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 a.s.semble 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 ap.r.o.n full of--what do you think?"

"Indulgences?" said Ralph.

"No, sir!"

"What then?"

"Potatoes again."

"Potatoes! Sheeley with her ap.r.o.n 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 b.l.o.o.d.y noses and cracked crowns, and pa.s.s 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 ap.r.o.n 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!"