III. COUSIN GUSS.[7]

III. COUSIN GUSS.^[7]

“Well, how de dew? I’m right glad to see you, I swow. I rather guess I can say suthin’ about the Revolution business, purty good varsion, tew, by jingo. My father, old Josh Addams, had his fist in it: any on you know him? Old Josh Addams, as well known as the Schuylkill water-works. He was born in Boston: he didn’t die there, ’cause he died in Philadelphia. He used to wear an old genuine ’76 coat, little cut down to suit the fashion, made it a razee. One might have known the old man a mile off. If it hadn’t been for Cousin Guss, he’d have been livin’ to this ere day. You may see Guss in Chestnut Street—any of you know him?—dressed like a peacock, and got whiskers big enough to stuff a sofa bottom. He went down t’other day to see the wild beasts in 5th street; jest as he was comin’ away, he met a hull squad of little children a comin’ in: when they saw Cousin Guss, if they didn’t squeal like ten thousand devils. The old man says, what’s the matter, young ones? Oh dear, papa, see, they’ve let one of the monkeys loose. Cousin Guss didn’t show his face in Chestnut Street for a week. Guss telled the old man he must have his coat cut again, and altered to the fashion; so he coaxed old Josh to let him take it down to his artist, as he called him, down in 3rd street. Well, the good-natured old critter said he might: when he got it back, sich a lookin’ thing as it was, you might have fallen down and worshipped it, without breaking the ten commandments. When we saw it, we all larfed; sister Jedide, she snickered right out. The old man looked at it for about a minute, didn’t say a word, by jingo—the tears rolled out of his eyes as big as hail-stones. He jest folded it up, put it under his pillow, laid himself down on the bed, and never got up again: it broke his heart: he died from a curtailed coat.

“The old man used to tell sich stories about the Revolution. I rather guess he could say a leetle more about that affair than most folks. ’Bout six years ago he went to Boston, when La Fayette was there; they gave a great dinner at Fanueil Hall. When the Mayor heard old Josh Addams was in Boston, he sent him a regular built invitation. The old man went, and wore the ’76 coat,—that is, before it was cut down, though. Bimeby they called upon the old man for a toast. Up he got, and, says he:

“ ‘Here’s to the Heroes of the Revolution, who fought, bled, and died for their country, of which I was one.’

“When old Josh said that, they all snickered right out.

“There’s one story the old man used to tell about Boston, that was a real snorter: he always used to laugh afore he begun.

“He said, down on Long Wharf there was a queer little feller—a cousin of his by the mother’s side—called Zedekiah Hales, who wasn’t more than four foot high, and had a hump jest between his shoulders. A hull squad of British officers got round Zedekiah, in State Street, and were laughing and poking all sorts of fun at him: he bore it, cause as how he couldn’t help it; one of them, a regular built dandy captain, lifting up his glass, said to him:

“ ‘You horrid little deformed critter, what’s that lump you’ve got on your shoulder?’

“Zedekiah turned round and looked at him for about a minute, and says he:

“ ‘It’s Bunker Hill, you tarnal fool, you.’ ”