"Wake up, you young savage!" he cried, "sleeping when I am reading to you; rouse! rouse! or by the immortal gods I'll commit an assault and battery upon your barbarous person! Savage! barbarian! monster!" Suddenly Mr. Roundjacket heard a hoarse growl, and something like a row of glittering steel knives attracted his attention in the direction of his legs. This phenomenon was caused by the opening of Longears' huge mouth--that intelligent animal having espoused the cause of his master, so rudely assaulted, and prepared for instant battle. Fortunately, Verty woke up before the combat commenced; and seeing the hound standing in a threatening attitude, he ordered him to lie down. Longears obeyed with great alacrity, and was soon dozing again. Then commenced, on the part of Mr. Roundjacket, an eloquent and animated remonstrance with Verty on the impropriety of that proceeding which he had just been guilty of. It was unfeeling, and barbarous, and unheard of, the poet observed, and but one thing induced him to pardon it--the wild bringing up of the young man, which naturally rendered him incapable of appreciating a great work of art. Verty explained that he had been hunting throughout the preceding night--setting traps, and tramping over hill and through dale--and thus he had been overcome by drowsiness. He smiled with great good nature upon Mr. Roundjacket, as he uttered this simple excuse, and so winning was the careless sunshine of his countenance, that honest Roundjacket, uttering an expiring grumble, declared that nothing was more natural than his drowsiness. In future, he said, he would select those seasons when his--Verty's--senses were bright and wide-awake; and he begged the young man not to fear a repetition of what he might have heard--there were fifteen more cantos, all of which he would read, slowly and carefully explaining, as he went along, any difficulties. Verty received this announcement with great good humor, and then began tracing over his paper, listlessly, the word "Redbud." That word had been the key-note of his mind throughout the morning--that was the real secret of his abstraction.