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We went in, and saw the old man sitting upon a sofa ; his white hair was dressed in many short curls.
He appeared to be thoughtful, but not displeased ; his face was lean, his eyes quick and vivid, but seemed to be a little sore from exposure to the weather.
he seemed to be about six feet high, though his lameness made it difficult to guess with accuracy.
His air was perfectly free from constraint, what the French call degagée.
In face and person he was liker my learned and worthy friend, the Count de Buffon, than any two men I ever saw in the world.
They must have been bad physiognomists that did not discern his capacity and understanding by his very countenance.
Every look conveyed a sentiment with it: he seemed to have no occasion for other language, and indeed spoke little.

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