"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."
"The natives of the Emerald Isle, and those from the land of sour krout," said Mr. Jinks, with elegant paraphrase.
"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."
"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--"
"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!"
"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.