“To keep out those wolves called men.” “Ah! I forgot. You do not like those bipeds without feathers.” “I like some of them, colonel; but the majority are worse than my dogs, Fanny and Frank, yonder. Sometimes I think they are human--they bite each other so!” I laughed. There was something _piquant_ in the grim humor of this singular personage. “What is your ideal man?” I said, “for, doubtless, you have such an ideal?” “Yes. I like a man of bronze, who does not snivel or weep. 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 _à la Victor Hugo_. You have read _Les Misérables_ 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. As he did so, the printer’s devil appeared at the door, holding proof in his hand. “You see I am never safe from intrusion, colonel. This _Examiner_ newspaper keeps me at the oar.” I rose and put on my hat. “Come and see me again soon, if it suits your convenience,” he said. “I am going to write an editorial, and I think I will serve up your host, Blocque.” “Do not use his name.” “Be tranquil. He will be the type only.” And, escorting me to the door, Mr. Daniel bestowed a courteous bow upon me, which I returned. Then the door closed. VI. AN EDITORIAL IN THE EXAMINER. On the following morning I opened the _Examiner_, and the first article which I saw was the following one, on THE BLOCKADE-RUNNER.