Mr. Ingersoll was physically a handsome man. His form was large and well proportioned, his carriage erect and firm. His manners were unaffected, easy and natural, gracious and engaging.
Whether in motion or at rest he had the air and poise that denote the man of mark. He was stout and muscular – weighing sometimes as much as two hundred and thirty pounds, which he thought was perhaps a little excessive for his height of five feet ten and a half inches.
His shoulders were broad and strong, well suited to support the splendid head they carried. His every feature was most facile in expression, – all his thoughts and feelings seemed reflected there. So open, frank and unconcealing was his countenance, he could not without an effort hide from view a single passion or emotion, and even his thoughts sometimes revealed themselves to close observers. When lighted with the smile that played so often round his mobile mouth, his presence was illuminated as with sunshine.
There never was a more glowing personality. His entrance into any social circle was like a sun-burst, – he radiated life and light and joy. In truth, none could long be with him, and come to know him well, but felt that here he saw a “combination and a form indeed, where every god did seem to set his seal to give the world assurance of a man.”