The Girl at the Halfway House Part 25

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?"

"You'll have to tell," said Franklin.

"Then I'll till ye. It's because they have a _sacra fames_ fer all the land on earth."

"They're no worse than we," said Franklin. "Look at our Land-Office records here for the past year."

"Yis, the Yankee is a land-lover, but he wants land so that he may live on it, an' he wants to see it before he gives his money for it. Now, ye go to an Englishman, an' till him ye've a bit of land in the cintre of a lost island in the middle of the Pacific say, an' pfwhat does he do? He'll first thry to stale ut, thin thry to bully ye out of ut; but he'll ind by buyin' ut, at anny price ye've conscience to ask, an'

he'll thrust to Providence to be able to find the island some day.

That's wisdom. I've seen the worrld, me boy, from Injy to the Great American Desert. The Rooshan an' the Frinchman want land, as much land as ye'll cover with a kerchief, but once they get it they're contint.

The Haybrew cares for nothin' beyond the edge of his counter. Now, me Angly-Saxon, he's the prettiest fightin' man on earth, an' he's fightin' fer land, er buyin' land, er stalin' land, the livin' day an'

cintury on ind. He'll own the earth!"

"No foreign Anglo-Saxon will ever own America," said Franklin grimly.

"Well, I'm tellin' ye he'll be ownin' some o' this land around here."

"I infer, Battersleigh," said Franklin, "that you have made a sale."

"Well, yis. A small matter."

"A quarter-section or so?"

"A quarter-towns.h.i.+p or so wud be much nearer," said Battersleigh dryly.

"You don't mean it?"

"Shure I do. It's a fool for luck; allowin' Batty's a fool, as ye've always thought, though I've denied it. Now ye know the railroad's crazy for poppylation, an' it can't wait. It fairly offers land free to thim that'll come live on it. It asks the suffrin' pore o' Yurrup to come an' honour us with their prisince. The railroad offers Batty the Fool fifteen hundred acres o' land at three dollars the acre, if Batty the Fool'll bring settlers to it. So I sinds over to me ould Aunt's country--not, ye may suppose, over the signayture o' Cubberd Allen Wiggit-Galt, but as Henry Battersleigh, agent o' the British American Colonization Society--an' I says to the proper party there, says I, 'I've fifteen hundred acres o' the loveliest land that ivver lay out of dures, an' ye may have it for the trifle o' fifty dollars the acre. Offer it to the Leddy Wiggit,' says I to him; 'she's a philanthropist, an' is fer Bettherin' the Pore' ('savin' pore nephews,'

says I to mesilf). 'The Lady Wiggit,' says I, ''ll be sendin' a s.h.i.+p load o' pore tinnints over here,' says I, 'an' she'll buy this land.

Offer it to her,' says I. So he did. So she did. She tuk it. I'll be away before thim pisints o' hers comes over to settle here, glory be! Now, wasn't it aisy? There's no fools like the English over land, me boy. An' 'twas a simple judgment on me revered Aunt, the Leddy Wiggit."

"But, Battersleigh, look here," said Franklin, "you talk of fifty dollars an acre. That's all nonsense--why, that's robbery. Land is dear here at five dollars an acre."

"Shure it is, Ned," said Battersleigh calmly. "But it's chape in England at fifty dollars."

"Well, but--"

"An' that's not all. I wrote to thim to send me a mere matter of tin dollars an acre, as ivvidence a' good faith. They did so, an' it was most convaynient for settlin' the little bill o' three dollars an acre which the railroad had against me, Batty the Fool."

"It's robbery!" reiterated Franklin.

"It wud 'av' been robbery," said Battersleigh, "had they sint no more than that, for I'd 'av' been defrauded of me just jues. But whut do you think? The murdherin' ould fool, me revered Aunt, the Leddy Wiggit, she grows 'feard there is some intint to rob her of her bargain, so what does she do but sind the entire amount at wance--not knowin', bless me heart an' soul, that she's thus doin' a distinguished kindness to the missin' relative she's long ago forgot! Man, would ye call that robbery? It's Divine Providince, no less! It's justice. I know of no one more deservin' o' such fortune than Battersleigh, late of the Rile Irish, an' now a Citizen o' the World. Gad, but I've a'most a mind to buy a bit of land me own silf, an' marry the Maid o'

the Mill, fer the sake o' roundin' out the play. Man, man, it's happy I am to-day!"

"It looks a good deal like taking advantage of another's ignorance,"

said Franklin argumentatively.

"Sir," said Battersleigh, "it's takin' advantage o' their Wisdom. The land's worth it, as you'll see yoursilf in time. The price is naught.

The great fact is that they who own the land own the earth and its people. 'Tis out of the land an' the sea an' the air that all the wilth must come. Thus saith Batty the Fool. Annyhow, the money's in the bank, an' it's proper dhrunk'll be Batty the Fool this night, an'