ant lobster. You know that live-broiled look?

As for our other features, they are more or less rudimentary. Of a
nose there is only what a chemist would call a trace. It seems hard to
imagine that a dinky little nubbin like that, a dimple turned inside
out, as it were, will ever develop into a regular nose, with a capacity
for freckling in the summer and catching cold in the winter--a nose that
you can sneeze through and blow with. There are no eyebrows to speak of
either, and the skull runs up to a sharp point like a pineapple cheese.
Just back of the peak is a kind of soft, dented-in place like a Parker
House roll, and if you touch it we die. In some cases this spot remains
soft throughout life, and these persons grow up and go through railroad
trains in presidential years taking straw votes.

And, as I said before, there isn't any hair; only on the slopes of the
cheese are some very pale, faint, downy lines, which look as though they
had been sketched on lightly with a very soft drawing pencil and would
wipe off readily. That, however is the inception and beginning of what
afterward becomes, among our race, hair. To look at it you could hardly
believe it, but it is. Barring accidents or backwardness, it continues
to grow from that time on through our childhood, but its behavior is
always a profound disappointment. If the child is a girl and, therefore,
entitled to curly hair, her hair is sure to come in stiff and straight.
If it's a boy, to whom curls will be a curse and a cross of affliction,
he is morally certain to be as curly as a frizzly chicken, and until
he gets old enough to rebel he will wear long ringlets and boys of his
acquaintance will insert cockle-burs and chewing gum into his tresses,
and he will be known popularly as Sissie and otherwise his life with be
made joyous and carefree for him. If a reddish tone of hair is desired
it is certain to grow out yellow or brown or black; and if brown is your
favorite shade you are absolutely sure to be nice and red-headed, with
eyebrows and lashes to match, and so many cowlicks that when you remove
your hat people will think you're wearing two or three halos at once.
Hair rarely or never acts up to its advance notices.

One of the earliest and most painful recollections of my youth is
associated with hair. I still tingle warmly when I think of it. I should
say I was about eight years old at the time. My mother sent me down the
street to the barber's to have my