[CHAPTER VIII.]
MAT OLMSTEAD, THE TOWN WIT—THE SALAMANDER HAT—SOLAR ECLIPSE—THE OLD HEN AND THE PHILOSOPHER—LIEUTENANT SMITH—EXTRAORDINARY METEOR—FULTON AND HIS STEAM-BOAT—GRANTHER BALDWIN AND HIS WIFE—SARAH BISHOP AND HER CAVE.
Another celebrity in Ridgefield, whom I must not forget, was Matthew Olmstead, or Mat Olmstead, as he was usually called; he was a day laborer, and though his specialty was the laying of stone fences, he was equally adroit at hoeing corn, mowing, and farm-work in general. He was rather short and thick-set, with a long nose, a little bulbous in his latter days; with a ruddy complexion, and a mouth shutting like a pair of nippers, the lips having an oblique dip to the left, giving a keen and mischievous expression to his face: qualified, however, by more of mirth than malice. This feature was indicative of his mind and character; for he was sharp in speech, and affected a crisp, biting brevity, called dry wit. He had also a turn for practical jokes, and a great many of these were told of him; to which, perhaps, he had no historical claim. The following is one of them, and is illustrative of his manner, even if it originated elsewhere.
On a cold, stormy day in December, a man chanced to come into the bar-room of Keeler's tavern, where Mat Olmstead and several of his companions were lounging. The stranger had on a new hat of the latest fashion, and still shining with the gloss of the iron. He seemed conscious of his dignity, and carried his head in such a manner as to invite attention to it. Mat's knowing eye immediately detected the weakness of the stranger; so he approached him, and said,—
"What a very nice hat you've got on! Pray who made it?"
"Oh, it came from New York," was the reply.
"Well, let me take it," said Mat.
The stranger took it off his head, gingerly, and handed it to him.
"It is a wonderful nice hat," said Matthew; "and I see it's a real salamander!"
"Salamander?" said the other. "What's that?"