Fifteen minutes after he began his toilet, he took a comprehensive view
of himself in the large mirror, and mentally expressed the conviction
that, for a man of thirty-seven, he was not bad looking.
Quigg was right; and his just opinion of himself was shared by the young
widows and unmarried ladies of his acquaintance. He was about six feet
high, with a graceful figure, and the head of a statesman. A more
intellectual face, and a broader or more massive brow, assisted,
perhaps, in its general effect, by a slight baldness, were rarely if
ever seen. A distinguished professor of phrenology had picked out
Quigg's head from among half an acre of heads at a lecture upon that
subject in the city, and had pronounced it the "model head," greatly to
the disgust of all the other large-skulled men in the hall. The
professor had also assured Quigg, upon learning who and what he was,
that it was a solemn duty he owed to society to abandon the grocery
business, and devote himself to "philosophical culture, the development
of the humanities, and the true expansion of his interior
individuality.
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