Part 5

“Hon. Charlie Sweetberry will be the blushing bridebroom,” he pronounce. “You remember Charlie who arrive here more & more frequently bearing flowers?”

“Distinctually,” I report. “He came with rose-bud tokens so frequently I thought that he was a florist.”

“We intend to make this wedding so joyful that we are all quite miserable preparing for it,” he describe. “The event will be shot off at high noon.”

“Are noon on a wedding day any higher than any other noon?” I require for information.

“If you paid the bills you would think so!” he explode glubly & walk in an offward direction.

Mr Editor, you would be surprised to see how much burden that wedding was to Hon. Express Co. who brought the packages! For several entire days bundles arrove in large quantities of freight. Street in front of that house was headquarters for delivery wagons. Messengers came continually bringing Merry Christmas parcels enwrapped in paper. Hon. Samule Scott, assisted by me & family, would spend long-time each day disenwrapping those parcels and gossiping about what came. Excitement. Out would drop some golden fork or swollen pitcher marked “Happy Returns.”

“Why should these be labelled ‘Happy Returns’?” I negotiate.

“Because,” pronounce Hon. Samule with depressed eyebrows, “they are all returns of wedding presents we sent other folks.”

I stand gast at this phenomenal.

Each day for 14 complete hours that hansom Scottish home stood full of dressmakers, vacuum cleaners, dentists, milliners, reporters and other necessities of life. Hon. Samule Scott walk around looking tense like a financial crisis. Mrs. Scott were always busy. When not engaged in any other housekeeping she set down and wept some tears.

“Why you wept, Hon. Lady?” I ask to know.

“I am preparing for the wedding,” she say back. “No wedding can look fashionable without a few weeps.”

Each morning Hon. Gladys Scott stand up with dressmaker and report with angry rage of girlish soprano, “You make me so nervus that screaming would seem pleasant!” Yet a few moments later she meet Hon. Chas Sweetberry in parlour & report with kitten words, “O Chas, I am so happy!”

My brain feel cross-eyed to hear this duplex conversation.

Friday night Hon. Tortoni, Italian caterman, back-up horse to front lawn and dump forth sifficient camp-chairs to furnish 1 complete picnic. Hon. Chas Sweetberry & 1 clergy man come later. They meet that Scott family, including Hon. Gladys, in parlour where they lock door and say a long ceremony, walking around & giving away several times.

When Hon. Sweetberry come outside to smoke cigaret, I say to him with banzai in my voice,

“Congratulations, Mr Sir!”

“For what?” he dib.

“For your marriage which just took place,” I encroach.

“That wasn’t marriage,” he snork. “We was just practising.”

I was confused.

* * * * *

Great date of wedding was finally there. All furniture in Hon. Parlour was fixed like pews, so all could take set-down. Mrs Scott wep some more when she seen the chairs in tiers. All that home was dressed with greenish smilax like a beautiful salad. Hon. Bridebroom arrive with silk-pipe hat over his headache. Five or six best men emerge at front door wearing Floridora clothing. Bridal-maidens came in quantities looking like they wondered who would be next. Humouristical college friends walk up carrying footware, rice & other groceries. Several hack-loads of relatives was wheeled to door.

Silence.

A clergy man encroach at side door with Rev Mr. expression.

All was prepare. Yet something was not. Hon. Samule Scott rosh up to me with quiet craze.

“Togo,” he whasper, “where are Chas, the bridebroom?”

“I seen him in aunty-room off library quarrelling with his necktie,” I report.

Surely yes! He was there in aunty-room trying to correct the nervus behaviour of his collar button.

“This is the happiest day of my life,” report Hon. Chas when dishcovered, “How my shoes hurt me!”

More silence.

All that audience now set in parlour expectfully. Humouristical college friends pass rice-package amidst eyewinks peculiar to comedians. Several relatives appear quite affectionate.

Music emerj from piano. Hon. Bridebroom with serene collar now pop forth and stand amid flowers at end of room. 2x2 now come Bridlemaidens expensively trimmed. Hon. Bride, artistically enwrapped in original Irish curtains, nextly step forth supporting her Father, who need this attention because of his quaker knees.

“You are what you say you are?” require Hon. Clergy to Bride & Broom who now stand close by.

They agree to this.

“Has somebody here an objection to this gentleman?” ask Hon. Preach to audience.

Everybody seem careless about replying. I was going to say how I thought he was too easily peeved about his neckties, but Hon. Preach neglected to wait.

When Hon. Preach explain to Bride how she must take that man for worse & more of it, she seem to feel no alarm. He warned her about several things which I could not hear. Still she was determined to be married. So Hon. Bridebroom, who seem too entranced to remember, borrow a ring from Best Man and Miss Scott became a Mrs.

Wildly onrush of friends now ensued. Kissing heard everwheres amidst sobs & other joy. Most elderly gentlemans was most dutiful about kissing Bride.

“No one shall be permitted this salute except relatives!” holla Hon. Bridebroom appearing slightly frantic.

“Then _we_ must be included,” report 16 humouristic college friends. “We are fraternity brothers to you.” They approach with happy mob.

Nextly come wedding brekfast. This was the most latest brekfast I ever passed food for. Also it was so innapropriate for brekfast, because wine was served instid of eggs. And the only toast which they ate was drank amidst speeches. Everytime somebody poke forth harsh word about Hon. Bridebroom it seem laughing-signal for all.

“This young man,” report Uncle Henry to Hon. Bride while he rose upward, “This young man remind me dishagreeably of his Uncle Hiram which led a wild life and was sent to Congress in his old age. Be careful or he will do likewise.”

The blushing Bride seem very calm. It was the Bridebroom who done nearly all the blushing.

Pretty soonly the recent Mr & Mrs Sweetberry make quick-change to railroad clothing and elope together to hack outside. While they was walking down front steps those 16 humouristic college chums suddenly give Black Hand signal.

WHOSH!!

42 gallons selected rice make cyclone upon hat-plumage of that Mrs Bride who escape with screem to carriage.

BOMB!!

12 complete carpet slippers hit Mr Bridebroom with accurate target-practice just as he was lifting his legs into that cab. More feetware mingled with rice arrive in droves and hit Hon. Carriage with angry strokes. My Samurai soul stood endwise with alarm. I should prevent this cruelty.

“O stop!” I holla, roshing forwards. “Why should you attack them young folks and drive them forth with brutality after what they has went through? Toss one more rubber boot and I shall rebuke you with my rages.”

While thusly I spoke one 2nd handed ballroom slipper stroked my hair and I walk away feeling absent in my brain.

Hoping you are the same Yours truly _Hashimura Togo_.

XII FALL CLEANING

_To Editor Good Housekeeping Magazine, who realise how collapsed home life looks when being cleaned._

Dear Mr:

Some folks is so clean they cause considerable untidiness everywheres they go. Such was Hon. Mrs August Moon of Salem, Mass, who is another of my bosses gone by. This lady got a house containing mahogany chairs which was brought over by Hon. Pilgrim Fathers when they was running ferryboat _Cauliflower_ between Salem and Grand Rapids, Mich. She revere her furniture and all her other ancestors. Each day she require me to stroke her mahogany lovingly with furniture polish.

This Hon. Lady are very superstitious about dirt. She think it are not clean to have around. She imagine dust, soot & mildew enter her house like a burgler and Togo must be a policeman to arrest it when it gets inside.

“Togo,” she say, while I am enslaving myself amidst dishwater in kitchen, “I just heard a mouse making footprints in attic. Rosh up with mop, please, and remove his muddy tracks.”

I do so.

“Togo,” she requesh nextly, “six autumn leaves has fell on the walk befront of the house. Gather them in your apron and burn them thoroughly in kitchen stove, taking care that no ashes escape.”

I do so.

“Togo,” she hypothecate, “I can observe two fly-tracks running over portrait of my ancestor, Gov. Beelzebub Biggs. Kindly to wash his face carefully with cast-steel soap and don’t offend his dignitary.”

This also I accomplish compressing the insurgent feeling that arise continuously in my elbows.

“The early bird obtains worms,” she say cheerly when I arise at 4.32 a. m. for scrubb with sudds.

“At such time as this I prefer sleep to worms,” are smart reply I make.

“To-day we shall commence housecleaning,” she report last Fryday a. m.

“_Commence_ it!” I communicate crossly like Napoleon. “When did we ever discontinue to houseclean?”

“Ah ho!” she laugh at. “What you has been doing is merely lick-and-promise. Housecleaning are different. To houseclean you must pull down everything that is up and pull up everything that is down. Home must be carried out into the back yard and throughly swep. All dust in house must be shoved out onto carpets which are on clothesline; then all carpets on clothesline must be brutably punished with clubs until dust fly back into house. And so on until exhausted.”

I could not disobey such wise demand. So I remove off coat and commence eloping up & down stair, each time carrying some variety of pianos and mahogany dresser. My suspenders bulged with gigantic strength while Hon. Mrs Moon stood near and explained how I was more weak than Irish labour.

That house were completely filled with break-a-brack and other dishes which had been shot full of holes by mean British in Battle of Revolution which occurred in 1492. There was many plates & cups, beautiful but very lame. I drop several of these in removal, and they look more broke than usual. Several of them fell down stairs ahead of me and arrived with considerable crashes.

“I estimate my loss at $580 which must be removed from your wages,” Mrs Moon say-so while she stood mourning over those fractured relicks.

I reply by saying nothing.

I rip up carpets with strength peculiar to a giant full of steam. I throw him on clothesline and trott backwards for more. I bathe Mr Moon’s painted ancesters with soap-wash till they look nearly handsome. I polish floors, door, silver & hardwear with continuous rapidity. I wash stove with sudds and clean 14 pairs gloves with gasolene.

Then another breakage occur which were too bad. I was smoothing one snobbish-looking china-closet with rags, when I axidentally broke him endwise by dropping out of window. Mrs. Moon could not help from noticing.

“$19.82 extra subtracted from your wages!” she holla arithmatically.

No intelligent reply from me.

Hon. Mrs Moon spend morning in attic opening reverend trunks and fetching forth quilts & skirts belonging to Pilgrims. These I also pin to clothes-line. Nextly I brosh wall-paper with whisk and climb to roof where I save a white cat which had crolled up drain-pipe to suicide himself. I receive no extra pay for this kindness. While doing thusly I burst $27 worth of windows and bill was sent to me by Mrs Moon who holla how much it was.

I carry 6 tons complete books from cellar to library on 3rd floor. When I find they no belong there I took them back again. I also transmit considerable bags containing coal from woodshed to basement where it look more comfortable.

Very sorry event occurred when I was washing 48 eggs shell china cups. Shelf of table upturned and all splatter to floor. Mrs Moon screech and charge it to my account.

After that I paint back porch, carry sideboards, croll over all ceilings of rooms to fish away cobwebs with broom and stuff upholstery into all lounges what need it.

Mrs Moon were a very thoughtful woman. She always thought of something more for me to do with arms and legs. When I was on top-ladder dusting chandeliers she suddenly remember her mother’s fire-screen she had not seen since Agnes was married.

“Go down cellar and open 11 boxes containing trash and see if mother’s fire-screen ain’t there.”

I do so. It were not.

“Nail them up again quickly,” she comment. “Then go to roof and sweep out chimbley.”

I elevated myself to loftly position and stood poking smok-tracks from chimbley. Just then she holla,

“Come down 1st floor, please, and ade me in removing tables upstairs.”

I do so wishing I was a bird and could fly up and down with less feetsteps.

By that time Hon. Sun were setting and I feel like doing the same. So I choose soft chair in back yard and soothe myself by flopping to it. There I reposed amidst rags, rugs, brooms, portraits, paints and other cleanly dirt.

“Why you set there so worklessly?” she require, seeing me with eagle expression.

“I have moved so much that I am now moveless,” I reply with great pathos.

She make her eyes look kind and charity.

“Maybe you tired!” she collapse with considerable gentleness.

“Ah no, Mrs Madam,” I contuse chivalrously. “I not tired--I merely exhausted.”

“Servants should be cherished as well as masters,” she say scientifically. “I acknowledge my carelessness. In enthusiasm of housecleaning I forgot you was as apt to get fatigued as any other horse. I permit you to feel weary, because you are Japanese and not strong like a Irish labour. I forgive this fault in you.”

“O thank you so many for that gentle heart!” I report back, enjoying slight tear-drop from gratitude.

“No, Togo, you may rest,” she say. “But while you are resting, would you please go out to back yard and beat a few Brussels carpets?”

Excuse me, Mr Editor, for acting so unobliged to a lady. But I could not do furthermore. My arms walk out on strike when I attempt to make them work. So I go to kitchen and arrive back with satchel grip and derby hat.

“Sweethearted Mrs Madam,” I report, “I realise how my mind is too lightweight for your serious employment. Therefore I quit. How much you estimate I owe you for damage, breakage & crackage I done to-day?”

“1230.50 would cover everything,” she suppose.

“At my present wage-pay of $5 per weekly,” I snuggest, “I should be very elderly Japanese before last instalment was pay off. Therefore I shall not encumber you by waiting so long.”

“But what shall I do about that bill?” she require nervely.

“Ah, Mrs Madam, you are honest lady,” I bounce back. “I are sure I can trust you to keep that bill more better than anybody else.”

“You done my household considerable injury,” she sum up.

“I are willing to forgive that also,” I repartee. “Therefore, if you will present me with 50c out of what I owe you, I shall retreat by trolley and leave your home safe from me.”

She contribute 25c from purse, because she say she can’t get no more change until her husband get back. That gentleman are in Arabia collecting rugs, so I decide it was too long to wait for 25c.

When nextly seen I was standing on depot-station in New England R. R. asking Hon. Ticket Merchant if he would sell me fare to some city where folks never clean house except when scolded by Brd of Health.

Hoping you are the same Yours truly _Hashimura Togo_.

XIII APARTMENT HOUSE LIFE IN NEW YORK

_To Editor Home & Lady page whose wisdom is furniture for many apartments._

Dear Mr:

Excuse my handwriting for being cramped this time--I have been living in one N. Y. apartment-house where everything is squeezed. I tell you.

A short time of yore I seen following advertisement-news in N. Y. Paper:

WANTED: Small-size Japanese required to do housework in fashionable apartment. Must be able to squeeze deliciously tight between furniture and to take up no room whatsoever. No fat persons required. Apply to Mrs. Buckingham Jinx, Matterhorn Apts.

I was entirely proud & nervus, Mr Editor, to apply to that jobs. Formerly I had been simple, jayseed Japanese working in ½ size towns where nothing was large. But here I was in great city of N. Y. where everything was giganterous & big. Home-life here, I thought, must be unlimited like Pennsylvania Depots.

This show how thoughtless we are when we think.

I go to address of that Jinx lady, which is at No 333 W 333rd Street, comfortable neighbourhood where 20 miles of sky-scrape homes are clumped together attempting to look quaint. I was proud to see their swollen size. How expansive it was for Japanese Schoolboy to be employed in city where everything was so big that even small cottages look like Flatiron Bldgs! Already I begin to feel pity for Peoria where folks must choke in 2 story houses.

Pretty soonly I arrive to Matterhorn Apts. How stylishly enormalous it was! I never observed a place with more upstairs. 12 complete stories I could count with my sore neck. And so fashionable to go into! Its frontside entrance was filled with marble halls, fountains, brassy electricity, golden elevators, noble niggero boys in uniform of admirals. This was most biggest entrance in America, and I was certainly sure that folks what live in those apartments upstairs must enjoy such grand-size rooms they have to ride motorcycles between parlour and dinning-room.

While thusly I thought Swedish gentleman in proud overalls arrive up.

“What you wish, standing there foolishly?” he require.

“Do you own this palace?” I ask to know.

“Yes,” he report peevly. “I are the Janitor.”

“I am suprised by this Matterhorn house,” I explode. “The mountainous steepness of its apartments apalls me.”

“The mountainous steepness of its rents would apall you more, if you seen them,” he explain with insulting eyebrows.

So he poke me to elevator where I was uplifted to 9 floors. Folks living in apartment house leads very up-and-down life. When they go outside they must be elevated downwards, when they return they must be vice versa. It are impossible to see how folks can be level in such home life, and yet it is.

Hon. Mrs Jinx, entirely Duchess appearing lady, meet me at doorway with Vanderbilt nose.

“This are my apartment,” she express, pointing to a hallway surrounded by expensive looking cells filled with gilty furniture, pianolas, painted portraits, rugs and mahoganish tables resembling J. P. Morgan.

“Yes,” I report. “This are your apartment--but where is your home?”

“In N. Y.,” she report with Waldorf expression, “home is where we pay our rent.”

Mr Editor, when that lady show me her apartment I was jigged by surprise. Each room was less than life-size, yet it contain wealth resembling Buckingham. Mahoganish doors, plush walls, luxury here and there--but where was there room to live in?

“This are drawing-room,” she indicate, making points to Pullman-car compartment containing gas-log and French-speaking furniture. I should like to set down in such a room, but the chairs was in the way.

She show me dinning-room. It contain four-plate-power table, portraits of fish on walls and shelf with several beery steins with German motto, “Drinken, Dranken, Drunken.”

“This cozy room are good for small banquets,” she acknowledge.

“Small banquets is oftenly the most limited,” I encouridge.

She show me library.

“This are called the snuggery,” she condole. I felt very congested to look at it. Folks must snug very snugly to snuggle into such a snuggery. On high top shelf was following books to show it was a library: “Pilgrum’s Progress,” “Life of John Drew,” “Bradstreet on Financial Failures,” “Blue Book of N. Y. Smarty Set.”

Under table was poker chips to entertain scholars while reading.

Nextly she show me kitchen. O shocks! It were size like the interior of a upright piano. Hon. Gas Stove look chilly from setting too close to Hon. Ice Box which was hot from contax with gas stove.

“This Kitchen are small but comfortless,” she explain braskly. “It are slightly compressed, yet there is room for everything to cook with.”

“One thing to cook with there is no room for,” I snuggest.

“What should that be?” she require.

“The cook,” I explain.

“Smallish Japanese is capable of squeezing,” she fire back.

Nextly she ope door by Kitchen and show me one dark-complexioned cubby hole to look at.

“What a nice vegetable closet!” I report. “But too small, perhaps, for large cabbages.”

“That are not a vegetable closet--it are a servant’s bedroom,” she develop.

I would be astonished, but there was no room.

Sardines gets used to living in cans, Mr Editor; so I soonly became acquainted with how to live in N. Y. flat without knock-off of elbow. It were umpossible to turn around in all rooms, but I could get out of doors by backing up.

This Mrs Jinx got a husband who are a broker, but not yet broke. He come home nights long enough to change clothes and take his wife to some other Roof Garden. For conversation he complain of his debts.

“Why should we live in flat we can’t afford?” he jowl, reaching across dinning-room to get a match.

“Mr Husband!” report Hon. Mrs with spasma, “how could you forget to remember our position? In this house live 2 families intimately acquainted with a Trust. Also, look at our main entrance downstairs--it are a bigger waiting room than the Grand Central Station and twice as lonesome. This house got the brightest buttons, swiftest elevator and crosset janitor in New York.”

Sometime Mrs Jinx have company for dinner. Her dinning-room was sifficient for 4. Therefore she ask 10. N. Y. folks is conveniently compressible, especially when fat. Folks wearing diamonds in front of them would arrive to these dinners and explain why they wasn’t at Newport.

“How nicely you are situated here,” they snuggest, looking sidewise.

“O surely yes!” obligate Hon. Mrs. “We have splandid view of the airshaft from library window and our dinning-room overlook some of the finest advertising signs in the city.”

“So fortunate you are with so much room!” say lady wearing diamond bib on chest. “In our apartment we are pusitively crowded.”

No one could believe it.

“Why do you keep a canary?” ask one gentleman of one lady.

“Because I have no room for a parrot,” say one lady to one gentleman.

And so onward.

My cookery is deliciously abominable, thank you, in that 1-8 size kitchen. Yet those N. Y. persons is so refined they can disguise any taste by politeness.

“You have a chef, I suspect?” require one brokerish gentleman gnawing my chicken crokets.

“Two of them,” deceive Mrs Jinx with 5th Ave expression. I arrive to room looking proud with dishes. “This Togo are my faithful butler inherited from my grandfather who was a lawyer and kept many retainers.”

I am alarmed to hear such large conversation in such small space. And yet I acted very intelligent, considering my stupidity.

My life in that compartment become more and more homeless as time relapsed. Hon. Mrs Jinx were the most stay-away lady I ever seen. She say she go out to get the air; and I could not blame her. For 2 entire weeks she was somewheres else all time. In early a. m. after 10 o’clock she go down town for get hats, manicure & other jewelry. By noon she telephone, “I shall not be home lunch, because I am too busy wasting time with Mrs Swatts-Byng.” By night she telephone, “I shall not be home dinner, because I am taking my Husband to eat at Astoria hotel, afterwards we shall go see musical-comical theater.”

Lonesomeness arrived to me as much as that apartment would hold. It were true I could breathe more with less persons taking up room; yet my thoughts became all by themselves. I feel like Hon. Robinson Caruso on a vacant island.

One early a. m. Hon. Mrs uprose for breakfast early at 11 o’clock. She approach to me with tear-drop eye.