When Verty entered Winchester, on the morning after the events, or rather idle country scenes, which we have related, he was smiling and joyous; and the very clatter of Cloud’s hoofs made Longears merry.

Verty dismounted, and turned the knob of the office-door.

In opening, it struck against the back of Mr. Roundjacket, who, pacing hastily up and down the apartment, seemed to be laboring under much excitement.

In his left hand, Roundjacket carried a small brown newspaper, with heavy straggling type, and much dilapidated from its contact with the equestrian mail-bag, which it had evidently issued from only a short time before.  In his right hand, the poet held a ruler, which described eccentric circles in the air, and threatened imaginary foes with torture and extermination.

The poet’s hair stood up; his breath came and went; his coat-skirts moved from side to side, with indignation; and he evidently regarded something in the paper with a mixture of horror and despair.

Verty paused for a moment on the threshold; then took off his hat and went in.

Round jacket turned round.

Verty gazed at him for a moment in silence; then smiling: 

“What is the matter, sir?” he said.

“Matter, sir!” cried Roundjacket—­“everything is the matter, sir!”

Verty shook his head, as much as to say, that this was a dreadful state of things, and echoed the word “everything!”

“Yes, sir! everything!—­folly is the matter!—­crime is the matter!—­statutory misdemeanor is the matter!”

And Roundjacket, overcome with indignation, struck the newspaper a savage blow with his ruler.

“I am the victim, sir, of editorial iniquity, and typographical abomination!”

“Anan?” said Verty.

“I am a victim, sir!”

“Yes, you look angry.”

“I am!”

Verty shook his head.

“That is not right,” he replied; “Redbud says it is wrong to be angry—­”

“Redbud!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Consign Miss Redbud—!”

“Oh, no!” said Verty, “don’t do that.”

“I have a right to be angry,” continued Roundjacket, flourishing his ruler; “it would be out of the question for me to be anything else.”

“How, sir?”

“Do you see that?”

And Roundjacket held up the paper, flourishing his ruler at it in a threatening way.

“The paper, sir?” said Verty.

“Yes!”

“What of it?”

“Abomination!”

“Oh, sir.”

“Yes! utter abomination!”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“Mark me!” said Roundjacket.

“Yes, sir.”

“That is the ‘Virginia Gazette.’”

“Is it, sir?”

“Published at Williamsburg.”

“I think I’ve heard of it, sir.”

“Williamsburg, the centre of civilization, cultivation, and the other ations!” cried Roundjacket, flourishing his ruler savagely, and smiling with bitter scorn.