As I have said before, he had a tall and striking figure. His face was
ugly. He was ungraceful, ragged, and uncouth. Yet there was a splendid
glow of honesty that shone from every feature, and challenged your
admiration. It was not that cheap honesty that suffuses the face of your
average honest man; but a vivid burst of light that, fed by principle,
sent its glow from the heart. It was not the passive honesty that is the
portion of men who have no need to steal, but the triumphant honesty
that has grappled with poverty, with disease, with despair, and
conquered the whole devil’s brood of temptation; the honesty that has
been sorely tried, the honesty of martyrdom; the honesty of heroism. He
was the honestest man I ever knew.