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I never saw such an old sharp-eye as he was in those days. I knew he wouldn't be angry with me for buying a rowboat; but I also knew that the little bowsprit suggesting a jib, and the tapering mast ready for its few square feet of canvas, were trifles not likely to meet his approval.
He was a Fine-ear and a Sharp-eye in the woods and fields; and he added to his knowledge of nature the wisdom of the most ancient times and of the best literature. His manner and matter both reproved trifling, but in the most impersonal manner. It was like the reproof of Pan's statue.
Sharp-eye, I soon had occasion to remark, had a skilful and quite professional way of opening doors touched latches delicately, as if they were keys of musical instruments opened every door he touched, as if he were perfectly confident that there was stolen property behind it instantly insinuated himself, to prevent its being shut.
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