Rensselaer Union, Volume 10, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 April 1878 — MR. PERKINS. [ARTICLE]

MR. PERKINS.

Mr. and Mrs. Perepine Paret, Peregrine, junior, and Miss Grace Paret sat at breakfast in their pleasant diningroom overlooking the garden, the avenue, the base-ball ground, and straight across the river to the steeples and. high chimneys that loomed through the mist hanging over the great busy metropolis. Itnadbeen Mrs. Paret’s boast that she had the finest view from her front windows of any house in Riverview, and that not one unseemly blot rested upon the landscape. So that it became a sore thing to her when her husband leased a big lot in the direction of the water to a man by the name of Perkins, who got a lot of old boards together and reared a kind of workshop there, from which he emerged at various times in the day, sometimes in his shirt sleeves, and again in a leathef apron and queer cap; if the weather was inclement, perhaps he wore a woolen jacket, and at this season of the year his pantaloons were generally thrust in his boots. The man, as Mrs. Paret justly observed, evidently belonged to the working class, and she had no objection to Mr. Paret’s hiring him to superintend the various repairs necessary that spring in their household, but she did strongly object to the peculiar manner of the man; it was not so much that he had dared to use his own judgment about the wall-paper, but he had actually appealed to Grace, to her daughter, to support him in his Choice, and Grace, in her thoughtless way, had stood there in the hall talking with this man Petkins—talking, smiling, blushing. Why, Grace could not have shown more attention to the Grand Duke himself than she had to this paperhanger. “The impudence, the unparalleled impertinence,” said Mrs. Paret, “of a paper-hanger, an ordinary paper-hang-er, daring to intrude his choice of material, and actually using a pale gray ground instead of the shade I ordered!” “But, mamma,” said Grace, “you said yourself that it was the prettiest, after it was on the wall.” “That has nothing to do withit,” said Mrs. Paret, waving her hand, and majestically disposing of her daughter’s plea—“ nothing whatever to do with it. It’s the principle of the thing, Grace; the idea of an ordinary paperhanger—” “I don’t think he’s altogether ordinary, mamma,” said Grace. “You must allow yourself that he’s a little extraordinary, he’s a kind of Admirable Crichton. I’m sure I never saw such skill imny life in hanging the curtains; and hung they would never have been if our people had been left to manage them. He just climbed the ladder, Peregrine,” added Grace, turning to her brother* 44 and took the great clumsy things in' his arms, gave a twist or two here, a tack or two there, a push up and a push down, and the whole thing was l<Vely!” “Hum," said Peregrine, junior, tugging at the few wisps of hair ho called a mustache—"hum —a yes no doubt; but there’s such a thing as fellows being too confoundedly brisk, you know. Fellow’s good enough, no doubt, in his way —capital mechanic, all that sort of thing; but hang it, you know, fellow must keep in nis own groove. Watkins says to me yesterday, * See fellow over there sawing board?’ And I says, 4 Yes.’ And says Watkins, 4 Fellow wants to join our boat club.’ ‘No?’says I. ‘Fact,’ says Watkins. 4 Case of blackball,’ says I. And it was; club couldn’t stand that sort of thing, you know—kill it quicker’n lightning.” “That’s the reason you lose every race,”said Grace. “Mr. Perkins is a better oarsman than anyone in the club.’’ “Possible,” drawled Peregrine. “Plenty clubs glad to get him, no doubt, but we decline the honor. If precedent is ’stablished that sort, no knowing what’ll be consequence.” “Peregrine is right,” said Mrs. Paret. “ 4 A place for everybody and everybody in nls place,’ is my motto; and one thing irvery certain, that ramshackle old barn over there is ruining our property. I told you, Mr. Paret, what would be the result when yon leased him the land.” Mr. Paret said nothing; his half-shut but keen eyes had at first rested upon the face of his daughter, and an expression of eager anxiety, which was very rare with him, had now given way to the usual grim composure of his feautures. He was a very quiet man. . And would sit for a whole evening with his head up against the wall, never once hazarding a remark of his own, but contenting himself apparently with ths conversation that went on about him. His extreme reticence had gained for him a certain reverence when he did happen to speak. A more voluble man might be allowed to run on unnoticed, or he might be contradicted or differed with, but Mr. Paret’s words, like everything rare, were held in consideration. On this pleasant morning of which I speak he said nothing. For a brief moment a keen glance, almost haggard in anxiety, had rested on the sweet face of his daughter; but hF did not reply to his wife. Two or three days later on be, however, made a remark which

paused considerable confusion in the Iptle circle about him. * This time it was the evening meal, and the subject was again Mr. Perkins. Spring had come, the bitterness of the frost had melted id. the ardor of the •un, and the consequence was—mud! The peculiar yellow clay that formed the upper strata in the geological classification of Riverview became very noticeable that night in the Paret houseJhold. The heavy boots of Mr. Paret were clogged with it, the gaiters of Peregrine, junior, werefleckea here rnd there, and the natty, arched, highheeled shoes of Miss Grace, as they snuggled under the dining table, showed very plain.y the adhesive quality of this clayey mud. “ Hum—a—” drawled Peregrine, 44 what’s all this about fellow with board? Watkins home to-day, and says days of chivalry coming back again. Certain lovely lady’s progress impeded by mud—along comes knight with board on shoulder—throws it down—lady walks over, smiles sweetly, says pretty words of gratitude: result, all fellows in Riverview hunting for boards.” 44 1 hate that Watkins.” said Grace, a hot color leaping into her rounded cheek, her blue-eyes flashing indignantly. “If ho knew how I despised him, he’d stop persecuting me with his attentions. Nothing could be nicer, mamma, than the way Mr. Perkins helped me over the crossing; it was the most natural .thing in the world. You know how muddy it is on that corner by the church. Fdidn’t know how to get across; I was quite in despair, when I saw Mr. Perkins with a board on his shoulder, and in the twinkling of an eye he had thrown it down ana made a bridge of it for the passers-by.” “For you, you mean,” said Mrs. Paret, sternly. 44 If it had been some poor old lame beggar woman, he’d have kept his board immaculate. What right has this person to offer you any civility? What right has he to know of your existence -to look at you at ail?” It was at this juncture ox the conversation that Mr. Paret spoke. “ A cat may look at a King,” said' Mr. Paret. And these few words of his had the effect of a bomb bursting in the enemy’s camp. Mrs. Paret started and stared at her husband, Peregrine's fork paused in mid-air. and even Gtacie’s eyes grew round in wonder. His opinion had not been asked. The little group, in fact, believed him utterly oblivious and indifferent to the Perkins question, and this singular and trite remark threw consternation in their midst. But Mrs. Paret rallied sufficiently to stammerout, “ A King is not supposed to look at a cat.”

And Mr Paret, who had by this time finished his meal and reached the door of the dining-room, turned upon the threshold, and said, “That depends upon the taste and policy of the King and the character of the cat.” With this Parthian arrow he went out and shut the door. The next day Miss Grace went into the parlor to practice the opening piece for the following Sunday. Miss Grace was the soprano in the aristocratic church on the muddy corner below, and it was generally conceded that for sweetness and compass the voice of Miss Paret had no peer in Riverview. Mr. Perkins himself in passing the church the day before had paused, with the board on his shoulder, and listened, with his heart in his mouth, to the clear, sweet, ringing notes that fell upon the balmy air of that delicious morning. And very thankful he was that he bad waited long enough to be of service to her in,any way, “No thanks to me,” he had said, while sacrificing his board; 44 1 should have been half a mile ahead if your voice’hadn’t rooted me to the spot.”

“ I thought I oould get my part better if I tried it in the church,' 1 said Grace; “but it was so big and gloomy there, and it’s so hard to practice alone; the tenor ought to be there, at least.” These words of hers—as, indeed, all her words—remained in thg memory of Mr. Perkins; ami .on.tfce following morning, while ho was superintending the papering of the reception-room on the other side of the hall, and listening to Miss Paret’s voice from the parlor, he became more and more convinced that she really did need the assistance of the tenor; the rest oould be got,along without, but the tenor was indispensable. He’d been humming to himself all the time, but of what service was this to Miss Paret? On the qpur of the moment he walked across the ball arid through the open door into. the parlor. He saw that her color rose, and that she turned upon the piano-stool and quickly confronted him, and for a moment he wished that he had never learned to sing. If this his should cost this loveliest and best of God's creatures the least disappointment, or even surprise, his epiglottis might as well be the most ordinary in the world—he would never sing again. But her voice held no indignation in it, nor her face, which was the purest, the gentlest, the most winning, of faces. ‘‘Shall I call mammaP’”she said. ‘‘Oh, no,” he replied; “the papering is going on nicely; but I thought, if you’d allow me, rd just supply the tenor for you. I can see that the absence of it is a great impediment. If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Paret, I think you could make out With my voice for the time.” And he began without further preamble to sing the sold. His* Facet, followed him with the piano accompaniment, her musical soul in, her ears. Oh, how Vastly, immeasurably superior was his voice to the had been accustomed to—to any tenor, any voice! Presently he ceased, and tremblingly, but sweet, she took up the refrain. Then he joined in with her, and for about 'ten minutes or so the paper-hangers on the other side of the corridor, the maid-servant in the kitchen, and* the man-servant in the hall, listened, open-mouthed, to these seraphic strains that seemed straight from paradise. Unfortunately they soared up into the sitting-room above, where Mrs. Paret was making up her domestic accounts, and so engrossed was she that she did not at first realize that a man’s voice was mingling with that of her daughter. "When she did, she made up her mind it was Mr. Barnes, the church tenor. But Mrs. Paret was a musical critic, and very soon conducted those rail rich notes did not belong to Mr. Barnes, Beside, he had gone to the city; she saw him go to the train half an hour before. Who could it beP The voice was certainly a strange one—wonderfully fine, but strange. Mrs. Paret dropped her book, put her pencil behind her ear, and went down into the parlor. Imagine her horror, her dismay, her indignation, to find that wonderfully fine but strange voice in the possession of Mr. Perkins! And to find her daughter, the acknowledged queen of Riverview society, deigning to mingle her voice with-*his, and accompany him while bo sang!

The poor girl hung her head when she saw her mamma. She knew there wasn’t a bit of harm in the situation; it was only the impulsive kindness of Mr. Perkins and the yearning for harmony which besets a musical soul. If she could only toll her mamma—explain to her Mr. Perkins’ motive and her own! But she could see that Mrs. Paret was growing redder and redder; that her usually rubicund complexion was deepening to a rich mahogany; that she was swelling up, so to speak, with rage and indignation. Mr. Perkins could see this for himself, and hastened to apologize. 44 It was merely a musical intrusion, madam,” he said. “I saw that your daughter needed a tenor, and, without pausing to think, offered it to her.” “I’m sure Mr. Perkins is always very kind,” faltered Grace. 44 Kind!” echoed the exasperated matron. “I’m about sick of Mr. Perkins and his kindness. He'd oblige .me by taking it and himself out of the house, and never entering its doors again in any capacity or under any circumstances.”

Mr. Perkins bowed his head meekly, went over to Grace, and took her trembling hands in both his own for a half second, bent his head again reverently to the haughty stare of Mrs. Paret, then went across the hall, gave a few directions to the workmen there, and walked out. That night Mrs. Paret beamed refulgently at the head of the table. She waft glad now that it happened as it did. She was rid of that intolerable Mr. Perkins at once and forever. “ The impudence of your man Perkins,” she said to her husband, 44 overreached itself to-day. I ordered him out of the house.” 44 You did!” said Mr. Paret, putting down his knife and fork, andlooxing at the partner of his bosom. 44 And what did ne say?” “Say? What could he sav?” 44 What did he do?” 44 Do? What could he do? He went out as he was ordered, and I’ve forbidden his entering the doors again in any capacity.’’ A grim smile distorted the features of Mr. He had not smiled much of late, so that this working of the muscles was really a distortion. 44 1 suppose he’d oblige you if he could,” said Mr. Paret “ I’ve found him a very kind and accomodating fellow; but he can’t help himself in this case.” 44 In what case, Mr. Paret? What do you mean?” said his wife, who saw that his chin was shaking painfully, and his hands trembled on the arms of his chair.

44 A man can’t very well stay out of his own-house,” said Mr. Paret. “Every thing here belongs to Mr. Perkins —house, furniture and all. He thought perhaps if it was kept quiet I might tide over; but it’s no use, Maria, rm broken un hand and foot. We’ll have to go back to the farm.” Then Mr. Peret’s head fell back powerless. He was carried to bed. Shortly after, Peregrine, junior, came in, with that dragged look that characterizes aoopk that has been beaten upon his own dunghill. “Here’s ago,” he said. “Perkins blackballed at the club, and turns out he owns the wholeconcern —boat-house, water-front and all,’’ But nobody minded Peregrine, junior. To do Mrs. Paret justice, she was a true stanch woman in time of trouble. 44 We’ll go back to the farm, dearie,” she said to the poor distracted broker. “Thank God, that’s mine! Nobody can touoh that. Only get well and strong, Peregrine, and rll be content to Spend the rest of our days there. Of course it will be a blow to Grace to leave Riverview; but she’s a good girl.” x-.. “Yes. God bless her!” said Mr. Paret. But I don’t believe that Grace will leave Riverview with the old folks. That night as she sat alone in the parlor, her tears falling fast upon the keys, sad thoughts and heavy fears distracting her thoughts from the melody, all at once i> big broad-shouldered shadow loomed up between her and the moonlight. “I had to come in at the window,” he said, 44 for you know I’ve been forbidden the doors. I came to beg you to forgive my blundering idiocy of today.” **lt doesn’t matter,” said Grace, with a sweet, sad dignity that made Mr. Perkins feel as if he’d like to get down on his knees to her. 44 We know now that everything here is yours—papa has told us. We are going back to the farm, and then yotrean come and go as you like.” “ That’s all nonsense;” said Mr. Perkins; devouring with his eyes the sweet, sad face beneath his own; “yourfather will pull through yet, and as for the rest, there’s only one thing in the house of any value to me, and that’s so priceless and precious, and unspeakably dear, that I can’t get courage to plead for it.” But I think he did, for I met Watkins myself the other day, and he said he was going to Mexico, the country was going to the dogs, and the franchise wasir t worth a cent. Too much power was given to monopolies. In Riverview alone was a case where one fellow, and an ordinary fellow at that, had gobbled up everything—boat-club championship, a woman that was next door to an •apgel, and all. “You knew her”—pursift Watkins—“Paret’s sister Grace; and you knew him, too, that masquerading chap with board. What’s his name?—Perkins!”— Harper's Weekly. -r-Dr. T. D. Lente says the most important desideratum for the invalid is occupation -something to give employment to both body ana mind. Want of it is a stumbling-block to the improvement and enjoyment of many of the visitors of Florida. Ennui is the dangerous enemy of the invalid. The same < idea is expressed in the following Chinese proverb: 44 The dog in the kennel barks at his fleas, but the dog who is hunting does not feci them.’— Dr. Foote's Health, Monthly.

A San Franctsco girt spent f 100,OW for an outfit to see Europe in, and the New York Mail says: “It is not stated whether her father made his money in the soap business or is a bonanza king. It Is evident that the fool-killer ought to hurry out to the Pacific Coast as soOn as possible, even though his business is still pressing on this side of the mountains.” — — .. ■ « The new ornaments for bonnets are in the shape of golden feathers, gold and silver filigree flies, bees apd beetles, with steel points scattered over the wings and bodies and forming the eyes. _ ; As Kpnwroous liquors will injure men, so opium or morphia will harmfully affect ths baby. Dr. Bull’s Baby Syrup is’flU r medy for the baby, it is free from opium. Price, 26 cents. ' ? ■'/ •