As for Joe Maxwell, he had no time to think about such things. He sometimes rode with the patrol on their fruitless and sometimes foolish errands, but his curiosity with regard to them was soon satisfied, and he was better contented when he was spending his evenings at home with his books, or in listening to the wonderful tales that Mr. Snelson told for his benefit. In spite of the fact that his work in the little printing-office was confining, the lad managed to live an outdoor life for a good part of the time. He had a task to do—so many thousand ems to set—and then he was through for the day. The thoughtful Mr. Snelson added to this task from time to time, but Joe always managed to complete it so as to have the greater part of the afternoon for his own.
There was a hat-shop on the plantation presided over by Mr. Wall, a queer old man from North Carolina. With the thrift of youth Joe gave the amusement of rabbit-hunting a business turn. In the fall and winter, when the rabbits were in fur, their skins could be sold at the hat-shop at twenty-five cents a dozen, and the little harriers were so industrious and so well trained that he sometimes sold as many as three dozen skins, a week. In addition to the pleasure and the money he got from the sport, he became very much interested in the hat-shop.
The hats were made as they had been during the Revolution, and as they were no doubt made in England before the Revolution. The hair on the pelts or skins was scraped off with a knife fashioned like a shoemaker’s knife. The fur was then cut away with a steel blade that had no handle. When there was enough fur to make a hat it was placed on a bench or counter. Over the counter was suspended a long staff, to which was fastened a bowstring. If the staff had been bent it would have had the appearance of a huge bow, but it was straight, and the rawhide string was allowed a little play. With an instrument not unlike a long spool the hatter would catch the bowstring, pull it away from the staff, and allow it to whip against the fur as it sprang back into place. This whipping was carried on very rapidly, and was kept up until every tuft of fur was broken apart. Then the fur was whipped gently into what was called a bat, shaped somewhat like a section of orange peel. The hatter then spread a cambric cloth carefully over it, pressed it down a little, seized the cloth in the middle between thumb and forefinger, gave it a flirt in the air and lifted fur and all. To Joe Maxwell it seemed like a trick of magic.
The cloth, with the bat of fur lying smoothly and neatly in its fold, was then placed on a heating box, and kneaded rapidly but gently. When it seemed to be getting too hot it was sprinkled with water. This kneading was kept up until the fur shrunk together. When taken from the cloth it was in the shape of the hats the clowns used to wear in the circus, and it was called a bonnet. The bonnet was then dipped in boiling water and pressed and kneaded with an instrument shaped like a rolling-pin, but smaller. The workers in this department were compelled to protect their hands from the boiling water by means of leather fastened to the palms of their hands. The more the bonnets were rolled and kneaded, the more they shrunk, until finally they were ready to be placed on the blocks that gave them the hat shape. They were fitted to these blocks, which were of various sizes, and thrown into a caldron of boiling water, where they were allowed to stay until they would shrink no more.
When hats became scarce after the breaking out of the war, the editor bought Mr. Wall’s interest in the hat-shop, and made him foreman. Several negroes were placed under him, and they soon became experts in hat-making. There was a great demand for the hats from all over the South, and on one occasion Joe Maxwell sold a dozen wool hats for $500—in Confederate money.
But the most interesting thing about the shop, as Joe thought, was the head hatter, Miles Wall, who was the quaintest old man that Joe had ever seen. He was illiterate—he didn’t know a letter in the book—and yet he was not ignorant. The Bible had been read to him until he was grounded in its texts and teachings, and he was always ready for an argument on politics or religion.
