A young sot; a premature wreck; physical ina
bility to do a stoker s work; the gutter or the
workhouse; and the end, he saw it all, as clearly
as I, but it held no terrors for him. From the
moment of his birth, all the forces of his environ
ment had tended to harden him, and he viewed his
wretched, inevitable future with a callousness and
unconcern I could not shake.

And yet he was not a bad man. He was not
inherently vicious and brutal. He had normal
mentality, and a more than average physique.
His eyes were blue and round, shaded by long
lashes, and wide apart. And there was a laugh
in them, and a fund of humor behind. The brow
and general features were good, the mouth and lips
sweet, though already developing a harsh twist.
The chin was weak, but not too weak; I have seen
men sitting in the high places with weaker.

His head was shapely, and so gracefully was it
poised upon a perfect neck that I was not surprised
by his body that night when he stripped for bed.
I have seen many men strip, in gymnasium and
training quarters, men of good blood and upbring
ing, but I have never seen one who stripped to
better advantage than this young sot of two and
twenty, this young god doomed to rack and ruin
in four or five short years, and to pass hence with
out posterity to receive the splendid heritage it was
his to bequeath.

[[39]]

p038 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p039w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p040

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