_To Editor Woman’s Page who can serve Truth to homes in cups & saucers._
Hon. Dear Sir:
As nearly ago as last Wedsday I was connected to home of Mrs Jas Jones,
Peru, Ind., where I am now not. My departure I shall relate.
Though refined in her appearances, this Hon. Mrs Jones is known by the
dishes she keeps.
This Jones home are a continuous China closet entirely filled with
it. Bloated blue bowls set in shelves amidst cups which look like
History had drunk out of them. Stingy-size coffee cup to be taken after
dinner are there to any extent. In presidential cabinets of mahogonish
appearance she got considerable cut-up glasswear which make flashes
resembling diamonds in show-case.
“Togo,” she say so, “because you are intellectual Japanese, I are sure
you can take care of my dishes.”
“Japan are elegant chaperone for China,” I absorb with chivalry.
“All my cubboards is filled with dear associates,” she acknowledge.
“Yonderly plates is real Japanese curios what Aunt Martha bought while
travelling abroad in Chicago. Yonderly cups was handed down to me by Mr
Ancestor.”
“2 of them was handed down pretty hard,” I say so, because handles was
knock off.
“Crack and bump are considered antique,” she dib, while showing me 65
soup platters containing photo of Massacheussets to show how they was
once property of Henry Clay.
All them dishes look at me with prides, like I should be ashamed of my
cheapness.
“Togo,” deploy Hon. Mrs Jas Jones, as soonly as I was surprised as much
as I could, “dishes like mine must not be washed brutally. They must be
dishpanned like invalids.”
“I shall be trained nurse to them so much as possible,” I collapse.
“Should I need toilet soap to wash such fineness?”
“Intellect are more important than soaps,” she explan. “Only once did I
have a servant lady with sifficient intellect to wash my dishes, but
she would not remain. She are now in Colorado running for Congress.”
“How shall I do it to make scientific dish-wash?” I ask to know.
She tell me this following recipe:
1st--Take one dishpan of good family, mix him with 3½ qrts. water of
angry hotness until Hon. Dishpan seem quite tender.
2nd--Take one Soap of medium ripeness and mix him until he sud. Egg
beater can be used if willing.
3rd--Dish-wash are now ready for it. Best Dishes to wash are them what
has been smudged by foods.
4th--Drop Hon. Dish into delicious warmth of water. He will drown, but
you must not pity him until he arrive entirely clean by soap.
5th--Hon. Dish will now expect warm shower bath.
6th--Wipe him until fatigued.
7th--Hon. Dish are now ready to eat another meal.
“Most delicate tool to be used in dish-wash,” Mrs Jones tell with
voice, “are Hon. Dishrag. He must never be neglect. He must be kep in
healthful condition of athlete by continual care. He must be always
clean like white gloves, so Hon. Mikerobes will not walk on him.
Otherwise he will be full of feverish diseases which he will give my
Dishes to pass on to us.
“To keep dishrag clean are more important duty of home life than bakery
or piano lesson. You unstand this?”
“Distinctually!” I report. “But tell me this reply. What should I do if
Hon. Dishrag should axidentally throw himself down on floor where dust
is?”
“Oh!!” This from her. “Never--no, never at all must Dishrag be
permitted to behave like that by dropping to Floor. No!! Several 1000s
of person is murdered each annual year by Dishrags what has thusly
flopped and caught mikerobe. O Togo, you promus me one Thing?”
“I promus.”
“Promus you never permit Dishrag to flop to Floor whatever earthquake
happen?”
I promus reverendly by lifting my knuckles. So she permit me to wash
her dishes.
Things happens when they shouldn’t. This is what make newspapers and
other novels so pleasant to read. And so it was with me.
For 2 week times I work for this Mrs Jas Jones without any crisis
arriving. She were so deliciously stingy of her Mrs Washington pitcher,
cups & glasswear that she use 10c. store dishes of flat-iron thickness
for daily use when her Husband & other folks she did not respect was
home. So I needs not think of scientific dish-wash during them happy
days. Yet I worry about Hon. Dishrag continuously, because I was afraid
he might strike some germs. How could I keep him clean while washing
plates with him?
So I wash plates with my rude hands and hung Hon. Dishrag to clean peg
where he would not get soil. Hon. Mrs seem entirely pleasant when she
see the trained-nurse appearance of that Hon. Rag. I feel sure I should
last there until old age.
But one afternoon was different, Mr Editor, because Mr & Mrs Budhammer,
grandfather, dog, 2 Aunts and assorted children arrive up for
lunching. Add to this Mr & Mrs Jas Jones and you have considerable
dish-wash for poor Togo. And what did Hon. Mrs Jones do? She arrange
on table all her important dishwear for fashionable appearance. Andrew
Jackson butter-platter was there; Wm Shakespeare pattern plates with
golden dots; Mr Ancestor’s glasswear in cut-up shapes of aggrevated
beauty--every scarce China you could imagine was set there for folks to
eat so I could wash it.
Them guests was very hospitable to Mr & Mrs Jas Jones. They say them
plates was so beautiful they make the food taste better than it was.
They make happy conversations while Aunt Elizabeth tell about her
husband who died from Rheumatism on the brains. Everybody speak of
subject he like most. Hon. Mrs Jones tell mean things she could say to
neighbours and Mr Budhammer describe how happy he was before marriage.
Thus do social interchange make joyful friendship!
After slight coffee was drunk all rose up and eloped forthly to
verandah where all could smoke amidst fancy work and tell gossip
anecdotes.
But I was not invited to this. It was now my important time for
dish-wash when I should show all the science of my soul with that
valuable China & other cups.
I take all fashionable Ancestor dishes from table and pile to kitchen.
I was deliciously skilful like a bricklayer as I stacked cup on plate
etc., until I got one nice crockery mountain 6¼ feet high with Mrs
Martha Washington pitcher standing top-tip of 16 glasses looking
beautiful like History monument. It are remarkable how many dishes can
pile on each other without falling off.
I cooked some hot water by boiling it. Then I obtain Hon. Dishpan &
satisfy him full of hot water, adding soap until it seem comfortable.
Nextly I remove Hon. Dishrag from window where he enjoy sunshine
by looking into garden. With reverent fingers, so I should not mix
mikerobes with him, I flop him to Dishpan. Then I splunge my hands into
that sud and stir continuously.
Mr Editor, did you ever stand with your fingers in warm dishwater
thinking Thoughts. Such kind hotness surrounds your wrists that you
feel poetical and disengaged. I am not suprised that so many servant
ladies is such sweet singers while dish-washing. Their souls cannot
remain hardened while their fingers is soaking in such pleasant soap
sud.
Suddenly, while thusly I stood, great confusion came to my brain. I
remember what Hon. Mrs told me about keeping Hon. Dishrag away from
dirt. Then I look to that pile of Dishes. Some of them, though rare &
expensive, was all disarranged by colours of food and blackberry pie.
No! I could not enrage my sweet Boss Lady by touching sacred rag to
that!
So I lift Hon. Dishrag from soap-water, ring him out with loving care
and begin shake him so no rude germs would remain from contact with
sud. I make 2 complete shakes and was starting Shake No 3--when O! Hon.
Dishrag escape from my finger and start flopping to floor! Terrors!
This must not happen!! How raged Hon. Mrs would be if this respected
rag should catch some dust against her stric orders!
With immediate quickness I make extreme grab sidewards, snatching
rapidly like cats catching grasshopper. I got him--between thumbs
and elbows I caught that escaping Rag, but in thusly behaving--whop!
My physique collapsed against entire dish-pile and following climax
happened: