The Donaldsonville chief. [volume] (Donaldsonville, La.) 1871-current, 1873-07-05

which has been wound around the
end Of the rope to facilitate its intro
duction into The holes has come off,
and you have to roll it up again. Then,
after you have pulled through eight
holes, your wife makes the discovery
that you have started wrong. The
way that rope comes out Of those holes
again makes your wife get closer to
the door. Then you try again, and,
get it tangled in your legs. By this
time you notice that this is the small
est bedroom in the house, and you
call the attention Of your wife to the
fact by observing: "Why on earth
don't you open the door? Do you
want to smother met" She opens the
door and you start again, and she
helps you with the lamp. First she
puts it on the wrong side of the rail,
then she moves it SO the heat comes
up from the chimney and scorches
your nose. just as you need it the
most you lose sight of it entirely, and
turning around find her examining
the wall to see how that man has put
on the whitewash. This excites you,
and brings out the perspiration in
greater profusion, and you declare
you will kick the beadstead out of
doors if she doesn't come around with
that light. Then she comes around.
Finally the cord is laid all right, and
you proceed to execute the very deli
cate job Of tightening it. The lower
ropes are first walked over. This is
done by stepping on the first one and
sinking it down, hanging to the head
board with the clutch of death. Then
you step with the other foot on the
next line, spring that down lose your
balance, grab for the head board, miss
it, and come down in Il heap. This is
repeated more or less times across the
length of the bed, the only variety
being the new places You bruise. The
top cords are tightened in another
way, and you now proceed to that.
You first put one foot OH each rail,
which spreads you some, and as you
do it the frightful thought strikes you
that ii one Of these feet should slip
over, nothing on earth would prevent
you from being split through the chin.
Then you pull up the first rope until
your eyes seem to be on the point of
rolling out Of their sockets, and the
blood in your veins fairly groans, and
Oh being convinced that you an'tpull
it any further without crippling your
self for life, you catch hold of the next
rope and draw that up, and grunt.
Then you move along to the next, and
pull that up, and grunt again. Just as
you have got to the middle and COM
mence to think that you arc about
through, even if your joints will never
again set as they did before, you some
way or other miss the connection, and
find that you have got to go back and
do it all over. Here you pause for a
few minutes of oracular refreshment
and then slowly and carefully work
your way back. You don't jump down
and walk back, because you are afraid
to spread out in that way again. You
sort Of waddle back. working the way
inch by inch, and with consumate
patience. A man thus stretched across
a bedstead becomes SO excited as to
lose his presence Of mind. It would be
instant death if he did. Then he goes
over it again, waddling and pulling,
groaning and grunting, while his wife
moves around with the lamp, and tells
him to take it easy, and not scratch
the bedstead any more than he can
help, and that she can't tell which
creaks the most, he or the bedstead.
And after he gets through she has the
audacity to ask him to bring in the
fea ther beds. In the dead of night
that man will steal up to that room
and look at the bedstead and swear.
-Dambu,y News.