“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.