Rodney Stone by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle — Read

SO much for Champion Harrison! Now, I wish to say something more about / Boy Jim, not only because he was the comrade of my youth, but because you / will find as you go on that this book is his story rather than mine, and / that there came a time when his name and his fame were in the mouths of / all England. You will bear with me, therefore, while I tell you of his / character as it was in those days, and especially of one very singular / adventure which neither of us are likely to forget.

It was strange to see Jim with his uncle and his aunt, for he seemed to / be of another race and breed to them. Often I have watched them come up / the aisle upon a Sunday, first the square, thick-set man, and then the / little, worn, anxious-eyed woman, and last this glorious lad with his / clear-cut face, his black curls, and his step so springy and light that / it seemed as if he were bound to earth by some lesser tie than the / heavy-footed villagers round him. He had not yet attained his full six / foot of stature, but no judge of a man (and every woman, at least, is / one) could look at his perfect shoulders, his narrow loins, and his proud / head that sat upon his neck like an eagle upon its perch, without feeling / that sober joy which all that is beautiful in Nature gives to us-a vague / self-content, as though in some way we also had a hand in the making of / it.