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402 Rogers
on the table — an ancient extinguisher of the " slouch " pattern, limp and shapeless with age, discolored by vicissitudes of the weather, and banded by an equator of bear's grease that had stewed through.
Another time he examined my coat. I had no terrors, for over my tailor's door was the legend, " By Special Appointment Tailor to H. R. H. the Prince of Wales," etc. I did not know at the time that the most of the tailor shops had the same sign out, and that whereas it takes nine tailors to make an ordinary man, it takes a hundred and fifty to make a prince. He was full of compassion for my coat. Wrote down the address of his tailor for me. Did not tell me to mention my nom de plume and the tailor would put his best work on my garment, as complimentary people sometimes do, but said his tailor would hardly trouble himself for an unknown person (unknown person, when I thought I was so celebrated in England !— that was the crudest cut), but cautioned me to mention his name, and it would be all right. Thinking to be facetious, I said:
" But he might sit up all night and injure his health."
" Well, / him," said Rogers; " I've done enough for him, for him to show some appreciation of it."
I might as well have tried to disconcert a mummy with my facetiousness. Said Rogers: *4 I get all my coats there — they're the only coats fit to be seen in."
I made one more attempt. I said, <4 I wish you had brought one with you — I would like to look at it."
" Bless your heart, haven't I got one on?—this article is Morgan's make."
I examined it. The coat had been bought ready-made, of a Chatham Street Jew, without any question — about 1848. It probably cost four dollars when it was new. It was ripped, it was frayed, it was napless |
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