“Three suits, Roundjacket,” said Mr. Rushton; “one common, another rich, another as elegant as O’Brallaghan can make.  I really believe this boy is going to amuse me.”

“A most remarkable youth,” observed the clerk, “and draws sketches with astonishing ease.”

“Ah?”

“Don’t you, young man?”

Verty turned round, and interrogated Mr. Roundjacket with a look.  He had evidently not heard the question.

“There, you are dreaming again, sir,” said Mr. Rushton; “this will never do—­come, write away.  The idleness of this world is revolting!” he growled, returning to his sanctum, and closing the door with a bang.

Roundjacket pointed after him with his ruler.

“An odd fish, young man,” he said, shaking his head; “take care not to make him your model.  If you want a proper model to imitate, you need not go far.  Modesty, which is my weakness, prevents my saying more.”

And Mr. Roundjacket cleared his throat, and looked dignified.

“It was my purpose, before this interruption,” he said, after a pause of some moments, “to read to you some portions of a work which will, probably, be spoken of extensively by the world.”

And Mr. Roundjacket paused.  Verty also was silent.

“All countries,” said the poetical gentleman, with a preparatory flourish of his ruler, “have possessed localities famous in the history of literature:—­as Athens, in Greece; the Island of Scio, where Homer first saw the light; and Stratford, where Shakspeare appeared.  Now, sir, reasoning from analogy, which is the finest possible way of reasoning, we must conclude that Virginia has such a locality, and I leave you to decide the probable situation of it.  It cannot be Williamsburg, the seat of government, for that place is given up to the vanity of life—­to balls and horseraces, meetings of the House of Burgesses, and other varieties.  Williamsburg, sir, cannot become famous—­it is too near the sea.  Then there is the thriving village of Richmond, to which they speak of moving the seat of government.  I suppose, sir, that no one asserts that Richmond is ever likely to produce any remarkable men.  Mark me, sir, that place will never be famous—­it is too far from the sea.  Now, what is the irresistible conclusion we arrive at from a view of these incontestable facts,” observed Mr. Roundjacket, endeavoring to catch Verty’s wandering eye; “why, my young friend, that Winchester here is to be the celebrated locality—­that the great poet of Virginia will here arise!  Is it not plain, sir?”

“Anan?” said Verty, smiling, and roused from his abstraction by the silence.