 | Saratoga in 1901 |  |
NEW YORK
AT BALL & BLACK'S.
Fifth Heavenue Hotel.
Yesterday my Uncle Consider
Perkins arrived from Litchfield
County, Connecticut. My Uncle
Consider is not a college man, but
he has got good square Perkins' blood
into him. He says he has. He says
he is proud of his “genlmnly” tastes. He says he was born a
Litchfield County farmer, but that our ancestors came from a
noble “origum.” He says he is very glad to visit me at the
Fifth Heavenue and to see something of our fust society.
I take him round with great pleasure.
Uncle Consider said he wanted to buy some holiday presents
for Aunt Ruth and Aunt Patience, so we dropped into Ball,
Black & Co.'s.
Now there is a good deal of very nice and very cheap jewelry
made in Connecticut—some in Litchfield County, but it is not
made by the Perkinses. Perkinses never go into any such thing.
They all, except myself, follow the glorious pursuit of agriculture;
they can't tell an oroide watch from a genuine Tobias.
As we entered Ball & Black's palatial store on Broadway,
Mr. Black advanced to meet us.
“What will you have, gentlemen?” said Mr. B. very politely.
“Some jewelry, if you have some cheap,” said my Uncle Consider,
feeling in his trousers' pocket for his wallet.
“What kind, Sir?” asked Mr. Black.
“I guess I'll take a cheap black Emanuel busum pin, for Mrs.
Perkins,” said Uncle Consider. Then he asked the price.
“Well, plain enamels are 75,” said Mr. Black.
“All right,” said Uncle Consider, “put this ere one up. It's
cheap enough. And now, Mr. Ballandblack,” he continued, “I
want to get some antic jewlry—some ear-rings for Aunt Ruth,
you know, Eli,” he said, looking over his spectacles to me.
Mr. Black handed out a tray of antique ear drops and asked:
“How do you like ear-rings à la Pompeii, Mr. Perkins?”
“I don't like these old-fashioned antics,” said my uncle, “I
want new-fashioned antics. Hav'n't you some antics à la
Chicago?”
Mr. Black smiled and handed out a pair of new-fashioned
antiques, saying, “These are worth 90, Mr. Perkins.”
“They are thundering cheap,” said my uncle, and then he
asked:
“Hev you got some more antics, Mr. Black?”
“No moire antiques, Mr. Perkins, they are not in the market.”
“Wal, put those up, then; and now, Mr. Ballblack,” said my
uncle, holding onto Mr. Black's collar, “I want to get a real,
No. 1, gilt-banded, brass-hooped copy of the Holy Scriptures,
for sister Patience. I want a good, substantial, polywog Bible,
with the complete hypocracy in it.”
“Here is a good one, Mr. Perkins, and cheap at 80,” said Mr.
Black, showing a gilt-clasped Bible.
“That is cheap, I swow,” said my uncle; “that is gol blasted
cheap, Mr. Blackball,” said he, with a wave of his hand, “send
me up five of them, hypocracy, polywogs, and—”
“What in the world do you want so many for, uncle?” I asked.
“Why, Jerusalem crickets, Eli! them polywogs is dog cheap!
Why, you can't buy a Sander's spelling book up in Litchfield
for less than 90.”
“Send 'em all up to the Fifth Heavenue with the bill,” said
Uncle Consider, and then we went around to Madame Gobare's,
to see about some silk dresses.
This morning the Fifth Heavenue folks sent up my uncle's
bill. The waiter knocked at the door, and as my Uncle Consider
opened it, he stuck the bill into his hand.
“Thunderation, Eli,” my uncle commenced, “I'll be kust
if—”
“If what, Uncle Consider?” I asked in amazement.
“Why, the kuss Blackball said that busum pin for Betsey was
to be 75; I thought he meant 75 cents, and, great guns! he's
gone and charged 75 dollars for it. And them 90 cents antic
ear-rings are put down at 90 dollars—and—Lord bless
Litchfield County, if he hasn't gone and sent up five of them
miserable 80 cent brass-hooped polywog bibles with the hypocracy
in them at 80 dollars apiece!—Five hundred and sixty-five
dollars—when I thought the kuss was selling them to me
for 565 cents!
“Ough!”
| Saratoga in 1901 | |