Altogether it was a very ordinary, and not
very promising abode.
But when they were shown BEN to the parlour, Cosmo was struck with
nothing less than astonishment: the walls from floor to ceiling
were covered with books. Not a square foot all over was vacant.
Even the chimney-piece was absorbed, assimilated, turned into a
book-shelf, and so obliterated. Mr. Simon's pipe lay on the hob;
and there was not another spot where it could have lain. There was
not a shelf, a cupboard to be seen. Books, books everywhere, and
nothing but books! Even the door that led to the closet where he
slept, was covered over, and, like the mantleshelf, obliterated
with books. They were but about twelve hundred in all; to the eyes
of Cosmo it seemed a mighty library--a treasure-house for a royal
sage.
There was no one in the room when they entered, and Cosmo was yet
staring in mute astonishment, when suddenly Mr. Simon was
addressing his father. But the door had not opened, and how he came
in seemed inexplicable. To the eyes of the boy the small man before
him assumed gigantic proportions.
But he was in truth below the middle height, somewhat
round-shouldered, with long arms, and small, well-shaped hands. His
hair was plentiful, grizzled, and cut short. His head was large and
his forehead wide, with overhanging brows; his eyes were small,
dark, and brilliant; his nose had a certain look of decision--but a
nose is a creature beyond description; his mouth was large, and his
chin strong; his complexion dark, and his skin rugged.
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