"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 apron 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!"
"An image," continued Mr. Jinks, not heeding this interruption, "which resembles St. Michael—that is, a hogshead."
"Yes," laughed Ralph, "I understand how a Dutch saint—"
"Is fat; that is natural, sir. They dress him in six pair of pantaloons, which I have heretofore, I am ashamed to say, fabricated,"—Mr. Jinks frowned here,—"then they hang around his neck a rope of sour krout—"
"No, no!" cried Ralph.
"And so parade him," continued Mr. Jinks.