w not.

On the table were two ornaments; one, the finely moulded figure of
an Egyptian in bronze, the wide Egyptian head-dress falling on the
shoulders, the arms lying rigidly at the sides, with fists clinched.
Generations of handling had made it almost black, but the amiable
expression of the little countenance--the figure was about seven inches
tall--greatly endeared it to me. Its feet were pressed close together
on a small round stand; but one day somebody set it down on a hot stove,
where it remained without flinching till the feet were melted off. After
some years my mother had an ebony stump affixed to it, preserving the
proportions of the figure and setting it once more erect. He was of
greater endurance and of finer physical if not of moral development than
the Tin Soldier of Hans Christian Andersen. The other ornament, less
than half the Egyptian's size, and also made of bronze, was a warrior in
mediaeval armor, whose head lifted off, showing a sharp-pointed rod
the sheath of which was the body. Its use was to pick the wicks of the
oil-lamps of that epoch, and its name was Mr. Pickwick. When afterwards
I became acquainted with the world's Mr. Pickwick, I supposed his
creator had adopted the name from our bronze warrior; but the world's
Pickwick was made of stuff more enduring than bronze; he remains, but
our little warrior has vanished.

I come now to the human occupant of this chamber of marvels. I see a
tall, strong man, whose wide-domed head was covered with wavy black
hair, bushing out at the sides. It thinned somewhat over the lofty crown
and brow; the forehead was hollowed at the temple and rounded out above,
after the Moorish style of architecture. Under heavy, dark eyebrows were
eyes deep-set and full of light, marvellous in range of expression,
with black eyelashes. All seemed well with me when I met their look. The
straight, rather salient nose had a perceptible cleft at the tip, which,
I was told, was a sign of good lineage; muddy-mettled rascals lacked it;
so that I was much distressed by the smooth, plebeian bluntness, at that
time, of my own little snub. The mouth, then unshaded by a mustache,
had a slight upward turn at the corners, indicative of vitality and
good-humor; the chin rounded out sharply convex from the lip. The round,
strong column of the neck well supported the head; my mother compared it
with that of the Apollo Belvedere, a bust of which stood in the corner
of our sitting-room. Th