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Updated: May 8, 2025
If I'D wore them kind of duds they'd have had me down to Danvers, clanking chains and picking straws, but on this young chap they looked fine. "Good evening," says the seven-footer, looking down and speaking to me cheerful. "Is this the Old Ladies' Home the Old Home House, I should say?" "Yes, sir," says I, looking up reverent at that hat. "Right," he says.
The Giant, who was a good seven-footer, working up to seven and a half feet, as an engineer might say, with the help of his boots and helmet, was the exact opposite of the Dwarf in disposition. He was altogether too good-tempered, for he was always trying to play practical jokes on the other Freaks.
He was nearly a seven-footer and weighed three hundred. I could stand in his two hands as he held them in front of him and urged everybody to back up the war as strongly as I was backed. It made a hit; it got results. "And then inevitable but unwanted death stalked in, to ruin everything. Mister Lannarck died. He was older than I had thought. He was always careful and honest.
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