THE LAST OF THE TIE-WIGS.
BY JARED AUSTIN.
One of my earliest village reminiscences is a vision of old Captain Garrow, in his old-fashioned, square-skirted coat, plush shorts, silk stockings, shoe buckles, and, to crown the whole, his venerable tie-wig. He was a character, the captain. He was a relic of a past age, an antique in perfect preservation, a study for a novelist or historian. Born in Massachusetts before the rebel times, he had taken an active part in the Revolution; served as commissary, for which his education as a trader had qualified him; and the rank of captain which was attached to the office had given him the title he bore in his old age. When the war was over, his savings (very moderate, indeed, they were, for the captain was as honest as daylight) were invested in a stock of what used to be called English goods, but what are now, through the increase of manufactures in our own country, denominated dry goods; I think it rather fortunate for our village that the worthy captain pitched upon it for his residence, and for the sale of his well-selected English goods. His strict old-fashioned notions of commercial honor and punctuality gave a tone to the whole trade of the place, which lasted for a long time. His modest shop was a pattern of neatness and economy. His punctual attendance at all hours, his old bachelor gallantry to the lady customers, and his perfect urbanity to all, furnished an example to younger traders; while his stiff adherence to the "one price" system, while it saved the labor and vexation of chaffering, gave a stability to his establishment which made it respectable in the view of all sensible people.
Worthy Captain Garrow! well do I remember you at the meridian of your glory, the head "merchant" of our village, the acknowledged arbiter elegantiarum in all matters of chintz and linen, and lace and ribbons, and all the et ceteras of ladies' goods. Your opinion was law; for you were known to be the soul of honor, and your word in all engagements was reckoned as good as another man's bond.
But, in an evil hour, an invasion of Goths and Vandals came down upon us in the shape of cheap English goods' merchants. They inundated the place with gaudy, worthless trash at half price, gave unlimited credit, sold at almost any price you would offer, and seemed only anxious to have all the villagers' names in their books, and to double the consumption of English goods. The consequence was that the thoughtless part of the population deserted the worthy captain's shop, which henceforward received the custom only of the old steady-going people. His ancient-looking wooden tenement, with its weather-beaten sign, was put out of all countenance by the new brick stores, and flaring gilt signs, and plate glass windows of his rivals. The captain, however, foreseeing the result, bore it all with a dignity and quiet worthy of his character. He "guessed" that the importers in Boston and New York were destined to suffer at a future day; and so it turned out; for, after charging many thousand dollars in their books to people who were not very punctual about payment, his rivals, one by one, all failed; their stocks were sold out by the sheriff, and their book debts were handed over to the lawyers by assignees.
After the lapse of a few months, a new swarm of cheap merchants succeeded them, with precisely the same result. Meantime, the captain kept the noiseless tenor of his way, and maintained the original character of his own modest establishment. He had grown rich, but exhibited none of the airs of a presumptuous millionaire. He was too dignified to be insolent.
Well do I remember, on a certain day, when the captain, now quite an old man, was near the close of his career, calling at his shop with my cousin Caroline, commissioned by her mother to purchase with ready money a piece of Irish linen. When she had examined the captain's stock, and was about to make a purchase, she happened casually to remark that Irish linen was sold sometimes at a lower price.
"O yes, my dear," answered the captain—he always called a lady, old or young, "my dear"—"O yes; you can buy Irish linen over the way, where the big sign is, for less money. They will sell it to you, I dare say, at half price, and cheat you at that. But their goods are not like mine. They will generally take less than they ask you at first; but I never have but one price. I was bred a merchant before chaffering came into fashion. You can go and trade with them if you like, however."
Poor Caroline, who had not been aware of the captain's weak point, hastened to apologize, concluded her purchase, and was careful in future to respect the captain's sensitiveness on the subject of cheap goods.
Ere I left my native village to become a wanderer over the wide world, the captain had been gathered to his fathers. Having no relatives, he directed the executors of his will to apply his handsome fortune to the establishment of an asylum for orphans, which still remains a monument of his sterling goodness and public spirit.