PROJECTS OF REVENGE, INVOLVING HISTORICAL DETAILS.
The companions looked at each other and shook their heads; Mr. Jinks
threateningly, Ralph doubtfully. That gentleman seemed to be dubious
of his friend's ability to prepare a revenge suitable to the deserts
of O'Brallaghan, who had sold his favorite coat.
Mr. Jinks, however, looked like a man certain of victory.
"Revenge, sir," said Mr. Jinks, "is of two descriptions. There is the
straight-forward, simple, vulgar hitting at a man, or caning him; and
the quiet, artistic arrangement of a drama, which comes out right,
sir, without fuss, or other exterior effusion."
And after this masterly distinction, Mr. Jinks raised his head, and
regarded Ralph with pride and complacency.
"Yes" said the young man; "what you say is very true, my boy; go
on--go on."
"Genius is shown, sir, in the manner of doing it--"
"Yes."
"Of working on the materials around you."
"True; that is the test of genius; you are right. Now explain your
idea."
"Well, sir," said Mr. Jinks, "that is easy. In this town, wherein
we reside--I refer to Winchester--there are two prominent classes,
besides the English-Virginia people."
"Are there?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell me--you mean--"
"The natives of the Emerald Isle, and those from the land of sour
krout," said Mr. Jinks, with elegant paraphrase.
"You mean Dutch and Irish?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well; I understand that. Let me repeat: in the town of
Winchester there are two classes, besides the natives--Dutch and
Irish. Is that right? I never was very quick."
"Just right."
"Well, tell me about them, and how your revenge is concerned with
them. Tell me all about them. Dutch and Irish!--I know nothing of
them."
"I will, sir,--I will tell you," said Mr. Jinks, gulping down
one-fourth of his glass of rum; "and, I think, by the time I have
developed my idea, you will agree with me that the revenge I have
chalked out, sir, is worthy of an inventive talent higher than my
own."
"No, no," said Ralph, in a tone of remonstrance, "you know there could
be none."
"Yes," said Mr. Jinks, modestly, "I know myself, sir--I have very
little merits, but there are those who are superior to me in that
point."
Which seemed to mean that the quality of invention was the sole
failing in Mr. Jinks' intellect--all his other mental gifts being
undoubtedly superior to similar gifts in humanity at large.
"Well, we won't interchange compliments, my dear fellow," replied
Ralph, puffing at his pipe; "go on and explain about the Dutch and
Irish--I repeat, that I absolutely know nothing of them."
Mr. Jinks sipped his rum, and after a moment's silence, commenced.
"You must know," he said, "that for some reason which I cannot
explain, there is a quarrel between these people which has lasted a
very long time, and it runs to a great height--"
"Indeed!"
"Yes; and on certain days there is a feeling which can only be
characterized by the assertion that the opposite parties desire to
suffuse the streets and public places with each other's gory blood!"
"No, no!" said Ralph; "is it possible!"
"Yes, sir, it is more--it is true," said Mr. Jinks, with dignity. "I
myself have been present on such occasions; and the amount of national
feeling displayed is--is--worse than mouldy cloth," observed Mr.
Jinks, at a loss for a simile, and driven, as he, however, very seldom
was, to his profession for an illustration.
"I wonder at that," said Ralph; "as bad as mouldy cloth? I never would
have thought it!"
"Nevertheless it's true--dooms true," said Mr. Jinks; "and there
are particular days when the rage of the parties comes up in one
opprobrious concentrated mass!"
This phrase was borrowed from Miss Sallianna. Mr. Jinks, like other
great men, was not above borrowing without giving the proper credit.
"On St. Patrick's day," he continued, "the Dutch turn out in a body--"
"One moment, my dear fellow; I don't like to interrupt you, but this
St. Patrick you speak of--he was the great saint of Ireland, was he
not?"
"Good--continue; on St. Patrick's day--"
"The Dutch assemble and parade a figure--you understand, either of
wood or a man--a figure representing St. Patrick--"
"Possible!"
"Yes; and round his neck they place a string of Irish potatoes, like a
necklace--"
"A necklace! what an idea. Not pearls or corals--potatoes!" And Ralph
laughed with an expression of innocent surprise, which was only
adopted on great occasions.
"Yes," said Mr. Jinks, "of potatoes; and you may imagine what a sight
it is--the saint dressed up in that way."
"Really! it must be side-splitting."
"It is productive of much gory sport," said Mr. Jinks.
"Ah!" said Ralph, "I should think so. Gory is the very word."
"Besides this they have another figure--"
"The Dutch have?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"It is a woman, sir--"
"No--no," said Ralph.
"It is, sir," replied Mr. Jinks, with resolute adherence to his
original declaration,--"it is Saint Patrick's wife, Sheeley--"
"Oh, no!" cried Ralph.
"Yes; and she is supplied with a huge apron full of--what do you
think?"
"Indulgences?" said Ralph.
"No, sir!"
"What then?"
"Potatoes again."
"Potatoes! Sheeley with her apron full of--"
"Excellent Irish potatoes."
"Would anybody have imagined such a desecration!"
"They do it, sir; and having thus laughed at the Irish, the Dutch go
parading through the streets; and in consequence--"
"The Irish--?"
"Yes--"
"Make bloody noses and cracked crowns, and pass them current, too?"
asked Ralph, quoting from Shakspeare.
"Yes, exactly," said Mr. Jinks; "and the day on which this takes
place--Saint Patrick's day--is generally submerged in gore!"
Ralph remained for a moment overcome with horror at this dreadful
picture.
"Jinks," he said, at last.
"Sir?" said Mr. Jinks.
"I fear you are too military and bloody for me. My nerves will not
stand these awful pictures!"
And Ralph shuddered; or perhaps chuckled.
"That is only half of the subject," Mr. Jinks said, displaying much
gratification at the deep impression produced upon the feelings of his
companion; "the Irish, on St. Michael's day--the patron saint of the
Dutch, you know--"
"Yes."
"The Irish take their revenge."
And at the word revenge, Mr. Jinks' brows were corrugated into a
dreadful frown.
Ralph looked curious.
"How?" he said; "I should think the Dutch had exhausted the power and
capacity of invention. St. Patrick, with a necklace of potatoes, and
his wife Sheeley, with an apron full of the same vegetables, is surely
enough for one day--"
"Yes, for St. Patrick's day, but not for St. Michael's," said Mr.
Jinks, with a faint attempt at a witticism.
"Good!" cried Ralph; "you are a wit, Jinks; but proceed! On St.
Michael's day--the patron saint of the Dutch--"
"On that day, sir, the Irish retort upon the Dutch by parading an
image--wooden or alive--of St. Michael--"
"No!"
"An image," continued Mr. Jinks, not heeding this interruption, "which
resembles St. Michael--that is, a hogshead."
"Yes," laughed Ralph, "I understand how a Dutch saint--"
"Is fat; that is natural, sir. They dress him in six pair of
pantaloons, which I have heretofore, I am ashamed to say,
fabricated,"--Mr. Jinks frowned here,--"then they hang around his neck
a rope of sour krout--"
"No, no!" cried Ralph.
"And so parade him," continued Mr. Jinks.
Ralph remained silent again, as though overwhelmed by this picture.
"The consequence is, that the Irish feel themselves insulted,"
Mr. Jinks went on, "and they attack the Dutch, and then the whole
street--"
"Is suffused in gory blood, is it not?" said Ralph, inquiringly.
"It is, sir," said Mr. Jinks; "and I have known the six pair of
pantaloons, made by my own hands, to be torn to tatters."
"Possible!"
"Yes, sir!" said Mr. Jinks, irate at the recollection of those old
scenes--he had been compelled to mend the torn pantaloons more than
once--"yes, sir, and the wretches have proceeded even to shooting and
cutting, which is worthy of them, sir! On some days, the Dutch and
the Irish parade their images together, and then St. Patrick and
St. Michael are brought face to face; and you may understand how
disgraceful a mob they have--a mob, sir, which, as a military man, I
long to mow with iron cannons!"
And after this dreadful simile, Mr. Jinks remained silent, Ralph also
held his peace for some moments; then he said:
"But your revenge; how is that connected, my dear fellow, with the
contentions of Dutch and Irish?"
Mr. Jinks frowned.
"Thus, sir," he said; "I will explain." "Do; I understand you to say
that these customs of the two parties were the materials upon which
your genius would work. How can you--"
"Listen, sir," said Mr. Jinks.
"I'm all ears," returned Ralph.
"Three days from this time," said Mr. Jinks, "these people have
determined to have a great parade, and each of them, the Dutch and
Irish, to exhibit the images of the Saints--"
"Yes--ah?" said Ralph.
"It is fixed for the time I mention; and now, sir, a few words
will explain how, without damage to myself, or endangering my
person--considerations which I have no right to neglect--my revenge
on the hound, O'Brallaghan, will come out right! Listen, while I tell
about it; then, sir, judge if the revenge is likely to be nice and
good!"
And Mr. Jinks scowled, and gulped down some rum. He then paused a
moment, stared the fire-place out of countenance, and scowled again.
He then opened his lips to speak.
But just as he uttered the first words of his explanation, a knock was
heard at the door, which arrested him.
Ralph rose and opened it.
A negro handed him a note, with the information, that the bearer
thereof was waiting below, and would like to see him.
Ralph opened the letter, and found some money therein, which, with the
signature, explained all.
"Jinks, my boy," he said, laughing, "we must defer your explanation;
come and go down. The Governor has sent me a note, and Tom is waiting.
Let us descend."
Mr. Jinks acquiesced.
They accordingly went down stairs, and issued forth.
At the door of the tavern was standing a negro, who, at sight of
Ralph, respectfully removed his cap with one hand, while the other arm
leaned on the neck of a donkey about three feet high, which had borne
the stalwart fellow, as such animals only can.
The negro gave Mr. Ralph a message, in addition to the letter, of no
consequence to our history, and received one in return.
He then bowed again, and was going to mount and ride away, when Ralph
said, "Stop, Tom!"
Tom accordingly stopped.