Jack Wonnell had a worn bell-crown on his head, exposed to all kinds of
weather, as he was in the habit of fishing in these beaver-hats, and
never owned an umbrella in his life. He lived near Meshach, in the old
part of Princess Anne, near the bridge, and was the subject of the
money-lender's scorn and contempt, as tending to make a mutual
eccentricity ridiculous. Milburn had been willing to be hated for his
hat, but Jack Wonnell made all unseasonable hats laughable, the more so
that he was nearly as old a wearer of his bell-crowns as Milburn of the
steeple-top. Although he had no such reasons of reverence and stern
consistency as his rich neighbor, he seemed to have, in his own mind,
and in plain people's, a better defence for violating the standard taste
of dress.
The people said that Jack Wonnell, being a poor man, could not buy all
the fashions, and was merely wearing out a bargain; that he knew he was
ridiculous, and set no such conceit on his absurdity as that grim
Milburn; and they rather enjoyed his playing the Dromio to that
Antipholus, and turning into farce the comedy of Meshach's error.
Jack Wonnell had partly embraced his bargain by the example of Meshach.
A frivolous, unambitious, childish fellow, amusing people, obliging
people, running errands, driving stage, gardening, fishing, playing with
the lads, courting poor white bound girls, incontinent, inoffensive, he
had been impelled to bid off his lot of old hats by Jimmy Phoebus
saying:
"Jack, dirt cheap! Last you all your life! Better hats than old Meshach
Milburn's.
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