The reminiscences say of him:
“In the daytime, notwithstanding mother’s gentle pleadings, instead of preparing work, he was constantly writing letters about these societies, all naturally to the serious detriment of his affairs.
“Nevertheless, for so small an establishment, father had an extraordinary clientèle, embracing the names of most of the principal families in New York—Governor Morgan, General Dix, some of the Astors, Belmonts and the wife of General Daniel E. Sickles.”
Horace Greeley also was a steady purchaser, for he delighted to wrangle with this argumentative shoemaker upon the philosophy of footwear.
The reminiscences continue:
“No doubt those who came were attracted by my father’s picturesque personality, as well as by the fact that at that time everything French was the fashion, and by the steadiness of his assurance as to the superiority and beauty of his productions. His sign, ‘French Ladies’ Boots and Shoes,’ must have been irresistible when taken together with the wonderfully complex mixture of his fierce French accent and Irish brogue. This bewildering language was just as bad at the end of fifty years as when he first landed. In the family he spoke English to mother and French to the three boys; we spoke English to mother and French to him; mother spoke English to all of us.”
Moreover, further to adorn his discourse, my grandfather constantly embroidered his remarks with fantastic proverbs of uncertain and international origin. “As much use as a mustard plaster on a wooden leg,” he would say; or, “Sorry as a dog at his father’s funeral”; or “As handy with his hands as a pig with his tail”; or “A cross before a dead man”; or (and this my father repeated after him through all his life) “What you are saying and nothing at all is the same thing.”
“In addition, close to that time my mother’s cousin, John Daly, a marine on one of the United States government ships, paid us a visit, when he read to us in papers brought from Honolulu and showed us great walrus teeth that had come from the Pacific. And finally I can see myself among the other children who attended the Sunday school of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Elizabeth Street.”
THE BATTLE OF COLLIERVILLE.
BY CAPT. P. J. CARMODY.