But the dusky blackguard was really daunted and mastered by
the preacher's eye. The wonderful eye was like Napoleon's and Mary
Stuart's in colour; but the Emperor's lordly look hinted of earthly
ambition: the missionary's wide, flashing gaze seemed to be turned on
some solemn vision. Twice in my life have I seen such an eye--once in
the flesh when I met General Gordon, once in a portrait of Columbus.
Poor Jim was fascinated; he was in presence of the hero-martyr who has
revolutionised the life of a great population by the sheer force of his
own unconquerable will. Jim did not know that the slim man with the
royal eye must endure acute agony as he travels from one squalid vessel
to another; he did not know that the sublime modern Reformer has
overcome colossal difficulties while enduring tortures which would make
even brave men pray for death. Jim was in the dark. He only knew that
the saintly man talked like a "toff," and said strange things. After a
little the "toff" dropped the accent of the Belgravian and began to
speak in low, impassioned tones; he told one little story, and Jim found
that he must cry or swear.
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