al, but the
evidence was so strong against him, that no earthly power could save him
from the gibbet. The likeness between this wretch and the portrait
before me was very remarkable. This, then, was the incarnation of deep
crime. These are the features that mark a life given up to every sort of
cruelty, licentiousness, and depravity. The physiognomy was peculiar,
and never to be forgotten when once seen. The head was round as a
bullet, the hair red, short and bristly, the moustache and peaked beard
of the same hue; the eyes greenish, and obliquely set in the head, like
those of a cat, with an expression of the most indescribable ferocity
and malice. The eyebrows red and tufted, running up also in an oblique
direction, one of them being considerably higher than the other. Between
the brows was a deep line. The forehead was flat, and retired from the
temples in two separate peaks, that appeared to run up nearly to the
back of his head; the nose was at once hooked and flat, like the bill of
a parrot; the mouth was wide; the lips thin and compressed, with
unpleasant lines at the corners; the chin and jaw square and massive;
the neck resembling that of a bull; the ears were unusually large, and
stuck out at the sides; the complexion was florid, with two pouches
under the eyes, which seemed to drag the eyes down and give them a
bloodshot appearance. A deep line in the cheeks, extending from each
wing of the nose to the corners of the mouth, gave to the countenance a
look of cynical disdain, and completed a portrait at once characteristic
and revolting. The costume was early Elizabethan, and the arms of the
Baron, together with his name and his age--forty-six--when the portrait
was taken, were depicted with the date in the corner of the picture. For
a while I sat musing. "Fit spirit," I muttered, "to inhabit the form of
a flea! Heartless, worthless, bloodthirsty." I gazed at the portrait
with feelings of horror and disgust. The eyes seemed to answer my
expression with a look of anger.

I was unable to judge of the merits of the picture as a work of art,
being little versed in such matters; but of one thing I am certain, that
the painter had endeavoured to imitate as truthfully as it lay in his
power all the leading characteristics of the Baron's physiognomy without
any attempt at flattery.

As I mused it grew late; it was now just upon midnight. I finished
undressing and climbed into my bed, a high old-fashioned four-poster