Part 4

As soonly as she had went I begin task of furnishing bill-of-fare for her zoo. To Siezer I give bone, to Florence cream. They accept this without thanks. Then I donate one apple to Hon. Robt. Burns who sung, “Every morn I bring thee violets” and attemp to chew off thumb from me. Everything was affectionate as usual.

Nextly I go to shelf where Harry & Carry are bathing in glass. I took them to table where I irrigated them with fresh water. I was just feeding them slight lunch of delicious bait when----SCRASH!!!

From next room I heard Hon. Robt. Burns say distinctly, “If you love me, darling, tell me with your eyes!” So I knew he was doing some sort of murder.

I rosh in. Oh!! what sight I seen. That parrot-fowell had escaped away from his roost and lept upward to goldy cage where Hon. Dick was making opera with voice. With talented grabb that conversational chicken had shipwrecked Hon. Cage and deposited Hon. Dick-bird to floor. When I met Hon. Parrot he was hen-picking that talented songster. I attemp to arrest him for his brutality, but he attach my finger with his eagle mouth. I was removing him from this when, SCRUNSH!!!

Loud crashy of glass from next room. I rosh forwards. I was just in time to be too late. Hon. Florence had pushed glassy residence of Hon. Goldfishes to floor and was dieting on those gilt swimmers. She look thankful while she make gollup of Harry. She also ate Carry ½, but when I remove remainder from her she make reproachful growell and snagg me with thorny foot. I attempt to restore Hon. Carry who was fainted away, when--BOW WOWS!!!

Hon. Siezer approach to scene determined to obtain food supply from that cat. Hon. Florence rosh up curtains with angry sizz peculiar to sky-rockets when she seen that dogged approach. Hon. Dog smile up at Hon. Cat and Hon. Cat smile down at Hon. Dog.

While thusly they stood Hon. Dick awoke up from where he lay and limped forth on shabby wings. He give 3 and ½ sorry peeps and flitter to fireplace where he flew up flue.

Just at that instantaneous moment Hon. Robt. Burns arrive in with rawcuss yellup, and hooked his feet to chandelier where he hung suspended downside-up like a umberella. Dog & Cat continue to gaz up & down at each other like Romeo & Juliet.

“Should old acquaintance be forgot?” require Hon. Parrot, twirling his head 3 times in circular manner.

I had no time to reply to this inquisitiveness. It were nearly time for Mrs. Barnum to return homeward and I was full of timid fright for fear she might notice how badly her Pets was mixed among themselves. I did not feel sifficient to meet her angry rage.

So I handed my resignation to myself.

On hasty piece of paper I wrote:

Esteamed Mrs. Madam:--when nextly you see Togo he will be gone. So will your golden-fish & cannary-bird. But I will not be gone where they are, because your Pets do not crave me for food. I are not sensitive about this neglect. When you left me this morning you say so that you thought their appetites was failing. I could not dishcover that dangerous symptom. All they need was change of food. If ever you find them refusing eat in the future, do what I done--turn them loose on each other. If you wish to find Harry & Carry, search Miss Florence. If you can not dishcover Miss Florence when you get back, search Mr. Siezer. I am sorry to go, but glad I went.

I attach this information secretively to door-handle. From inside of house I could hear Hon. Siezer making coon-tree noises responded to by war-cry voice of Miss Florence. From top-tip of chandelier Hon. Robt. Burns was reporting peevly, “Fare-bye, for I must leave thee! One parting kiss--ar, ar, ar!!”

I sneek silently away on velvet feetsteps, feeling like one Spartan boy who done his duty by escaping from it.

Hoping you are the same, Yours truly, _Hashimura Togo_.

IX WASHING WINDOWS

_To Editor Woman’s Page whose mind is glass which shoots daylight into Subjects._

Dear Sir:--

Until quite recently of yore I remained in the suburbs of Pennsylvania at home of Mrs Nero Fits Gibb, where I stayed as long as I did.

It was because of windows that I was exploded off from that lovely situation of employment. Next job of work I shall hitch myself to some house which do not contain any of those glass encumbents.

I tell you this narrative.

That Hon. Mrs Fits Gibb reside in one large mahogany house containing sifficient windows to see everything through. Bay windows occur at moments when least expected; skylights peep from roof with expression peculiar to pair of spectacles. That house has got windows all over its face from its chin to its forehead, and every door are confused by glass stained brightly to resemble colours.

“Togo,” explan Hon. Mrs to me, “I are very fond of fresh daylight.”

“You have caged nearly all there is,” I corrode for politeness while gazing at 13 doz. windows surrounding.

“When doing nothing,” she explan, “it shall be your duty to wash them windows with careful soap. This will make them more light.”

“I am hired for light work,” I suggest. “What are most scientific way to bathe these glass eyes of your home?”

“Most artistic window-wash can be obtained with a ladder and a bucket,” she deploy. “Also rags must be used including soap and gymnastics. Take these materials to window requiring cleanliness and rub until exhausted. Continue this massage on next window and therefore on. Industry must be had. Do not abandon a pain of glass until he shine with brilliancy resembling genius.”

So I go do what she say. I got ladder, I obcured rags, I obtained sudds bucket according to orders Hon. Mrs Fits Gibb gave me. So farly so goodly.

Grasping ladder on my shoulder with military expression I walk around Hon. House to pick out one window what appear good natured & easy. More I looked less I could decide. That Hon. House continue to gaze at me sternly like one octopus with 1000 glass eyes. At lastly I find one pompus bay window what set over front door presenting swelled appearance peculiar to Presidents.

I look thoughtfully upwards and make philosophy by myself.

“Window-wash are like Success,” I commute. “It are most pleasant to begin at the top and work downward. Therefore I shall begin by soaping this important outlook.”

So I amount up ladder with Hon. Bucket inclosed in my knuckles and numberous rags embraced by my suspenders. Uply and more uply I march until I was there looking Hon. Window in the face. So I begin to wash him.

Mr Editor, the simplest things in life seems the most simplest when they are not. Do it not seem easy to your educational brain for a Japanese Schoolboy to carry sudds up ladder and apply him to window pain by rubs of rag? And yet such work are full of complex.

No sooner I begin attacking this job than I dishcover how Hon. Window Wash must be like a juggle in a circus. To obtain myself on that ladder I must clasp my toes with carefulness resembling stork, at same time I must balance Hon. Bucket by elbow, hold Hon. Rags in teeth and splatter Hon. Window with what fingers I had left. In the meanwhile, what was Hon. Soap doing? When he got wet his nature changed and he imagined he was a snake. He would not stay where he was, but amuse himself by slipping off from everywheres I put him. Every time he fall, I must dutifully ascend down that ladder, pick him from grass, carefully descend upwards again and attempt to hang him somewheres where he would not make an eel of himself. I never seen soap so full of slyness.

And yet I work onwards in spite of him. With delicious accuracy I threw sudds on Hon. Window till he seem to weep tears. Then I wipe him elaborously with rag. Yet more I wipe, less beautiful he appear. Greyness cover him with streaks. More rubbs. Stripes of smudge confuse that glass. More lather I put on. Yet Hon. Window continue to look dull & bilious. I massage him up and down with greased elbow until it was nearly sunset of p. m. O discouraged! If diamonds is so hard to polish, I are not surprised that nobody but policemen can afford such jewelery.

Pretty soonly I could hear voice of Hon. Mrs saluting me crossly from below down.

“Togo,” she report, “you have been 2 hours in labour of work. How many windows have you bathed completely?”

“Nearly one,” I corrode boastfully.

“If it take you 2 hours to wash nearly one window, how long would it take you to cleansify 211 glass pains in this house?” This arithmatic from her.

“422 hours,” I reject brightly. “If you will loaned me paper & pencill, I shall be happy to estimate how many weeks that makes.”

“Xmas will arrive before then,” she agnosticate with bang of door.

I could not understood her repartee. Maybe she intend to give me Xmas present.

When fatigue was too plenty for more exercise I stand on climax of that ladder holding sudds bucket in thoughtful position. Great thoughts can be obtained in such high altitudes, thusly perched with excelsior feeling of brain. Leaning against glass forehead of that bay window I could observe Nature acting as usual amidst houses where residences was. Walking amongst those houses I could observe bill collectors, insurance agents and neighbours--which show that Trouble come wherever folks resides. “Life are similar to such scenery,” I say for smart quotation.

While thusly I argued, some ottomobile wheels could be heard walking below in front of house. I look downly and observe very fashionable appearance of society--one bloated gas-machinery stopping up near feet of ladder while one complete lady enwrapped in Arctic mouse-skins fur sat there talking Waldorf language to a chauffer of military pattern. I could tell she was 400 by actual count.

“Hennery,” she say to Hon. Chauffer, “ring door and pronounce that Mrs. Diggle Clodd have arrived for slight calling visit on Mrs. Fits Gibb.”

“I do so!” This from Hon. Hennery.

While Hon. Hennery was making rings by door, I lean from ladder and observe the elegance of that financial lady as she flopped amidst coloured padding and showed the splandid millinary of her hat.

Great excitement by me. She were not beautiful as ladies go--and some ladies goes considerable. Her hair was red like a blushing brick and her face seem too wealthy to agree with anybody. Yet I was enraptured to be standing above so much money.

I perch on ladder to imitate birds. Pretty soonly Hon. Hennery, containing expensive boots, report back.

“Hon. Mrs. Gibbs are here where she is,” he acknowledge while opening ottomobile door so Hon. Lady could alight down richly. Queens act thusly when getting out of ships. I could observe the fluttering ostriches on top of her millinary head. How expensive to estimate!

When she was snuggling forth in direction of front door, I must lean very crooked backwards for see what was. I could not tell how it happen, but when leastly expected--O knock! Hon. Soap slyly slip forth from window-sill where he was setting and flop to hat of Mrs. Diggle Clodd!!! Great mixture of plumage ensued while feathers drop with confusion resembling 2 roosters fighting in a cyclone.

“Oh Hennery! Look upwards and see what!” she shreech.

Hennery do so, and while thusly he gazed my elbow disjoint himself and O swash!!! That suds bucket flop forwards & spill 2 complete gals soap-water on top of his elegance.

He show bitter expression peculiar to persons standing under Niagara.

“Who do it?” holla Hon. Hennery & Hon. Mrs.

“I no do it!” were lawyer reply for me. “Hon. Bucket must be guilty.”

“Are you not manager for that bucket?” require Hon. Hennery.

“How could I tell when he is going to shoot?” I narrate.

“Hennery!!” she gubble, “elope up ladder and pluck that impertinence down!”

Mr. Editor, I are a tame Japanese, yet when I observe gentleman in uniform descending up ladder with warfare expression, all the Port Arthur of my nationality come out.

“Hara kiri!” I acknowledge to Hon. Chauffer while shooting remnants of sudds-water straight at his profile. He look very bathhouse--yet he still continue to approach.

“When I obtain you--” he pronounce, making a grab to heel.

“When you get me I shall be elsewhere,” I defy. Thusly speaking I leap into the face of that bay window and arrive inside of bedroom with loudy crashes. Somebody below-stairs yell, “Burglar!”--but I knew I could not be a burglar and be so noisy. Hon. Hennery continue to approach up ladder. In anxious escape I jump over 11 chairs, 2½ beds with numerous etcetera.

In a soon moment I could observe wet headware of Hon. Hennery encroaching through window where he enter with rebound. I make talented dodge to hallway where I bang door & lock him, thus encircling Hon. Chauffer with his wrath.

Below downstairs I could hear Hon. Mrs Clodd talking mustard to Hon. Mrs Gibb. I could hear angry voices walking upstairs.

If I lost any time I must do so quickly. I trot backwards down hall. From window in rearward bedroom I seen one porch-escape from which I flew like aeroplanes. I make down shoot to ground while Hon. Mrs. holla from window.

“Togo,” she yall, “you are requested never to look into my house again!”

“Those residing in a houseful of windows should look out for themselves,” I nudge back walking away in sections.

Hoping you are the same, yours truly, _Hashimura Togo._

X PAPER-HANGING

_To Editor Home & Ladies Page who realise how wallpaper are like friendship: sometime he stick right, and sometime he don’t._

Dear Mr:

Mrs Bertha Mac Frenzie, a very medium lady residing in Boston, Conn., dis-employed me recently from happy home. I was very satisfactory help to her until following anecdote happen to me.

Mrs Mac Frenzie’s only extravagance are her stingyness. Careful in most everything, she become extra reckless when attempting to save 9c. Her thoughts are filled with skimmed milk & slaughterhouse steak. I am suprised Hon. U. S. Government do not hire her to saw off High Cost of Living before he start to grow any taller. I know because I seen it.

“Togo,” she require of me, “too much wealth is lavished in that soup you make. He is too thick.”

“If he become thinner he will faint away,” I warn out.

“Soup will stand considerable starvation and yet seem hearty,” she deploy. So I do so.

Last Wedsday she approach up to me with arms full of roll-up material.

“I have dishcovered now so I can save 9$!” she deploy with glee-club voice.

“Such saving may involve great expense,” I corrode brightly.

She neglect my chivalry.

“I am determined to paper bedroom of upstairs,” she rake off. “This shall be done by home-made labour. These wallpapers what I got only cost 10c. per roll, thusly saving 1$. Experienced paper hangmen require 4$ per day. It take 2 such to paste a room properly. I shall employ you for nothing to do this valuable task, thusly saving 8$. Therefore, I save 1$ + 8$ = 9$.”

“What clever stingyness you think up!” I oblate. No response from her.

She led me upwards to bedroom where that job must be.

“Have you any knowledge of paper-hanging?” she ask it.

“I never before attended such a lynching,” was answer I make.

“I show you how is,” she reciprocate. So she lay down following tools on floor where I could see:

12 bundles wallpaper of blue complexions tattooed with beauty resembling cauliflowers flirting with grapes.

1 complete bucket filled with undigested dough to make it stick by.

Confused rags to pat with.

1 ironing board to stick paper on top of.

1 ladder to lift paper on when hanging him.

1 shears for cut up paper by.

“Firstly,” correspond Hon. Mrs with shears, “you must take Hon. Paper thusly and manicure edges.”

She make cut-up with shears for show how.

“Nextly you must measure wall with very careful tailorship, so Hon. Paper will fit neatly like a coat.”

I observe her did it.

“Nextly make chop off to Hon. Paper at place where he fits. Then lay him on ironing-board and lather his back completely with dough from Hon. Bucket.”

By brush she do so.

“Next Hon. Paper are ready to be lynched. Raise him tenderly by both ears while climbing ladder and spread him on wall with smoothness resembling butter. If he refuse to lay still, pat him lovingly with rags.”

She teach me that science while I stand gast to observe her skilful thumbs.

“Can you do this jobs?” she require to know.

“Elaborately,” I confiscate.

And yet I were not aware that paperhanging are like poetry, marriage, and other games--deliciously easy to look at, but less easy to do.

So Hon. Mrs Mac Frenzie depart away for make society elsewheres and I was left alonesome with that paper. Firstly I look at him long time admiring the extreme art of his complexion. I could not realise how so many grapes and cauliflowers could get together without being confused. Admiration by me!

Then I start some industry. Firstly I cut sifficient chunk of this flowery decoration so he will fit wall. This were aggrevated task to do, because when I unroll him to make measure, he roll back with rat-trap expression and burst my thumbs. I can only make him behave by putting my feet on him while holding him down to ironing board. Pretty soonly, by extreme skill of swashing, I manage to plaster his back with dough like Mrs Mac Frenzie told me.

Mr Editor, to lubricate wallpaper with paste are difficult art like greasing snakes with cold cream. There are so much longness to him that he can do one thing with front end, while accomplishing otherwise with tail. So it was. Onwards & onwards I continue to paste Hon. Wall Paper while he uncoil to any extent. Pretty soonly front end of him were drooping to carpet, and yet I continue to brush his back.

At lastly he were entirely moist and ready to be lynched. With delicious politeness I pick him up by corners and start to descend up ladder with brave expression of fireman saving actresses. But when I was nearly upward I discover one sad event. Lower end of Hon. Paper refuse to be elevated. For what reason? For reason because he had pasted himself to carpet and clung there with stupidity resembling cats.

“I must domineer this wallpaper with my personality,” I say to self. So I lift both elbows strongly in attempting to jerk him from carpet. With expression of helpless peev peculiar to angle-worms he tore in two. ½ of his flowery egotism drop stickfully to carpet. Other ½ remain affectionately clinging to my lower legs where he remain, however much I beg him to desist off.

Wallpaper, Mr Editor, resemble some female Ladies, beautiful in their complexions, but very sidewise when least expected.

So on that ladder stood me & Hon. Wall Paper clinging together like Romeo & Juliet, but not mentioning love poems. The more I loosened, the more he tightened. By time I was able to disjoint him from my legs, he had fell affectionately on my chest where he make behaviour peculiar to postage stamps. Yet I did not enrage. Diplomacy frequently succeeds where boxing gloves are footless. So I decide to conquer Hon. Wall Paper by kindness. Gently, almost shyly I ripped him from my chest at same moment so arranging my wrists that I could detach him away from my legs. Oh joyful! Soonly he were divorced from me and swinging entirely free where I hold him aloftward by his ears. This were fine moment to paste him suddenly before he understood what I was doing.

So I make quick jump at wall with determined elbows. But Hon. Paper were more sudden than me. Before I could think he looped himself sidewise and became stuck on himself.

This make curious perdiclement. Try as I should to pry him apart, he become more and more absorbed in his personality. By this time his blue complexion were so confused by finger-prints that he look entirely Bertillon. It would require mathematics to tell which was right side of him and which wrong.

Then I decide to kill him at once and try another. So I clump him up in wad resembling laundry and cast him outward by window.

This were cruel thing to do, but there are some things which look best when you can’t see them.

Next piece paper I try were less backward. He stand very tame & quiet while I measure him. He sat still and wagg his tail while I paste him by brush. I love very much to think how polite he act. Pretty soonly he were ready to be hung, so I elope up ladder filled with happy thoughts to think how happy Mrs Mac Frenzie would get when she seen her wall so broke out with buds. With art expression peculiar to Michael Angelo I upraise Hon. Wall Paper aboveward. He lay still and quiet like eggs. Adjusting my thumbs I was entirely ready to paste him when--O pounce!

Oozing damp glue from his annointed back he suddenly fall on my head and surround me where I stood on that ladder.

It were like riding an airship while being buried in a tent full of mucilage. It were like sleeping between sheets of fly-paper.

I were in a very perdiculous position. Must I leap from ladder, thusly bursting neck so far from Japan? Or must I stood there and be gradually smothered up in mural decorations?

I could feel sticky substance drooping from my hair & eyebrows. I stood on my perch like a blind bird.

“What this?” I could see a voice beside me saying so. It were Mrs Mac Frenzie, I could told by the claws in her speech.

“Gug!” I response with all the language I could. I knew she was observing my wallpaper face.

“Come down at oncely!” she holla. I obey by tittering backwards from my perch and walking on air which had a hole in it thus permitting me to fall 12 feet to central room where most of the furniture was, including Hon. Paste Bucket which got confused in everything else including me.

When I pick myself uply from that rumpus, my head was intruding from wallpaper hood like a fanciful millinary.

Hon. Floor were covered by paste, paper, and relics of where I fell.

“You done nice job!” snarred Hon. Mrs who stood in midst.

“I shall do better next place,” I recover.

“You have papered everything in the room except the wall,” she dib sarcastly.

“I are going to paper that next,” are answer for me.

“There shall never not be no Next!” she squabble, while poking me forthly into frostbite of street.

There I stood in coldness without any other overcoat except wall paper I wore.

So I slushed saddishly to trolley remembering words of Hon. Mild Standish. “If you want a thing done wrong, do it yourself!”

Hoping you do so, Yours truly, _Hashimura Togo_.

XI HON. GLADYS OBTAIN MATRIMONY

_To Editor Woman’s Page, who do so much to make family life less lonesome._

Dear Mr Sir:--

Home of Hon. Samule Scott, East Orange, N. J., is one of the nicest homes from which I ever was discharged from. When I first went there to work that family contained following list of persons:

Mrs Scott Mr ” Miss ” (retired).

This Miss Scott were young lady of 20 years complete beauty. O such smiling hair & blond eyes! How well her complexion matched her costume! Before her marriage her name was Gladys, but I are not sure what she is called now, as each American girl must change her name when she get married. This is very confusing custom to Japanese boy. I was working for that Scott family when that Hon. Gladys obtained matrimony. I never seen an American wedding before. Now I realise why so many people in these U. S. object to being married more than once.

Hon. Scott, who has been a father to Gladys all her life, arrived up to me last Tuesday P. M. and say fidgetfully,

“Togo,” he say, “there will be a wedding in this house next Satday & I wish you would be as stylish as possible in passing food. You must appear fashionable in every way, because it are customary on such occasions to look more wealthy than you are.”

“Are you going to be married again, Hon. Sir?” I ask with chivalry.

“Not if I could avoid it!” he say peevly. “It is my daughter Gladys who I shall give away.”

“To who will you donate this charming lady?” I ask out.