News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1886-05-27
A GUILELESS VETERAN.
A QUEER STORY FOUNDED ON FACT,

No one precisely knew how Mr.. Simon
Buttershaw came to be member of the
Greville Club, but, on the other hand.
no one particularly cared. He was, as a
matter of fact, an original member, but
tie had been abroad for some wears, and
when he returned the character of the
Greville had undergone a very consider
able transformation. 1t had once been
a sober and steady institution, frequent
ed chiefly by barristers, journalists, and
rloh city men, who played mild whist
before dinner and slept comfortably
over the smoking-room fire in the even
ing; bat, for some reason or another,
men about town gifted with cash rather
than with brains took to joining the
Greyille, and it sprang with comparative
suddenness into fashion, and even noto-
rlety. Fast young gentlemen agreed
that 1t was the correct thing to belong
to 1t; the old members dropped off one
by one, and the Greville acquired rep
utatlon as the haunt of gay sparks, who
sat up till unhallowed hours of the
morning, supped off devilled bones and
champagne, and played cards and bill
hards for stakes which would have
grlevously Mortified the old habitues, had
any of them been left to tell the tale. 1t
was at this period that Mr.. Buttershaw
returned from foreign parts, and he
found no difficulty whatever in scraping
an acquaintance, and even an intimacy,
with the new generation. Mr.. Butter
shaw had, in fact, many qualities which
enabled him to shine in the society
which frequented the Greviile. He was
a middle-aged but well-preserved man,
with considerable flow of anecdote
and large and varied experience of life.
He seemed to have plenty of money,
gave capital dinners, drove a smart
phaeton, and always appeared to have
sufficient spare time to Join in any fes-
tivlty which happened to be proposed to
him. But there was one popularity
about Mr.. Buttershaw which endeared
MN to his new associates even more
than all the rest put together, and this
was his persistent ill-luck at cards. Not
that he gambled very high, or lost very
heavily, but he never won; and the
puuters at Greville speedily recognized
the fact that for Buttershaw to sit down
at the card-table meant the distribution
of at least $50 among the company.
Wherefore they voted him a capital fell
low, were always ready to dine with
him, drive with him, and win his mon
ey; and in their hearts looked upon him
as poor pigeon who had been sent
among them by merciful Providence
Tor the express purpose of being plucked.
Now, among the members of the
Greville there were mobiles of high de-
gree, besides baronets of more or less
ancient lineage, and commoners of
wealth and distinction, and with all
these personages Mr.. Buttershaw con-
trived to get, not merely friendly, but
familiar. Thus, when the Duke of ON
mum was making up a shooting party
at Gatherum Park, some intimate friend
was sure to say, ASK Buttershaw; he's
very harmless, and he always loses";
when Sir Hector Flash wanted to enjoy
the society of few stars of burlesque
at Greenwich or Richmond, Buttershaw
was generally invited, for he was never
IN the way, and was invariably willing
to devote himself to the oldest and
plalnest member of the company, thus
smoothing over all manner of unpleas-
ant Jealousies and heartburnings; when
MIR. CrGsus gave a dinner, he always
asked Buttershaw, for he never made
mistake in praising the wrong wines,
and was sure to discover some beauty in
MIR. Crpsus' pictures or china which had
hitherto been overlooked. So Mr.. But
tershaw became a universal favorite,
and the members of the Greville, espe-
clally those who had won money from
him, united in wishing long life and
prosperity to so useful and desirable an
acquaintance.
1t has previously been said that Mr..
Buttershaw gave capital little dinners,
the scene of which was generally in his
comfortable little chambers in Jermyn
street, and on one of these occasions he
invited the Duke of Omnium, Sir Hecf|
tor Flash, Mr.. CrUsus, and one or two
more congenial spirits, to meet his old
friend, General Barnabas, of the United
States Army, who had never been in
England before, and wished to see a lit
tie of London life.
'He's capital old sportsman. Bar
nabas, said Mr. sButtershaw to Sir Hec-
tor, 'has been everywhere, bar Eng
land, and done most things. in fact,
he has only one fault that | know of. y
"And what is thatl" inquired the
Baronet.
"Why, nothing will induce him to
play cards"
"Oh, We'll soon get him over thatp'
"Well, l wish you would, for, of
course, it's a nuisance when one man
insists upon standing out; but don't
think you will be successful. How
ever there's no harm in trying"
The evening duly arrived, and Mr..
Buttershaws guests were presented to |
the General, who received them with |
stately and old fashioned courtesy. He
was a white haired old gentleman. of a |
spare, erect figure, and wore very large |
spectacles, through which he beamed |
upon the company in benevolent and |
genial manner During the meal he
told many curious stories of his adven |
lures, his marked American accent ad- |
ding much to their point, while his re-
freshing innocence of certain subjects
amused his hearers vastly. He had |
never made a bet in his life, had |
only twice entered theatre, and seemed |
to know as much about women as a |
hermit.
''Thls old simpleton will be the death |
of me-" whispered the Baronet to the |
Hon. Paul Punter, who made one of the |
party.
''Hushl" said Mh Punter; "you must !
not chaff him too much. He may have
a revolver in his pistol pocket, though
hp ia guph on ipnnoapt -