Beaufort Republican. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1871-1873, 1873-07-10
That Corded Bedstead.
Why VIII 1fothers-in-Law Insist on
Sleeping I'm Them1

Why VIII Mothers.in.Law Insist on
Sleeping I'm Them1
It is little singular that your wife's
mother will persist in sleeping on o
corded bedstead. But she does. You
don't think so much of this until you
are called upon to put it up, which event
generally takes place in the evening.
The bedstead has been cleaned in the
afternoon, and, having been soaked
through with hot water, is now ready
for putting up. Your wife holds the
lamp, and takes charge of the converse
ton. The rope has been under water
several times in the course of the clean
ing, and having swollen to diameter
greater than the holes in the rails, has
also got into fit Of coiling up into
mysterious and very intricate forms.
You at first wonder at this, but pretty
soon wonder ceases to be virtue, and
you then scold. The thread which has
been wound around the end of the rope,
to facilitate its introduction in the holes,
has come off, and you have to roll it up
again. Then, after you have pulled it
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
smallest 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 me ?"
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 profu-
sion, and you declare you will kick the
bedstead out 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 delicate 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 on the next line, spring that
down, lose your balance, grab for the
head-board, and come down in 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 frightened in another
way, and you now proceed to that. You
first put one foot on each rail, which
spreads you some, and as you do it the
frightful thought strikes you that If one
of those feet should slip over, nothing
on earth would prevent you from being
split through to 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 on being con-
vinced that you can't pull it any further
without crippling yourself, 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 rs you have got to the
middle and commence to think that you
are about through, even if your joints
will never again set as they did before,
you some way or other miss the connec-
ton and find that you have got to go
back and do it all over. Here you
pause for q few minutes of oracular re-
freshment, 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 consummate
patience. A man thus stretched across
bedstead never becomes 80 excited as
to lose his presence of mind. 1t would
be instant death to him 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
feather beds. In the dead of night
that man will steal up to that room and
look at that bedstead and swear.-Dan-
bury NeU8.