The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1884-08-27
The Last Leather Breeches.

Old Harmanus Schooenhoyer was
some fifty and odd years ago, the
oldest inhabitant' of the village
for it was village then--of Brook
lyn, genuine old Knickerbocker
T, faithful to the traditions of the times
and looking down with sovereign
contempt on all modern INNOVATIONS
, and mprovements. He lived in an
old wooden house, the gable end ol
which projected far into Fulton
street, and the door yard of which
was always ornamented in the sum-
mer time with those choicest of ac-
climated exotics, parti-colored tulips
from Harlem, and sunflowers from
heaven knows where. Harmanus
was generally known as the Last of
the Leather Breeches, from the style
of garment that incased his neither
limbs. He also wore a broad-skirt-
ed, cinnamon-colored coat of homes
pun manufacture and make, decorat-
ed with hugh blue buttons, very
long waistcoat of black cloth, white
neck cloth, and a hugh three-corner-
ed hat trimmed with tarnish gold
lace, in the loop of which. when
abroad, he invariably wore a little
clay pipe, with the stem tipped with
red sealing wax. We must not for
get his square-toed shoes, large
enough for the wear of gouty alder
man, with their huge plated buck
les. The rising generation did not
regard his attire with that, venera-
tion which it inspired in a few relics,
of the old school, who had not, how
ever, courage enough to initiate his
example and resist the modern
denominations of dress. They would
often laugh in the very face of the
study old Knickerbocker-
His old three -cornered hat,
And his breeches and all that
Were so queer.
But the old gentleman was queer
in other ways than matters of dress.
His notions on banks or in Wall
street speculations. He would some
times shave paper with undoubted
lindcrsers, and he owned some real
estate but the bulk of his property
consisted in sundry fat little kegs
solidly filled with gold and silver,
which ne kept in his sitting-room
upstairs, fronting the street. Then
he was queer in other things he had
queer ways of helping poor people |
anonymously, and absurd notions
that charity should begin at home, |
and only expand outwardly in pro-
portion as every necessity within its
immediate sphere had been relieved. |
So that, putting all these things to-
gether, the good man passed for
being a little cracked, and heads
with nothing at all in them were
gravely shaken, like empty poor
boxes, when his name was men
toned.
The old fellow viewed with an
noyance and disgust the changes
that took place in his native Village.
He only smiled when the stages
from Patchogue and Babylon and
Islip disgorged at Carmann their
loads of antiquated figures that look
ed as if they might have stepped |
down from the canvasses of a Flem-
isE gallery of the seventh century.
He didn't recognize as fellow-creat-
ures any man or woman in the
modern Partisan mode.
At length the wise men of Brook
lyn pronounced Schooenhover's
house nuisance. 1t was shabby,
it was tumble-down, it destroyed
the alignment of the street. 1t
must come down. The corporation
offered him handsome price for it.
He rejected it with disdain. He was
told that he must abandon his man.
sion-the homestead of his father
will ye mill We. He dared them to
violate the sanctitv of his castle.
He was notified to vacate-he
scorned the summons. The whole
town became interested.
The old man was non resistant,
like old Father Lemson. He shut
himself up with his money-bags
and doggedly awaited the result.
Workmen were sent to pull down
the house. The whole vicinity was
thronged with curious spectators as
at ship-launch, Merrily rang the
axes and the hammers and saw, and
the 'yo heave-ho of sturdy fellows
pulling and hauling at cables. At
last the end of the house was torn
away-shaming the legal fiction that
a mans house in his castle-and
there sat old Hermanus in his elbow
chair, with his cooked hat on his
head and his immortal breeches on
his sturdy legs, sublime in his mar
tyrdom, and smoking TRANQUILITY his
old clay pipe. His family had been
removed to another OF his houses.
He was invited to join them. But
ne declined, with a majestic wave
of the hand and a graceful emission
of tobacco smoke. Then he was
lifted carefully, armchair and all,
carried down the staircase, and de-
posted on the opposite sidewalk.
His goods and chattels were sent to
his wife; but even when his money
kegs departed be refused to accom-
panv them, but sat all through that
day a silent spectator of the utter
demolition of his venerable house.
At night he rejoined his family.
The removal of this old landmark
marked the merging of one era into
and had the significance of
an historical event. The corpora
ton paid the old man large sum,
but ne did not long survive the de-
of his house. His son
lives in a palace and drives blooded
horses, but few beyond the family
remember, in the heady current of
life, the, 'Lastof the Leather Breech-
es' of New York.