Chapter III: Wise Observations.--Story of the Hat

I fancy that some of my readers imagine, that it would be a dull business to study into the history of hats and coats, bread and butter, and such other common-place things. But there is an old proverb which says, “Look ere you leap;” and another which says, “Think twice and speak once.” These admonish us never to be over-hasty in speaking or acting; and, on the present occasion, I shall endeavor to show, that this good rule has been transgressed by those who despise my advice about hats and coats, bread and butter.

Here, Philip! give me a hat; let it speak for itself. Come, old hat, tell us your story! tell us what you are made of; where the materials of which you are made were obtained, how they were put together, and the price at which you were sold. Come, old beaver, speak out! What! dumb? Not a word? Then I will speak for you. So here is

THE STORY OF THE HAT, SUPPOSED TO BE
TOLD BY ITSELF.

“I am made partly of wool, which is the hair of sheep, and
partly of furs, of different kinds. There is some beaver’s
fur, some musquash’s, and some wildcat’s in me.

“I suppose that everybody knows how we get wool,--by
shearing it from the sheep’s back; but we do not get furs
in the same way. Musquashes, beavers, and wildcats are not
tame, like sheep, and they will not let you take them into
a barn, and shear off their nice, soft fur. These creatures
live far away from the abodes of men; they seek the distant
solitudes beyond the hills and mountains, and those who
would catch them must go and find them in these wild
retreats.

“Sometimes, it is true, a beaver is found nearer to our
houses, and now and then a wildcat, that has strayed from
his native forest, is found in the neighboring woods. The
musquash builds his habitation on the banks of streams, and
is not very uncommon even in districts frequented by man.

“But these animals are, on the whole, so scarce, that,
in order to obtain a supply of their fur, a great many
hunters and trappers spend their time in roaming through
the mountains, valleys, and prairies of the far West, in
order to obtain them. These people meet with a great many
strange adventures. Sometimes they will follow the branch
of a river for five hundred miles, in a boat, during which
time they will not meet with a human habitation, save the
wigwams of the Indians. Sometimes they will sleep at night
upon the ground, with no covering but a blanket; sometimes
they will meet with a party of Indians, and have a fight
with them. Sometimes they will meet with friendly Indians,
who receive them into their lodges, and entertain them
kindly; sometimes they are confronted by a grizzly bear,
who places himself in their path, and must receive at
least a dozen bullets in his breast before he is killed.
Sometimes they will roam over wide deserts, and suffer
very much for want of water. Sometimes they will be in the
midst of a vast prairie, the grass of which is on fire,
and then they have the greatest difficulty to escape from
the flames. Sometimes they are robbed of all their furs by
hostile Indians, and sometimes they meet with Indians who
sell them large quantities of fur.

“After a great many cares, and trials, and dangers, and
often after an absence of two years, the fur-hunter comes
back with his load of skins; and a pretty figure he is.
The clothes he carried with him are worn out, and he is
now attired in the skins of various wild beasts. On his
head you see the grizzled fur of a raccoon, with his tail
hanging down behind. His coat is made of a wolf’s skin,
and his vest of the skin of an otter. But his trowsers are
the drollest part of his attire. They are made of a bear’s
skin, and each leg looks like a great, shaggy, black dog,
standing upright! Altogether, the hunter is a most curious
object. He looks like three or four wild animals all sewed
into one!

“What a great variety of adventures has this man met with
in his wanderings of two years. How many pleasant stories
could he tell, if he would sit down of a long winter night,
and recount all that happened to him; all about the bears,
the foxes, the wolves, and the wild Indians that he saw.
How much this poor man must have suffered; what toil,
hunger, thirst, danger and privation; and all this, that
master Philip might have a hat; all this to get furs to
make hats of.

“The wool and fur being obtained, these are prepared by
the hatter, who, in the first place, makes a sort of cap,
shaped something like a sugar-loaf. This is then soaked
in hot water, and, being put upon a block, the crown is
made of a proper shape. The whole is stiffened with gum,
colored, dressed, put in boxes, and sent to the hat-seller.
The price paid for me was two dollars. Philip has worn me
for about a year, but I am in a sad condition. The hole in
my crown was made by a stick, which went through me one day
when Philip threw me at a red squirrel on the fence. The
rent on my brim was caused by a saucy fellow, that tried
to pull me off one day; but I chose to be torn, rather
than see Philip insulted by having his hat knocked off;
for, though the boy has his faults, I like him better than
anybody else.”

Such is the story of the hat. My object in giving it to you is, to show, that the commonest article of daily use has its history, if we will only inquire into it.