The Last of the Foresters Part 88

Mounted upon Fodder, who was sleek and in high spirits, owing to a good night's rest and a plentiful supply of his favorite provender, Mr. Jinks remained for a moment irresolute before the door of the hostelry, revolving in his mind various and conflicting thoughts of love and war.

Should he go on his handsome animal, and enact the little drama, which he had arranged in his mind, with Miss Sallianna at the Bower of Nature? Should he, on this morning, advance to victory and revenge in that direction? Or should he go and challenge his enemy, Verty, and make his name glorious forever?

These conflicting ideas chased themselves through Mr. Jinks' mind, and rendered him irresolute.

He was interrupted in the midst of them by a voice, laughing and sonorous, which cried from the direction of the gateway:

"Hey, there! What now, Jinks'? What thoughts occupy your mind, my dear fellow?"

And Ralph came out from the yard of the tavern, mounted upon his handsome animal, as fresh and bright-looking as himself.

"I was reflecting, sir," said Mr. Jinks, "I have much to occupy me to-day."

"Ah? Well, set about it--set about it! Don't you know that the great element of success in life, from killing a mosquito to winning an empress, is to strike at once, and at the right moment? Go on, Jinks, my boy, and luck to you!"

"Thanks, sir," replied Mr. Jinks--"I hope I shall have luck."

"Of course, because you have genius! What is luck?" cried Ralph, bending down to smooth the glossy neck of his animal, and laughing gaily,--"why, nothing but a word! Luck, sir, is nothing--genius everything. Luck throws her old shoe after, as says the proverb; but genius catches it, and conquers. Come, you are good at everything, let us have a race!"

"No, I thank you," said Mr. Jinks, drawing back; "I have business, sir--important business, sir!"

"Have you?" said Ralph, restraining his desire to lay the lash of his whip over Fodder's back, and so inaugurate a new Iliad of woes for Mr.

Jinks. "Then go on in your course, my dear fellow. I am going to see a young lady, who really is beginning to annoy me."

And the mercurial young fellow pa.s.sed from laughter to smiles, and even to something suspiciously resembling a sigh.

"Farewell, my dear Jinks," he added, becoming gay again; "fortune favors the brave, recollect. I wish I could believe it," he added, laughing.

And touching his horse, Ralph set forward toward the Bower of Nature, and consequently toward Miss f.a.n.n.y.

"There goes a young man who is in love," said Mr. Jinks, with philosophic dignity; "regularly caught by a pair of black eyes. Boy!"

added Mr. Jinks, after the manner of Coriola.n.u.s, "he don't know 'em as I do. He's looking out for happiness--I for revenge!"

And Mr. Jinks scowled at a stable-boy until the terrified urchin hung his head in awe, respect, and admiration. The great militaire was not superior to humanity, and even this triumph elated him. He set forth, therefore, on Fodder, feeling like a conqueror.

If this veracious history were a narrative of the life and adventures of Mr. Jinks alone, we might follow the great conspirator in his various movements on this eventful day. We might show how he perambulated the town of Winchester on his n.o.ble steed, like a second Don Quixote, mounted for the nonce upon the courser of Sancho Panza, while Rosinante recovered from his bruises. Though the ill.u.s.tration might fail if carried further, inasmuch as Mr. Jinks encountered no windmills, and indeed met with no adventures worth relating, still we might speak of his prying inquisition into every movement of the hostile Irish--detail his smiling visits, in the character of spy, to numerous domicils, and relate at length the manner in which he procured the information which the n.o.ble knight desired. All this we might do; but is it necessary? Not always does the great historic muse fill up the flaws of story, leaving rather much to the imagination.

And in the present instance, we might justly be accused of undue partiality. We are not sure that some of our kind readers might not go further still, and declare in general terms, that none of Mr. Jinks'

adventures were worth telling--Mr. Jinks himself being a personage wholly unworthy of attention.

To critics of this last description, we would say in deprecation of their strictures--Friends, the world is made up of a number of odd personages, as the animal kingdom is of singular, and not wholly pleasant creatures. Just as the scarabaeus and the ugly insect are as much a part of animated nature as the golden-winged b.u.t.terfly, and humming-bird, and n.o.ble eagle, so are the cla.s.ses, represented partly by our friend, as human as the greatest and the best. As the naturalist, with laborious care, defines the characteristics of the ugly insect, buzzing, and stinging, and preying on the weaker, so must the writer give a portion of his attention to the microscopic bully, braggart, and boasting coward of the human species. In the one case, it is _science_--in the other, _art_.

But still we shall not give too much s.p.a.ce to Mr. Jinks, and shall proceed to detail very briefly the result of his explorations.

The great conspirator had, by the hour of eventide, procured all the information he wished. That information led Mr. Jinks to believe that, on the following day, the opposing races would turn out in numbers, far exceeding those on any previous occasion. They would have a grand pageant:--St. Patrick would meet St. Michael in deadly conflict, and the result would undoubtedly overwhelm one of the combatants with defeat, elevating the other to the summit of joy and victory.

It was Mr. Jinks' object to ensure the success of the worthy St.

Michael, and prostrate the great St. Patrick in the dust. But this was not all. Mr. Jinks further desired to procure an adequate revenge upon his friend O'Brallaghan. To overwhelm with defeat and dismay the party to which his enemy belonged, was not enough--any common man could invent so plain a course as that. It was Mr. Jinks' boast, privately, and to himself be it understood, that he would arrange the details of an original and refined revenge--a revenge which should, in equal degree, break down the strength and spirit of his enemy, and elevate the inventor to the niche of a great creative genius.

By the hour of nine that night all was arranged; and, after laboring for an hour or more at some mysterious employment, in the secresy of his apartment, Mr. Jinks descended, and ordered Fodder to be saddled.

Under his arm he carried a bundle of some size; and this bundle was placed carefully before him on the animal.

This done, Mr. Jinks went forth cautiously into the night.

Let us follow him.

He proceeds carefully toward the western portion of the town; then suddenly turns a corner, and goes northward; then changes his course, and takes his way eastward. This is to throw enemies off the track.

Half an hour's ride brings him in the neighborhood of Mistress O'Calligan's.

What does he hear? A voice singing;--the voice of no less a personage than Mr. O'Brallaghan.

The conspirator retraces his steps for some distance--dismounts--ties Fodder to a tree-trunk; and then, with his bundle under his arm, creeps along in the shadow toward the cabin.

At Mrs. O'Calligan's door, sitting upon the railing, he perceives the portly figure of Mr. O'Brallaghan, who is singing a song of his own composition; not the ditty which has come down to modern times connected with this gentleman's name--but another and more original madrigal. The popular ditty, we have every reason to believe, was afterwards written by Mr. Jinks, in derision and contempt of Mr.

O'Brallaghan.

Mr. Jinks creeps up; diabolical and gloomy thoughts agitate his soul; and when a night-cap appears at an opening in the shutter, and a fluttering voice exclaims, "Oh, now--really! Mr. O'Brallaghan," the hidden spectator trembles with jealousy and rage.

A colloquy then ensues between the manly singer and the maiden, which we need not repeat. It is enough to say, that Mr. O'Brallaghan expresses disapprobation at the coldness of the lady.

The lady replies, that she respects and esteems Mr. O'Brallaghan, but never, never can be his, owing to the fact that she is another's.

Mr. Jinks starts with joy, and shakes his fist--from the protecting shadow--triumphantly at the poor defeated wooer.

The wooer, in turn, grows cold and defiant; he upbraids the lady; he charges her with entertaining a pa.s.sion for the rascal and coward Jinks.

This causes the lady to repel the insulting accusation with hauteur.

Mr. O'Brallaghan thinks, and says, thereupon, that she is a cruel and unnatural woman, and unworthy of affection or respect.

Mistress O'Calligan wishes, in reply, to know if Mr. O'Brallaghan means to call her a woman.

Mr. O'Brallaghan replies that he does, and that if Mr. Jinks were present, he would exterminate that gentleman, as some small exhibition of the state of his feelings at being thus insulted by the worst and most hard-hearted of her s.e.x.

After which, Mr. O'Brallaghan clenches his hands with threatening vehemence, and brushing by the concealed Jinks, who makes himself as small as possible, disappears, muttering vengeance.

Mr. Jinks is happy, radiant, triumphant, and as he watches the retreating wooer, his frame shakes with sombre merriment. Then he turns toward the window, and laughs with cautious dignity.

The lady, who is just closing the window, starts and utters an exclamation of affright. This, however, is disregarded by Mr. Jinks, who draws near, and stands beneath the window.

Mistress O'Calligan considers it necessary to state that she is in such a taking, and to ask who could have thought it. Mr. Jinks does not directly reply to this question, but, reaching up, hands in the bundle, and commences a whispered conversation. The lady is doubtful, fearful--Mr. Jinks grows more eloquent. Finally, the lady melts, and when Mr. Jinks clasps, rapturously, the red hand hanging out, he has triumphed.

In fifteen minutes he is on his way back to the tavern, chuckling, shaking, and triumphant.

All is prepared.