It was Mr.Jinks' boast, privately, and to himself be it understood, that he would arrange the details of an original and refined revenge--a revenge which should, in equal degree, break down the strength and spirit of his enemy, and elevate the inventor to the niche of a great creative genius.
By the hour of nine that night all was arranged; and, after laboring for an hour or more at some mysterious employment, in the secresy of his apartment, Mr.Jinks descended, and ordered Fodder to be saddled.
Under his arm he carried a bundle of some size; and this bundle was placed carefully before him on the animal.
This done, Mr.Jinks went forth cautiously into the night.
Let us follow him.
He proceeds carefully toward the western portion of the town; then suddenly turns a corner, and goes northward; then changes his course, and takes his way eastward.

This is to throw enemies off the track.
Half an hour's ride brings him in the neighborhood of Mistress O'Calligan's.
What does he hear?
A voice singing;--the voice of no less a personage than Mr.O'Brallaghan.
The conspirator retraces his steps for some distance--dismounts--ties Fodder to a tree-trunk; and then, with his bundle under his arm, creeps along in the shadow toward the cabin.
At Mrs.O'Calligan's door, sitting upon the railing, he perceives the portly figure of Mr.O'Brallaghan, who is singing a song of his own composition; not the ditty which has come down to modern times connected with this gentleman's name--but another and more original madrigal.

The popular ditty, we have every reason to believe, was afterwards written by Mr.Jinks, in derision and contempt of Mr.
O'Brallaghan.
Mr.Jinks creeps up; diabolical and gloomy thoughts agitate his soul; and when a night-cap appears at an opening in the shutter, and a fluttering voice exclaims, "Oh, now--really! Mr.O'Brallaghan," the hidden spectator trembles with jealousy and rage.
A colloquy then ensues between the manly singer and the maiden, which we need not repeat.

It is enough to say, that Mr.O'Brallaghan expresses disapprobation at the coldness of the lady.
The lady replies, that she respects and esteems Mr.O'Brallaghan, but never, never can be his, owing to the fact that she is another's.
Mr.Jinks starts with joy, and shakes his fist--from the protecting shadow--triumphantly at the poor defeated wooer.
The wooer, in turn, grows cold and defiant; he upbraids the lady; he charges her with entertaining a passion for the rascal and coward Jinks.
This causes the lady to repel the insulting accusation with hauteur.
Mr.O'Brallaghan thinks, and says, thereupon, that she is a cruel and unnatural woman, and unworthy of affection or respect.
Mistress O'Calligan wishes, in reply, to know if Mr.O'Brallaghan means to call her a woman.
Mr.O'Brallaghan replies that he does, and that if Mr.Jinks were present, he would exterminate that gentleman, as some small exhibition of the state of his feelings at being thus insulted by the worst and most hard-hearted of her sex.
After which, Mr.O'Brallaghan clenches his hands with threatening vehemence, and brushing by the concealed Jinks, who makes himself as small as possible, disappears, muttering vengeance.
Mr.Jinks is happy, radiant, triumphant, and as he watches the retreating wooer, his frame shakes with sombre merriment.

Then he turns toward the window, and laughs with cautious dignity.
The lady, who is just closing the window, starts and utters an exclamation of affright.