The Last of the Foresters Part 37

Before, Jinks' brows were corrugated into a frown; now, however, two mountain ridges, enclosing a deep valley, extended from the upper portion of the bridge of the Jinks nose to the middle of the Jinks forehead.

The despairing lover resembled an ogre who had not dined for two whole days, and was ready to devour the first comer.

What should he do? Take revenge, or marry the perfidious woman? Jinks did not doubt his ability to perform the latter; and thus he went on his way in doubt and wrath.

At least he would go that very morning and charge her with perfidy; and so having decided upon his course so far, he strode on rapidly.

Mr. Jinks bent his course toward Bousch's tavern, where he proposed to take up his temporary residence.

Since this house has become historical, let us say a word of it. It was one of those old wooden "ordinaries" of Virginia, which are now never seen in towns of any size, crouching only on the road-side or in obscure nooks, where the past lives still. It was a building of large size, though but two stories in height, and even then presented an ancient appearance, with its low eaves, small-paned windows, and stone slab before the door. Behind it was an old garden, and near at hand, two ponderous valves opened upon a large stable-yard full of bustling hostlers.

The neighborhood in which this ancient dwelling stood was not without a certain picturesqueness, thanks to the old, low-eaved houses, dating from the French-Indian wars, and gra.s.sy knolls, from which quarries of limestone stood out boldly; above all, because of the limpid stream, which, flowing from the west just by the portico of the old tavern, murmured gaily in the traveller's ear, and leaped toward him as he crossed it, or allowed his weary animal to bathe his nostrils in the cool water. Two or three majestic weeping-willows plunged their broad trunks and vigorous roots into the clear stream, and sighed forever over it, as, pa.s.sing onward, it ran away from the Bousch hostelry toward its ocean, the Opequon.

This old tavern, which exists still, we believe, a venerable relic of the border past, was, in the year 1777, the abode of a "number of Quakers, together with one druggist and a dancing-master, sent to Winchester under guard, with a request from the Executive of Pennsylvania, directed to the County-Lieutenant of Frederick, to secure them." The reasons for this arrest and exile may be found in a Congressional report upon the subject, (Anno. 1776,) which states, that well-attested facts "rendered it certain and notorious that those persons were, with much rancour and bitterness, disaffected to the American cause;"--for which reason they were requested to go and remain in durance at Winchester, in Virginia. How they protested at Philadelphia against being taken into custody--protested again at the Pennsylvania line against being carried out of that state--protested again at the Maryland line against being taken into Virginia--and ended by protesting at Winchester against everything in general--it is all written in the Book of the Chronicles of the Valley of Virginia, by Mr. Samuel Kercheval, and also in an interesting Philadelphia publication, "Friends in Exile." To this day the old sun-dial in the garden of "Bousch's Tavern" has upon it the inscription:

"_Exul patria causa libertates_" with the names of the unfortunate exiles written under it--always provided that the dial itself remains, and the rain, and snow, and sun, have not blotted out the words. That they were there, the present chronicler knows upon good authority.

How the exiles pa.s.sed their time at Winchester, and finally returned, will, some day, be embodied in authentic history.

It was many years after the quaker inroad; in fact the eighteenth century, with all its philosophical, political, and scientific "protests" everywhere, was nearly dead and gone, when another scene occurred at Bousch's tavern, which history knows something of. As that august muse, however, does not bury herself with personal details, we will briefly refer to this occurrence.

It was about mid-day, then, when a carriage, with travelling trunks behind it, and a white, foreign-looking driver and footman on the seat before, drew rein in front of the old hostelry we have described.

The footman descended from his perch, and approaching the door of the carriage, opened it, and respectfully a.s.sisted two gentlemen to alight. These gentlemen were dressed with elegant simplicity.

The first had an oval face, which was full of good-humor, and in which an imaginative eye might have discerned an odd resemblance to a _pear_; the second, who seemed to be his brother, was more sedate, and did not smile.

The gentlemen entered the inn, and asked if dinner could be furnished.

The landlord replied that nothing could be easier, and called their attention to a noise which issued from the next room.

The elder gentleman, whose accent had indicated his foreign origin, approached the door which led into the dining-room, followed by his companion.

They looked in.

A long table, covered with a profusion of everything which the most robust appet.i.te could desire, was filled with ploughmen, rough farmers, hunters from the neighboring hills, and a nondescript cla.s.s, which were neither farmers, ploughmen, nor hunters, but made their living by conveying huge teams from town to town. They were travelling merchants--not wagoners simply, as might have been supposed from their garments full of straw, and the huge whips which lay beside them on the floor. When they chewed their food, these worthies resembled horses masticating ears of corn; when they laughed, they made the windows rattle.

The good-humored traveller shook his head; over the face of his companion pa.s.sed a disdainful smile, which did not escape the landlord.

As the elder turned round, he observed his servant inscribing their names in the tavern-book. He would have stopped him, but he had already written the names.

He thereupon turned to the landlord.

Could they not have a private room?

Hum!--it was contrary to rule.

They wanted to dine.

Could they not make up their minds to join the company?

The younger traveller could not, and would not--a room.

The landlord a.s.sumed a dogged expression, and replied that he made no distinction among his guests. What was good enough for one was good enough for all.

Then, the young traveller said, he would not stay in such a place.

The host replied, that he might go and welcome--the sooner the better--he wanted no lofty foreign gentlemen with their airs, etc.

The two gentlemen bowed with grave politeness, and made a sign to their servants, who came forward, looking with terrible frowns at Boniface.

Prepare the carriage to set out again--they would not dine there.

How Monseigneur would go on in spite of--

Enough--Monseigneur would consult them when it was necessary. Harness the horses again.

The result of which command was, that in ten minutes the two gentlemen were again upon the road.

The landlord watched them, with a frown, as they departed. He then bethought him of the book where the servant had inscribed their names, and opened it. On the page was written:

"MR. LOUIS PHILLIPPE, "MR. MONTPENSIER, PARIS."

The landlord had driven from his establishment the future king of the French, and his brother, because they wanted a private apartment to dine in.

The common version that the Duke was personally a.s.saulted, and turned out, is a mere fiction--our own account is the proper and true one.

So Bousch's Tavern was only fated to be historical, when Mr. Jinks approached it--that character having not yet been attached to it.

Whether the absence of such a.s.sociations affected the larder in Mr.

Jinks' opinion, we cannot say--probably not, however.

Certain is it that Jinks entered with dignity, and accosted the fat, ruddy, German landlord, Mr. Bousch, and proceeding to do what a quarter of a century afterwards a Duke imitated him in, asked for a private chamber. Mr. Bousch seemed to see nothing improper in this request, and even smiled an a.s.sent when Jinks, still scowling, requested that a measure of Jamaica rum might be dispatched before him, to his chamber.

Jinks then strolled out to the pathway before the tavern, and looked around him.

Suddenly there came out of the stable yard a young man, mounted on a s.h.a.ggy horse, which young man was clad in a forest costume, and held a rifle in his hand.

Jinks directed a terrible glance toward him, and started forward.

As the horseman came out of the gateway, he found the road obstructed by Mr. Jinks, whose drawn sword was in his hand.

"Back! rash youth!" cried Jinks, with terrible emphasis, "or this sword shall split thy carca.s.s--back!"

And the speaker flashed the sword so near to Cloud's eyes that he tossed up his head and nearly reared.

Verty had been gazing at the sky, and was scarcely conscious of Mr.

Jinks' presence;--but the movement made by Cloud aroused him. He looked at the sword wonderingly.

"Stand back!" cried Jinks, "or thou art dead, young man! Turn your horse into that receptacle of animals again, and go not toward the Bower of Nature!"

"Anan?" said the young man, calmly.