You might go a long while in any country without seeing three such men in company.
Captain Brentwood, of Artillery renown, was a square, powerfully built man, say five-foot-ten in height.

His face, at first sight, appeared rather a stupid one beside the Major's, expressing rather determination than intelligence; but once engage him in a conversation which interested him, and you would be surprised to see how animated it could become.

Then the man, usually so silent, would open up the store-house of his mind, speaking with an eloquence and a force which would surprise one who did not know him, and which made the Doctor often take the losing side of an argument for the purpose of making him speak.

Add to this that he was a thoroughly amiable man, and, as Jim would tell you (in spite of a certain severe whipping you wot of), a most indulgent and excellent father.
Major Buckley's shadow had grown no less,--nay, rather greater, since first we knew him.

In other respects, very little alteration, except that his curling brown hair had grown thinner about the temples, and was receding a little from his forehead.