At a little place
called Bristoe Station I recently obtained a fine, blue uniform, the tint
of which wind and rain will soon turn to our own excellent Confederate
gray. I found your own name as maker stamped upon the neck band of both
coat and vest.
"I ought to say however that after I had worn the coat only twice the
seams ripped across both shoulders, I admit that the fit was a little
tight, but work well done would not yield so quickly. I also picked out
a pair of beautiful shoes, bearing your name stamped upon them. The
leather cracked after the first day's use, and good leather will never
crack so soon.
"Now, my dear Mr. Watson, I feel that you have treated me unfairly.
I will not use any harsher word. We do not expect you to supply us with
goods of this quality, and we certainly look for something better from
you next time.
"Your obedient servant,
ARTHUR ST. CLAIR,
Lieutenant 'The Invincibles,'
C. S. A."
"Now, did you ever hear of another piece of impudence like that?" said
Watson.
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