The Last of the Foresters - John Esten Cooke
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Verty arrived at the fluttering doorway of O'Brallaghan's shop, and
encountered the proprietor upon the threshold, who made him a low bow.
His errand was soon told, and O'Brallaghan entered into extensive
explanations and profuse apologies for the delay in sending home Mr.
Verty's suit left with him. It would have received "attinshun" that
very morning--it was in the back room. Would Mr. Verty "inter?"
Verty entered accordingly, followed by the stately Longears, who
rubbed his nose against O'Brallaghan's stockings as he passed,
afterwards shaking his head, as if they were not to his taste.
Verty found himself opposite to Mr. Jinks, who was driving his needle
as savagely as ever, and, with a tremendous frown, chaunting the then
popular ditty of the "Done-over Tailor." Whether this was in gloomy
satire upon his own occupation we cannot say, but certainly the lover
of the divine Miss Sallianna presented an appearance very different
from his former one, at the Bower of Nature. His expression was as
dignified and lofty as before; but as to costume, the least said about
Mr. Jinks the better. We may say, however, that it consisted mainly
of a pair of slippers and a nightcap, from the summit of which latter
article of clothing drooped a lengthy tassel.
On Verty's entrance, Mr. Jinks started up with a terrific frown;
or rather, to more accurately describe the movement which he made,
uncoiled his legs, and raised his stooping shoulders.
"How, sir!" he cried, "is my privacy again invaded!"
"I came to get my clothes," said Verty, preoccupied with his own
thoughts, and very indifferent to the hero's ire.
"That's no excuse, sir!"
"Excuse?" said Verty.
"Yes, sir--I said excuse; this is my private apartment, and I have
told O'Brallaghan that it should not be invaded, sir!"
These indignant words brought Mr. O'Brallaghan to the door, whereupon
Mr. Jinks repeated his former observation, and declared that it was an
outrage upon his dignity and his rights.
O'Brallaghan displayed some choler at the tone which Mr. Jinks used,
and his Irish blood began to rise. He stated that Mr. Verty had come
for his clothes, and should have them. Mr. Jinks replied, that he
had'nt said anything about Mr. Verty; but was contending for a
principle. Mr. O'Brallaghan replied to this with an observation which
was lost in his neck-handkerchief, but judging from as much as was
audible, in defiance and contempt of Jinks. Jinks observed, with
dignity and severity, that there were customers in the store, who were
gazing at Mr. Verty, just as he was about to disrobe. O'Brallaghan
muttered thereupon to himself some hostile epithets, and hastily
returned to wait upon the customers, leaving Mr. Jinks dodging to
avoid the eyes of the new-comers, but still preserving an expression
of haughty scorn.
Meanwhile Verty had descried his old forest suit lying upon a shelf,
and, laying down his rifle, had nearly indued his limbs therewith. In
fifteen minutes he had completed the change in his costume, and stood
before Mr. Jinks the same forest-hunter which he had been, before the
purchase of the elegant clothes he had just taken off. Instead of
rosetted shoes, moccasins; instead of silk and velvet, leather and
fur. On his head, his old white hat had taken the place of the
fashionable chapeau. Verty finished, by taking off the bow of ribbon
which secured his hair behind, and scattering the profuse curls over
his shoulders.
"Now," he sighed, looking in a mirror which hung upon the wall, "I
feel more like myself."
Jinks gazed at him with dignified emotion.
"You return to the woods, sir," he said; "would that I could make up
my mind to follow your example. This man, O'Brallaghan, however--"
And Mr. Jinks completed his sentence by savagely clipping a piece of
cloth with the huge shears he held, as though the enemy's neck were
between them.
Verty scarcely observed this irate movement.
"I'll leave the clothes here," he said; "I'm going now--good-bye."
And taking up his rifle, the young man went out, followed by Longears,
who, to the last, bent his head over his shoulder, and gazed upon Mr.
Jinks with curiosity and interest.
Jinks, with a savage look at O'Brallaghan, was about to return to his
work, when a letter, protruding from the pocket of the coat which
Verty had just taken off, attracted his attention, and he pounced upon
it without hesitation.
Jinks had recognized the handwriting of Miss Sallianna in the address,
and in an instant determined to use no ceremony.
He tore it open, and read, with savage scowls and horrible contortions
of the visage, that which follows. Unfortunate Jinks--reading private
letters is a hazardous proceeding: and this was what the hero read:
"BOWER OF NATURE,
AT THE MATIN HOUR.
"CHARMING, AND, ALAS!
TOO DANGEROUS YOUNG MAN:
"Since seeing thee, on yester eve, my feelings have greatly changed in
intensity, and I fluctuate beneath an emotion of oblivious delight.
Alas! we young, weak women, try in vain to obstruct the gurgling of
the bosom; for I perceive that even I am not proof against the arrows
of the god Diana. My heart has thrilled, my dearest friend, ever since
you departed, yester eve, with a devious and intrinsic sensation of
voluminous delight. The feelings cannot be concealed, but must be
impressed in words; or, as the great Milton says, in his Bucoliks,
the o'er-fraught heart would break! Love, my dear Mr. Verty, is
contiguous--you cannot be near the beloved object without catching the
contagion, and to this fact I distribute that flame which now flickers
with intense conflagration in my bosom. Why, cruel member of the other
sex! did you evade the privacy of our innocent and nocturnal retreat,
turning the salubrious and maiden emotions of my bosom into agonizing
delight and repressible tribulation! Could you not practice upon
others the wiles of your intrinsic charms, and spare the weak
Sallianna, whose only desire was to contemplate the beauties of nature
in her calm retreat, where a small property sufficed for all her
mundane necessities? Alas! but yester morn I was cheerful and
invigorating--with a large criterion of animal spirits, and a bosom
which had never sighed responsible to the flattering vows of beaux.
But now!--ask me not how I feel, in thinking of _the person_ who has
touched my indurate heart. Need I say that the individual in question
has only to demand that heart, to have it detailed to him in all
its infantile simplicity and diurnal self-reliance? Do not--do
not--diffuse it!
"I have, during the whole period of my mundane pre-existence, always
been troubled with beaux and admirers. I have, in vain, endeavored to
escape from their fascinating diplomas, but they have followed me, and
continued to prosecute me with their adorous intentions. None of
them could ever touch my fanciful disposition, which has exalted an
intrinsic and lofty beau--idle to itself. I always had to reply, when
they got down upon their knees to me, and squeezed my hands, that I
could not force my sensations; and though I should ever esteem them
as friends, I could not change my condition of maiden meditation and
exculpation for the agitation of matrimonial engagements. I need not
say that now my feelings have changed, and you, Mr. Verty, have become
the idle of my existence. You are yet young, but with a rare and
intrinsic power of intellect. In future, you will not pay any more
intention to that foolish little Reddy, who is very well in her way,
but unworthy of a great and opprobrious intelligence like yours. She
is a mere child, as I often tell her, and cannot love.
"Come to your devoted Sallianna immediately, and let us discurse the
various harmonies of nature. I have given orders not to admit any
of my numerous beaux, especially that odious Mr. Jinks, who is my
abomination. I will tell Reddy that your visit is to me, and she will
not annoy you, especially as she is in love with a light young man who
comes to see Fanny, her cousin, Mr. Ashley.
"Come to one who awaits thee, and who assigns herself
"Your devoted,
"SALLIANNA."
Jinks frowned a terrible frown, and ground his teeth.
For a moment, he stood gazing with profound contempt upon the
letter which he had just read; then seizing his shears, snipped the
unfortunate sheet into microscopic fragments, all the while frowning
with terrible intensity.
The letter destroyed, Jinks stood for a moment with folded arms,
scowling and reflecting.
Suddenly he strode to the other side of the room, kicking off his
slippers as he went, and hurling his night-cap at the mirror.
"Yes!" he cried, grinding his teeth, "I'll do it, and without
delay--perfidious woman!"
In ten minutes Mr. Jinks had assumed his usual fashionable costume,
and buckled on his sword. A savage flirt of his locks completed
his toilette, and in all the splendor of his scarlet stockings and
embroidered waistcoat, he issued forth.
CHAPTER XXIX.
INTERCHANGE OF COMPLIMENTS.
O'Brallaghan, as he passed through the shop, requested to be informed
where Mr. Jinks was going.
Jinks stopped, and scowled at Mr. O'Brallaghan, thereby intimating
that his, Jinks', private rights were insolently invaded by a coarse
interrogatory.
O'Brallaghan observed, that if Mr. Jinks was laboring under the
impression that he, O'Brallaghan, was to be frowned down by an
individual of his description, he was greatly mistaken. And by way of
adding to the force of this observation, Mr. O'Brallaghan corrugated
his forehead in imitation of his adversary.
Jinks replied, that he was equally indifferent to the scowls of Mr.
O'Brallaghan, and expressed his astonishment and disgust at being
annoyed, when he was going out to take some exercise for the benefit
of his health.
O'Brallaghan informed Mr. Jinks that the going out had nothing to do
with it, and that he, Jinks, knew very well that he, O'Brallaghan,
objected to nothing but the tone assumed toward himself by the said
Jinks, whose airs were not to be endured, and, in future, would not
be, by him. If this was not satisfactory, he, the said Jinks, might
take the law of him, or come out and have it decided with shillalies,
either of which courses were perfectly agreeable to him, O'Brallaghan.
Whereupon, Jinks expanded his nostril, and said that gentlemen did not
use the vulgar Irish weapon indicated.
To which O'Brallaghan replied, that the circumstance in question would
not prevent Mr. Jinks' using the weapon.
A pause followed these words, broken in a moment, however, by Mr.
Jinks, who stated that Mr. O'Brallaghan was a caitiff.
O'Brallaghan, growing very red in the face, observed that Mr. Jinks
owed his paternity to a "gun."
Jinks, becoming enraged thereupon, drew his sword, and declared his
immediate intention of ridding the earth of a scoundrel and a villain.
Which intention, however, was not then carried into execution, owing
to the timely arrival of a red-faced, though rather handsome Irish
lady of twenty-five or thirty, who, in the broadest Celtic, commanded
the peace, and threatened the combatants with a hot flat-iron, which
she brandished in her stalwart fist.
O'Brallaghan laid down the stick which he had seized, and ogled the
lady, declaring in words that the wish of mistress O'Callighan was
law to him, and that further, he had no desire to fight with the
individual before him, who had been making use of abusive and
threatening language, and had even drawn his skewer.
Jinks stated that he would have no more altercation with an individual
of Mr. O'Brallaghan's standing in society--he would not demean
himself--and from that moment shook the dust of his, O'Brallaghan's,
establishment from his, Jinks', feet. Which declaration was
accompanied with a savage kick upon the door.
O'Brallaghan congratulated himself upon the extreme good fortune for
himself involved in Mr. Jinks' decision, and hoped he would carefully
observe the friendly and considerate advice he now gave him, which
was, never to show his nose in the shop again during the period of his
mundane existence.
Whereupon Jinks, annihilating his adversary with a terrific frown,
stated his intention to implicitly observe the counsel given him, and
further, to have revenge.
In which O'Brallaghan cheerfully acquiesced, observing that the
importance attached by himself to the threats of Mr. Jinks was exactly
commensurate with the terror which would be caused him by the kick of
a flea.
And so, with mutual and terrible frowns, this alarming interview
terminated: Mr. Jinks grimacing as he departed with awful menace, and
getting his grasshopper legs entangled in his sword; Mr. O'Brallaghan
remaining behind, though not behind the counter, paying devoted
attention to the ruddy and handsome lady with the hot flat-iron,
Mistress Judith O'Callighan, who watched the retreating Jinks with
tender melancholy.
CHAPTER XXX.
WHAT OCCURRED AT BOUSCH'S TAVERN.
Let us follow Mr. Jinks.
That gentleman went on his way, reflecting upon the step which he
had just taken, and revolving in his mind the course which he should
pursue in future.
The result of his reflections was, that a matrimonial engagement would
just answer his purpose, especially with a lady possessing a "small
property--" at which words, as they left his muttering lips, Jinks
frowned.
It was Miss Sallianna's favorite phrase.
Miss Sallianna!
The tumult which arose in Jinks' breast upon the thought of that young
lady's treachery toward himself occurred to him, may, as our brother
historians are fond of saying, "be better imagined than described."
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 grassy 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, passing 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 passed 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 assisted 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 appetite could desire, was filled with ploughmen, rough
farmers, hunters from the neighboring hills, and a nondescript class,
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 passed 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 assumed 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 assaulted, 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 associations 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 assent 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
shaggy 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 carcass--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.
"So you pretend not to understand, do you! Vile caitiff! advance
one step at your peril--try to go and complete arrangements for a
matrimonial engagement at the Bower of Nature, and thou diest!"
Verty was getting angry.
"Mr. Jinks, you'd better get out of the way," he said, calmly.
"Never! stand back! Attempt to push your animal toward me, and I
slaughter him. Base caitiff! Know that the rival you have yonder is
myself! Know that she loves you not, and is now laughing at you,
however much she may have made you believe she loved you! She is a
wretch!"
Verty thought Mr. Jinks spoke of Redbud--the dominant idea again--and
frowned.
"Yes! a perfidious, unfeeling traitoress," observed Mr. Jinks,
grimacing terribly; "and if thou makest a single step toward her, I
will spit thee on my sword!"
Verty cocked his rifle, and placing the muzzle thereof on the Jinks'
breast, made a silent movement of his head, to the effect, that Mr.
Jinks would consult his personal safety by ceasing to obstruct the
way.
Jinks no sooner heard the click of the trigger, and saw the murderous
muzzle directed towards his breast, than letting his sword fall, he
started back with a horrified expression, crying, "murder!" with all
the strength of his lungs; and even in his terror and excitement
varied this expression by giving the alarm of "fire!"--for what
reason, he always declined to explain, even to his most intimate
friends.
Verty did not even smile, though he remained for a moment motionless,
looking at Mr. Jinks.
Then touching Cloud with his heel, he set forward again, followed by
the dignified Longears. As for Longears, we regret to say, that, on
the occasion in question, he did not comport himself with that high
decorum and stately courtesy which were such distinguishing traits
in his elevated character. His mouth slowly opened--his lips curled
around his long, white teeth, and his visage was shaken with a
nervous tremor, as, looking over his shoulder, he went on in Cloud's
footsteps. Longears was laughing--positively laughing--at Mr. Jinks.
That gentleman ceased crying "fire!" and "murder!" as soon as he came
to the conclusion that there was no danger from the one or the other.
He picked up his sword, looked around him cautiously, and seeing that
no one had observed his flight, immediately assumed his habitual air
of warlike dignity, and extended his hand--which held the hilt of his
undrawn sword--toward Verty. This gesture was so tragic, and replete
with such kingly ferocity, that Mr. Jinks was plainly devoting Verty
to the infernal gods; and the curses trembling on his lips confirmed
this idea.