I like
Wigfall for his physique and his magnificent courage. It is the genuine
thing. There is no _put on_ there. He has native pluck--the actual
article--and it is no strain on him to exhibit it. The grit is in him,
and you can't shake him."[1]
[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 _a la Victor
Hugo_. You have read _Les Miserables_ yonder? It is a trashy affair."
And taking up the elegantly bound volume, which must have cost him a
considerable sum, he quietly pitched it out of the window.
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