into the river, which flowed on, as my years were flowing, monotonous, dark, and slow,--as they must flow on for ever.
John asked me what I was thinking of.
"Of myself: what a fine specimen of the noble genus homo I am." I spoke bitterly, but John knew how to meet that mood.

Very patient he was with it and with every ill mood of mine.

And I was grateful, with that deep gratitude we feel to those who bear with us, and forgive us, and laugh at us, and correct us,--all alike for love.
"Self-investigation is good on birthdays.

Phineas, here goes for a catalogue of your qualities, internal and external." "John, don't be foolish." "I will, if I like; though perhaps not quite so foolish as some other people; so listen:--'Imprimis,' as saith Shakspeare--Imprimis, height, full five feet four; a stature historically appertaining to great men, including Alexander of Macedon and the First Consul." "Oh, oh!" said I, reproachfully; for this was our chief bone of contention--I hating, he rather admiring, the great ogre of the day, Napoleon Bonaparte.
"Imprimis, of a slight, delicate person, but not lame as once was." "No, thank God!" "Thin, rather-" "Very--a mere skeleton!" "Face elongated and pale-" "Sallow, John, decidedly sallow." "Be it so, sallow.