10. CHAPTER X.
VERTY MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. JINKS.
Just as Verty was making this latter observation, his smiling
eyes fixed on the mansion before him, he heard a voice at his
feet, so to speak, which had the effect of bringing him to earth
once more, and this voice said, loftily—
“You seem to be interested, sir—handsome house, sir—very
handsome house, sir—also the occupants thereof.”
Verty looked, and descried a gentleman of very odd appearance,
who was looking at him intently. This gentleman was
slender of limb, and tall; his lower extremities were clad in a
tight pair of short breeches, beneath which, searlet stockings
plunged themselves into enormous shoes, decorated with huge
rosettes; his coat was half-military, half-fop; and a long sword
buckled round his waist, knocked against his fantastic grasshopper
legs. His hair was frizzled; his countenance, a most extraordinary
one; his manner, a mixture of the hero and the bully, of
noble dignity and truculent swagger, as if Ancient Pistol had
taken the part of Coriolanus, and had not become proficient
wholly in his lofty personation.
When this gentleman walked, his long sword bobbed, as we
have said, against his legs; when he bowed, his attitude was full
of dignity; when he grimaced, he presented an appearance which
would have made Punchinello serious, and induced a circus clown
to fall into convulsions of despair.
This was the figure which now stood before Verty, and caused
that young man to lower his eyes from the roof and the pigeons.
Verty looked at the gentleman for a moment, and smiled.
“It is a handsome house,” he said.
“Handsome?” said the tall gentleman, with dignity. “I believe
you. That house, sir, is the finest I ever saw.”
“Is it?” said Verty.
“Yes, sir.”
Verty nodded.
“I am a traveller, sir.”
“Are you?”
“I am,” said the military gentleman, solemnly. “I have been
everywhere, sir; and even in Philadelphia and Paris there is
nothing like that house.”
“Indeed?” Verty said, surveying the remarkable edifice.
“Do you see the portico?” said the gentleman, frowning.
“Yes,” said Verty.
“That, sir, is exactly similar to the Acropolis—Pantheon at
Rome.
“Eh?” said Verty.
“Yes, sir; and then the wings—do you see the wings?”
“Plainly,” said Verty.
“Those, sir, are modeled on the State-House in Paris, and are
intended to shelter the youthful damsels, here assembled, as the
wings of a hen do the chickens of her bosom—hem! Cause and
effect, sir—philosophy and poetry unite to render this edifice the
paragon and brag of architectural magnificence.”
“Anan?” said Verty.
“I see you speak French.”
“That ain't French.”
“No? Then it's something else. Going up there?”
“Yes,” said Verty.
“Fine turkey that. For the old lady?”
“Who's the old lady?”
“Old Mrs. Scowley—a model of the divine sex, sir.”
“No, it ain't for her,” said Verty, smiling.
“For Miss Sallianna?”
“Who's that?”
“I see, sir, that you are not acquainted with this still more
divine specimen of the—hum—I said that once before. Miss
Sallianna, sir, is the beautiful sister of the respected Scowley.”
“And who is here besides, if you please?” said Verty.
“A number of charming young ladies, sir. It is a seminary,
sir,—an abode of science and accomplishments generally, sir;—the
delights of philosophy, sir, take up their chosen dwelling here,
and—stop! there's my sonl's idol! Jinks will never have
another!”
And Mr. Jinks kissed his hand, and grimaced at a young lady
who appeared at the gate, with a book in her hand.
This young lady was Redbud.
