called Old Mortality, that I made a halt for the purpose of composing
my perturbed spirits, and considering what was to be done; for as yet
my mind was agitated by a chaos of passions, of which anger was
predominant; and for what reason, or against whom, I entertained such
tumultuous displeasure, it was not easy for me to determine.

Nevertheless, having settled my cocked hat with becoming accuracy on my
well-powdered wig, and suffered it to remain uplifted for a moment to
cool my flushed brow--having, moreover, re-adjusted and shaken to
rights the skirts of my black coat, I came into case to answer to my
own questions, which, till these manoeuvres had been sedately
accomplished, I might have asked myself in vain.

In the first place, therefore, to use the phrase of Mr. Docket, the
writer (that is, the attorney) of our village of Gandercleuch, I became
satisfied that my anger was directed against all and sundry, or, in law
Latin, _contre omnes mortales_, and more particularly against the
neighbourhood of Gandercleuch, for circulating reports to the prejudice
of my literary talents, as well as my accomplishments as a pedagogue,
and transferring the fame thereof to mine own usher. Secondly, against
my spouse, Dorothea Cleishbotham, for transferring the sad calumnious
reports to my ears in a prerupt and unseemly manner, and without due
respect either to the language which she made use of, or the person to
whom she spoke,--treating affairs in which I was so intimately
concerned as if they were proper subjects for jest among gossips at a
christening, where the womankind claim the privilege of worshipping the
_Bona Dea_ according to their secret female rites.

Thirdly, I became clear that I was entitled to respond to any whom it
concerned to enquire, that my wrath was kindled against Paul Pattison,