Part 25 (1/2)
Battersleigh squared around and looked at him soberly. ”Ned,” said he, ”ye're a dethractor of innycince. Batty ould! Listen to me, boy!
It's fifty years younger I am to-day than when I saw ye last. I'm younger than ye ivver saw me in all your life before.”
”And what and where was the fountain?” said Franklin, as he seated himself at his desk.
”The one fountain of all on earth, me boy--Succiss--succiss! The two dearest things of life are Succiss and Revinge. I've found thim both.
Shure, pfwhat is that gives one man the lofty air an' the overlookin'
eye, where another full his ekil in inches fears to draw the same breath o' life with him? Succiss, succiss, me boy! Some calls it luck, though most lays it to their own shupayrior merit. For Batty, he lays it to nothin' whativver, but takes it like a philosopher an' a gintleman.”
”Well, I suppose you don't mind my congratulating you on your success, whatever it may be,” said Franklin, as he began to busy himself about his work at the desk. ”You're just a trifle mysterious, you know.”
”There's none I'd liever have shake me by the hand than yoursilf, Ned,”
said Battersleigh, ”the more especially by this rayson, that ye've nivver believed in ould Batty at all, but thought him a visionary schamer, an' no more. Didn't ye, now, Ned; on your honour?”
”No,” said Franklin stoutly. ”I've always known you to be the best fellow in the world.”
”Tut, tut!” said Battersleigh. ”Ye're dodgin' the issue, boy. But pfwhat wud ye say now, Ned, if I should till ye I'd made over tin thousand pounds of good English money since I came to this little town?”
”I should say,” said Franklin calmly, as he opened an envelope, ”that you had been dreaming again.”
”That's it! That's it!” cried Battersleigh. ”Shure ye wud, an' I knew it! But come with me to bank this mornin' an' I'll prove it all to ye.”
Something in his voice made Franklin wheel around and look at him.
”Oh, do be serious, Battersleigh,” said he.
”It's sayrious I am, Ned, I till ye. Luk at me, boy. Do ye not see the years droppin' from me? Succiss! Revinge! Cas.h.!.+ Earth holds no more for Batty. I've thim all, an' I'm contint. This night I retire dhrunk, as a gintleman should be. To-morrow I begin on me wardrobe.
I'm goin' a longish journey, lad, back to ould England. I'm a long-lost son, an' thank G.o.d! I've not been discovered yit, an' hope I'll not be fer a time.
”I'll till ye a secret, which heretofore I've always neglicted to mintion to anybody. Here I'm Henry Battersleigh, agent of the British-American Colonization Society. On t'other side I might be Cuthbert Allen Wingate-Galt. An' Etcetera, man; etcetera, to G.o.d knows what. Don't mintion it, Ned, till I've gone away, fer I've loved the life here so--I've so enjoyed bein' just Batty, agent, and so forth!
Belave me, Ned, it's much comfortabler to be merely a' And-so-forth thin it is to be an' Etcetera. An' I've loved ye so, Ned! Ye're the n.o.blest n.o.bleman I ivver knew or ivver expict to know.”
Franklin sat gazing at him without speech, and presently Battersleigh went on.
”It's a bit of a story, lad,” said he kindly. ”Ye see, I've been a poor man all me life, ye may say, though the nephew of one of the richest women in the United Kingdom--an' the stingiest. Instid of doin' her obvayus juty an' supportin' her nephew in becomin' station, she marries a poor little lordlet boy, an' forsakes me entirely.
Wasn't it hijjus of her? There may have been raysons satisfyin' to her own mind, but she nivver convinced me that it was Christian conduct on her part. So I wint with the Rile Irish, and fought fer the Widdy. So what with likin' the stir an' at the same time the safety an' comfort o' the wars, an' what with now an' thin a flirtashun in wan colour or another o' the human rainbow, with a bit of sport an' ridin' enough to kape me waist, I've been in the Rile Irish ivver since--whin not somewhere ilse; though mostly, Ned, me boy, stone broke, an' ownin' no more than me bed an' me arms. Ye know this, Ned.”
”Yes,” said Franklin, ”I know, Battersleigh. You've been a proud one,”
”Tut, tut, me boy; nivver mind. Ye'll know I came out here to make me fortune, there bein' no more fightin' daycint enough to engage the attention of a gintleman annywhere upon the globe. I came to make me fortune. An' I've made it. An' I confiss to ye with contrition, Ned, me dear boy, I'm Cubberd Allen Wiggit-Galt, Etcetera !”
After his fas.h.i.+on Franklin sat silent, waiting for the other's speech.
”Ned,” said Battersleigh at length, ”till me, who's the people of the intire worrld that has the most serane belief in their own shupayriority?”
”New-Yorkers,” said Franklin calmly.
”Wrong. Ye mustn't joke, me boy. No. It's the English. Shure, they're the consatedest people in the whole worrld. An' now, thin, who's the wisest people in the worrld?”
”The Americans,” said Franklin promptly again.
”Wrong agin. It's thim same d----d domineerin' idjits, the yally-headed subjecks o' the Widdy. An' pfwhy are they wise?”