{Footnote 1: This paragraph is in Mr. J.M. Daniel’s words.}
“You would admit your men of bronze, then, into the walled-up domain in Stafford?”
“I don’t know,” he said grimly. “With my violin, a good cook, English books and papers—I hate your Yankee trash—and occasional travel, I think I could get through life without very great ennui. I do not expect to be governor of Virginia for ten years yet!”
And smiling, the journalist said:—
“Let us change the subject. What are people talking about? I never ask what is the news.{1} Is any thing said of evacuating Virginia? That is a pernicious idea!{2} Whom have you seen lately?”
{Footnote 1: His words.}
{Footnote 2: His words.}
“A queer set,” I said.
And I gave him an account of my dinner at Mr. Blocque’s.
“What a little wretch!” he said. “I think I will run a pin through that bug, and impale him. He would make a fine dish served up à la Victor Hugo. You have read Les Misérables yonder? It is a trashy affair.”