Benjy, to look at, was smudgy and slovenly, and not at all handsome, for he hated tubs, and brushes, and soap, and cold water, and he liked to lie late in a morning, and then was apt to shuffle on his clothes and come down after very imperfect ablutions, having forgotten to brush his teeth, and with his hair still in dusky “cockatoos” from tossing about in bed.
Nox rose early, delighted in cold water, and had teeth like ivory and hair as glossy as a raven’s wing; his face beamed with intelligence and trustfulness, and his clear brown eyes looked straight into yours when you spoke to him, as if he would say, “Let my eyes speak for me, if you please; I have not the pleasure of understanding your language.”
Benjy’s waistcoat and shirt-front were untidy and spotted with dirt.
The covering of Nox’s broad chest was always glossy and in good order.
Benjy came into the drawing room with muddy boots and dirty hands.
Nox, if he had been out in the mud, would lie down on his return and lick his broad, soft, brown paws, like a cat, till they were clean.
It has been said that Benjy did not care for the society of girls; but when Nox was petted by his lady-sisters, he put his big head on their shoulders, and licked their faces with his big red tongue (which was his way of kissing). And he would put up his brown feet in the most insinuating manner, and shake paws over and over again, pressing tightly with his strong toes, but never hurting the little girls’ hands.
Benjy destroyed lives with much wanton cruelty.
Nox saved lives at the risk of his own.
The ruling idea of his life, and what he evidently considered his most important pursuit, in fact, his duty, or vocation, must be described at some length.