Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1868-06-26

was ever conceived in Japan ITSELF And
do not recall the only piece OF gratifica
ton connected with that bath---namely,
the loud, gong-like sound given
out by the bottom as my weight
turned its convexity into its reverse or con-
cave state. This was pleasure, true pleas
ure, even in the midst of trouble; for oh,
the horror of that bath! What was the
use of repeating to one the rhythmical
legend of Dirty Jem, who cried at being
washed, who loved not to be clean? Jem
was in the right of it, when cleanliness en-
tailed such sufferings as fell to my lot. In
the cold weather, it was shiver, shiver,
shiver, even when a blazing fire existed in
the nursery; for did not one side OF ones
little person scorch and itch, while the
other was gosse-skinny and blue Torture
of fortunes, being washed! And with such
a nice soft bit OF flannel, too, as Betty used
to say. Tell me not of soft pieces OF liam
mel. Flannel has never been made so soft
but it would irritate the Juvenile skin,
without that abomination of yellow soap,
whose hideous SLAYER rushed into ones
eyes, up ones nose, and stopped ones little
ears to the point of deafness; and then,
when cry was uttered in the poignancy
naughty, and cross and ill-tempered! All,
Betty, Betty, that giantess of thine own
soap-loving nature might, armed with fian-
mel and scrubbing-brush, serve thee even
as thou servedest me!
| shudder now at the recollection OF
those red and brawny arms, and those
hands that would crack and chap in winter
rough hands, with raspy fingers, whose
rNn ,fc- hoy ho6 re hnc
blunt ends used to be ramed into my
of allmy little depressions, coming violent.
ly into collision with my nose, and nearly
gouging me every morning, even though
they were screened with huckaback.
What was the good of being made clean
One only grew dirty again; and then fol
lowed the torture. Who wanted ones
wretched little head to be rubbed all over
with piece of hard yellow soap, all cor,
ners, and to feel the lather come tickling
and trickling down ones corpus And
then, too, the warm douche, when ones
unfortunate little head piece resembled a
round ball All! that sluicing, or, as Betty
termed it, "slooshing" -breath-cutting-
mouth opened to cry out-water, warm
and soapy, rushing in-eyes, ears, nose
|
ones struggles for the breath of life to be
called temper!
can pity myself now, as recall those
| sufferings. Can [ not bring up from mem
ory's depths my demon countenance
wrinkled brow, set teeth, and Spartan-like
| determination not to cry when the after
torments commenced Granted that my
| hair was curly; was it fault of mine !
Granted that it would run up into knots
after the application, in concentric-circu
lar fashion, of the huckaback; was [ tC
blame for natures freaks in my manufac
tre? | trow not. Yet had to suffer fol
them ALL
What recompense was it to be called a
nice, clean boy, and to descend to break
fast red and shiny ?-glowing with health
| they called it. Who wanted to be clean
who wished to be washed? 1t was the
nightmare of my young soul; so that
woke in dread, to lie shivering till was
| fetched by Betty for dressing.
Yellow soap? Yes, it was yellow soar
in those days, for notified had no home
with us; while emolient old brown
| Windsor and its relative the white, were
kept for the exclusive use of the elders
| There was no honey-soap then, no al
mond, no primrose, sunf1ower-oil, ely
cerine, curd, or any other Of those sweetly
scented, saponaceous compositions, sc
| tempting in appearance as to afford theil
own excuse for bite being taken from
some fruit-like side, as it peeps from nest
Of lace-paper No; it was yellow SOAP
then--hard, household yellow-bought by
the score of bars to dry, for economy's
sake in the store-room caustic, sud-froth
ing, strong-smelling, horrible stuff; cleans
| ing, it is true, but at what cost to forms
not yet grown callous by friction and
worldly usage.
They say that it is temper-but | deny
| it-that early nursery chorus that arises
| when the sweet morning slumber is being
enjoyed after late office-Work, writing
: what not There might be little pettish
ness, perhaps, upon bitter, grim, " intry
morning; but the cries arise even upon
| those gladstone early days of spring, OF
youthful summer, when the fresh matir
| air is like champagne to the thirsty soul
and man regrets that he has not risen ear
lier, to quaff sweet Natures bounteous
draught.
| If [ made noise when I was washed, il
| was because the process hurt me +; anC
| therefore I sympathize with the screamers
| in the nursery.
Life is hard hill to climb, and our little
ones might well add their groan-their ap
peal for sympathy, even though it fell
upon needless ears. Healthy let them be
made, by all means, but not by worrying
them with that skeleton of so many cup
boards-the medicine-chest; and clean
too, let them be, but not at the expense OF
SO much scrub -
odd you ring, sir"
"Ring! of course / did! What or
earth is that child shrieking so for? Tel
them to keep the nursery door shut. What
IS the matters"
"Please, sir, it's only Master Bobby
being washed. - Chambers Journal.