"Well, we won't interchange compliments, my dear fellow," replied Ralph, puffing at his pipe; "go on and explain about the Dutch and Irish--I repeat, that I absolutely know nothing of them." Mr. Jinks sipped his rum, and after a moment's silence, commenced. "You must know," he said, "that for some reason which I cannot explain, there is a quarrel between these people which has lasted a very long time, and it runs to a great height--" "Indeed!" "Yes; and on certain days there is a feeling which can only be characterized by the assertion that the opposite parties desire to suffuse the streets and public places with each other's gory blood!" "No, no!" said Ralph; "is it possible!" "Yes, sir, it is more--it is true," said Mr. Jinks, with dignity. "I myself have been present on such occasions; and the amount of national feeling displayed is--is--worse than mouldy cloth," observed Mr. Jinks, at a loss for a simile, and driven, as he, however, very seldom was, to his profession for an illustration. "I wonder at that," said Ralph; "as bad as mouldy cloth? I never would have thought it!" "Nevertheless it's true--dooms true," said Mr. Jinks; "and there are particular days when the rage of the parties comes up in one opprobrious concentrated mass!" 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 assemble 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 apron full of--what do you think?" "Indulgences?" said Ralph. "No, sir!" "What then?" "Potatoes again." "Potatoes! Sheeley with her apron 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--"