The whole town was stirred.

Higgins dropped in with a double-barreled shotgun early in the forenoon.

When he found that it was an infant (as he called me) that had done him the damage, he simply pulled my ears and went away; but he threw up his situation that night and left town for good.

The tailor came with his goose and a pair of shears; but he despised me, too, and departed for the South that night.
The two lampooned citizens came with threats of libel, and went away incensed at my insignificance.

The country editor pranced in with a war-whoop next day, suffering for blood to drink; but he ended by forgiving me cordially and inviting me down to the drug store to wash away all animosity in a friendly bumper of "Fahnestock's Vermifuge." It was his little joke.