Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1886-12-18
IMPORTED BUTLER

AN IMPORTED BUTLER
Mr.. Peleg Y. Atkinson was q good man,
and, il he had been . poor man, he would
have been a happy one. But, unfortunately.
he was rich. and he had gone to Europe-as
the amiable Sir Lepel Griffin once said-to
finish an education that never had been be-
gun at home.
Peleg v. Atkinson, without the "Mr.,s
which, in obedience to what he was assured
was q New York custom, he always had en-
gTaved on his cards, was worth much at the
Of a check. 1t was q great name In the
marts of trade. Third street
knew and honored it, and it was not n
known in Wall street. As / said, he vas
rich; he had skinned the cream off Europe"
as he phrased it, and he had exhausted all
Sauterne at luncheon. when he preferred beer
or ice-water, and Of making q collection Of
modern French pictures. He had a Corot
and q Meissonnier, a Vibert and a Detaille.
He never bought two specimens OF the same
work. He talked of his pictures as
He had orchids, a cellar of
good wine and two pretty daughters, and
yet he was not happy. because Mrs. Peleg v.
Atkinson was not happy.
It is not easy for people accustomed to the
pleasures of being well to do to hear the
weight of riches. When I first knew the At
kinsons they were thoroughly contented.
They drank ice water when they chose;
dined at noon, and corned beef and cab
bage vas a delight to them. On hot days
Mr.. Atkinson threw off his coat after dinner,
stuck a pipe in his mouth and sat in the back
door in bis shirt sleeves, while Clarissa or
Jennie played "Listen to the hooking Bird"
or "Silvery Waves" by way Of refreshing
him before he went down to the Office at the
"Ou sont les neige d'antan!" asks
Villon. And Mr.. Atkinson, in after years Of
often asked the same question:, in
less poetical language, as he thought of those
happy days. Alas! there could fe no more
under the grapevine arbor and smok-
ing the pipe of peace! Mrs. Peleg V. Akin
son would no more make the mint julep with
her own fair hands and come out to waken
him from blissful sleep as he sat in the yard
with a newspaper over his head TO 'keep of
the flies on blissful and drowsy afternoons.
Then Mrs. Atkinson was satisfied that her
four white stone steps were equal in size and
window glass in the whole town of Phila-
more dazzling than hers; but
now-!
Clarissa and Jennie played only Chopin;
could not possibly condescend even to
opera music, although not averse to a dash
into Wagner occasionally. He dined by
candle light, in a dress suit and a stiff white
shirt bosom, which he was always tempted
to cover up with his napkin. He had taken
a house just outside of Washington for the
winter, for Mrs. Atkinson saw no chance Of
making suitable matches for her daughters
in her native city. Tho "best" society was
closed to her; she lived on North Broad street,
and therefore Clarissa and Jennie could not
possibly go to the Assembly ball; and above
all things-outside of heaven, Of course
Mrs. Atkinson preferred what is called
Mrs. Atkinson, who was what is called a
capable woman, had come to know the social
characteristic of American cities as well as
she used to know the points of a good fowl
when she did her own marketing in Phila-
delphia, decided that Washington was tho
best place to begin the matrimonial campaign:
She felt that a foreign establishment was
preferable to an American one and less diff
cult to arrange. The rich Americans, as she
knew, were too uncertain of their own status
to be ready to make what their aristocratic
connections would consider mesalliances.
Titles for Clarissa and Jennie would make all
things easy, and in time she might, with such
prestige, even come to glare at Mrs. Cad
wallader Smythe at the Assembly ball, where
the elect of Philadelphia gathers, at whose
portal she stood, like Moore's Peri, "discon-
solate."
Mrs. Atkinson had acquired a naughty
bearing, studied from Miss Morants Russian
countess in 1.-THE Danichetfs." She was plump
and rosy and imposing, with white hair a Ia
Mime. de Pompadour. She seemed to be a
great lady until she opened her mouth.
~--:--- o-a Inn,io had- hacnmA like their
father, unwilling slaves to splendor. But
they had acquired a knowledge of the peerage,
and they knew the pedigree of the new British
minister to the remotest quartering. 1t was
kind of the family to ask me to spend two
weeks at their house outside of Georgetown,
because it is not often that families of such
quality remember their acquaintance of the
past. I went, and when dear old Mr.. Atkin-
son met me with a brougham at the station
my heart sank. Riches had aged my old
friend: splendor had withered him; the finger
which held the immense seal ring bearing his
coat-of-arms was thin and trembling. There
were more wrinkles in his face than under
the grapevine arbor. His eyes were restless.
but he greeted me with the old-time cordially.
The brougham cushions were heavily scented
with heliotrope, a large crest-a lion couchant
was embroidered everywhere. There were
two men on the box. One Of them, a short,
stout, administered parsonage, in a brown
coat, came down and spoke to Mr.. Atkinson.
"You will not mind seeing to Mr.. Fitz.
patrick's baggage, will you, Ludovic? You'll
see his name on the bags-Mr. Gerald Fitz,
patrick"
The man turned his ruddy face toward me,
and smiled ont of a pair of the most shrewd
and humorous eyes l ever saw.
"Surc, sir, you're al %Irishman; you bave
the look of it, and an Irish gentleman,
too"
am very near to being an 1risbman."
said laughing. II was born there fifty years
ago."
The man laughed.
"You're a dry one" he said. tipping hi.
hat: "vou don't look to be So"
"I'm glad Ludovic has taken a fancy te
you.n he said, sinking back in his seat
sometimes he dislikes people, and it's bard
for us ALL"
looked at him in surprise. MIR. Atkin
sons manner to his employees at the factory
was peremptory in the extreme, too much SO
I had thought. What had wrought thi:
softness!
aIsn't what's-his- name a servant|
Mr.. Atkinson started. as if afraid thai
some one would hear him. Job, We n
talk of him that way. He's che butler. yot
know. He does pretty much what d.
pleases, though. Sometimes he wants Il
drive, and of course l let him. Mrs. Atkinson
imported him. He is very expensive, but b
keeps us up to tho mark, you know. III
knows everything chat we don't know. Be
tween ourselves, / wish I was dead. I'm no
fit for this sort of thing. I nearly disgracet
myself yesterday, when we had ex-Governo'
Jimiams to dine with us, by asking for beel
with the soup. Mary Ann-Mrs. Atkinson
would nave tainted if Ludovic bad no
brought the sherry and pretended not Il
-4ooI ~ Hovnom Mr. AtEinSC.