to　make　their　wayinto　his　inner　sphere　of　contemplation。　His　countenance；　in　thisrepose；　was　mild　and　kindly。　If　his　notice　was　sought；　an　expressionof　courtesy　and　interest　gleamed　out　upon　his　features；　proving　thatthere　was　light　within　him；　and　that　it　was　only　the　outward　medium　ofthe　intellectual　lamp　that　obstructed　the　rays　in　their　passage。　Thecloser　you　perated　to　the　substance　of　his　mind；　the　sounder　itappeared。　When　no　longer　called　upon　to　speak；　or　listen；　either　ofwhich　operations　cost　him　an　evident　effort；　his　face　would　brieflysubside　into　its　former　not　uncheerful　quietude。　It　was　not　painful　tobehold　this　look；　for　though　dim；　it　had　not　the　imbecility　ofdecaying　age。　The　framework　of　his　nature；　originally　strong　andmassive；　was　not　yet　crumbled　into　ruin。 To　observe　and　define　his　character；　however；　under　suchdisadvantages；　was　as　difficult　a　task　as　to　trace　out　and　build　upanew；　in　imagination；　an　old　fortress；　like　Ticonderoga；　from　a　viewof　its　grey　and　broken　ruins。　Here　and　there；　perchance；　the　walls　mayremain　almost　plete；　but　elsewhere　may　be　only　a　shapeless　mound；cumbrous　with　its　very　strength；　and　overgrown；　through　long　yearsof　peace　and　neglect；　with　grass　and　alien　weeds。 Nevertheless；　looking　at　the　old　warrior　with　affection…　for；　slightas　was　the　munication　between　us；　my　feeling　towards　him；　like　thatof　all　bipeds　and　quadrupeds　who　knew　him；　might　not　improperly　betermed　so…　I　could　discern　the　main　points　of　his　portrait。　It　was