Two
cast-iron deer, painted death-gray, twins of the same mold, stood on
opposite sides of the front walk, their backs toward it and each other,
their bodies in profile to the street, their necks bent, however, so that
they gazed upon the passer-by--yet gazed without emotion. Two large, calm
dogs guarded the top of the steps leading to the front door; they also
were twins and of the same interesting metal, though honored beyond the
deer by coats of black paint and shellac.
--Booth Tarkington: _The Conquest of Canaan_ ("Harper's").
2. At the first glance, Phoebe saw an elderly personage, in an
old-fashioned dressing gown of faded damask, and wearing his gray or
almost white hair of an unusual length. It quite overshadowed his
forehead, except when he thrust it back, and stared vaguely about the
room. After a very brief inspection of his face, it was easy to conceive
that his footstep must necessarily be such an one as that which, slowly,
and with as indefinite an aim as a child's first journey across a floor,
had just brought him hitherward. Yet there were no tokens that his
physical strength might not have sufficed for a free and determined gait.
It was the spirit of a man that could not walk. The expression of his
countenance--while, notwithstanding, it had the light of reason in it--
seemed to waver, and glimmer, and nearly to die away, and feebly to
recover itself again. It was like a flame which we see twinkling among
half-extinguished embers; we gaze at it more intently than if it were a
positive blaze, gushing vividly upward--more intently, but with a certain
impatience, as if it ought either to kindle itself into satisfactory
splendor, or be at once extinguished.
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