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Updated: May 9, 2025
It was a fair race, and the six-feet-three Indian made a splendid spurt, but the pike won. The stream bore us upward to the floating bog out of which it flowed. We drew the canoes out upon a meadow which undulated in graceful billows at our every movement. A step would shake all the surface for a rod about us, while our combined tread sent waves of grassy earth in every direction.
By the result of this affair, the six-feet-three gentleman lost his honour as well as his dearie, and the subject was the theme of many a song in Wakefield for years after. The routine of dissipation which was kept up at Wakefield, was not to be sustained by me without expense; and to meet these expenses I spent more than my income.
Our little hero did not think it much of a joke to have the full weight of a gentleman full six-feet-three in height, and stout in proportion, twice on his toes within a few minutes; but as his tormentor made the most ample apologies on both occasions, he felt fully disposed to endure the pain with as much fortitude as possible, and to attribute the occurrence to accident; when his little rustic beauty, who had more carefully watched and better understood the manoeuvres of the neglected swain, whispered in his ear, "A pointed insult, Sir."
He stood six-feet-two and was so finely made that, in spite of his own statement which could not be less than true, others have declared him six-feet-three and six- feet-four. He could box, ride, walk, swim, and endure hardship. He was adventurous. He was solitary. He was opinionated and a bully. He was mysterious: he impressed all and puzzled many.
In New York last month I overheard a climber sort of woman speaking of me as 'little Miss Morgan, but she didn't mean my height; she meant that she was important. Her husband spoke of a friend of mine as 'little Mr. Pembroke' and 'little Mr. Pembroke' is six-feet-three.
"One thing I don't see though: What's the use of a man being six-feet-three? Men that size can't handle themselves as well as a man about five-feet-eleven and a half can. Those long, gangling men, they're nearly always too kind of wormy to be any good in athletics, and they're so awkward they keep falling over chairs or " "Mr. Pembroke is in the army," said Lucy primly.
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