davidaulloa/AmericanStories huggingface dataset:
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

submit a respectful question, addressed
mainly to all lady-wives whomsoever?
Namely:
Why shouldn't the nominal head Of the
household, now as in the gone time, be
duly and mercifully notified Of the exact
date and the hour thereof when the
housekeeping misery is to begin, thus
enabling him to incontinently stampede
and obliterate himself from the scene Of
gloom? With his long face. his lost
strayed-or-stolen air. his querulous fu-
tility, his vacuous suggestions, his all
hope-have-I-aband scowls. his in
the-wayness, isn't the nominal head Of
household while housekeeping opera
tons are in progress merely an unspeak-
able, nth-power, urth-dimension, mouse
colored nuisance? Isn't he excess bag
gage, fifth wheel. work of superero-
CATION, SO to speak?
Why, then, does the modern wife want
him around, even at meal times, while
the housekeeping horror Is going on?
There can be, and there is, but one an
swer to this, and the answer Is copy
book bromidiom, at that; which the same
is:
Misery Loves Company.
AS the thing works out nowadays, when
you get no warning whatever, it is an
upper-case TRAGEDY.
By some whimsy chance Gas II to
make the contrast Of conditions, Few
hours later, all the more pO1gnant), the
breakfast is unusually good on the
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

the day before, and draws some weak.
groundy tea (she can't find the tea
strainer), and then she summons you to
the feast.
What am l going to sit on?" you
ask her, trying to look sad and sweet.
for there are no chairs visible.
"Wait q minute" she says; and she
disappears, and when she returns shc
Is carrying the cover Of the sewing
machine, which Is the only wooden
thing in the house still unpublished. and
you up-end that and sit down on it for
your grisly meal
aren't you going to eat anything?"
you ask her. as she stands, hands on
hips. watching you.
ooh. I'm not hungry: I never am
when I'm cleaning house." she replies
Which gives you a moment of marvel
ing over the unpenetrable kinkiness OF
the sex: for when man works hard
he gets hungry, and the harder wom-
an works the less hungry she becomes
figure that out II you can!
cts q wonder" she says, sort Of re-
hectively, after a while, you didn' t
get your lunch down town today"
You stare at her, agape.
"How in the dickens did I know I'd
ind this riot here" you ask her,
peevishly.
ooh. wen. you might have surmised
It, mightn't your" she chirps. pleas
antly. Surmised It? How? you won
der. But you have to give it up.
get away from the house. but the
thought Of its desolation weighs heav-
lily upon you all the afternoon. You
know. however. that you can't frame
up a scheme to run away now that the
housekeeping job has been started.
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

morning Of the fatal day. The bacon
and eggs are just right, the coffee
possesses rare tang. Nature smiles
in unison with these excellences. The
sunlight streams mellowly through the
windows. The birds are at their mat
ing mathis. The cat washes herself
serenely on sunny patch Of the rug.
other end of the table, faces you as
smilingly as if the word conspiracy
We're unknown to her; as blandly as if
she had never in all her life even
heard of such a thing as housekeeping.
You become unusually expansive over
the meal You explain things about
the tariff Peace reigns The world
swims in rose. You set off jauntily for
work. humming Or whistling an air.
dear?' she asks you in the vestibrle.
Owe are writing about folks who live
In regular human houses, not in flats.
IF the lunch is going to be as good
as the breakfast, why, l certainly am,
you chirp in reply; and, poor, poor dolt!
you don't catch even sparkle of the
steely CLINT in her eye!
Still blithe, in tune with the days
beauty. and pitifully unsuspicious OF
corner on your way home for lunch.
With your hand on the gate clutch
you stop smack In your tracks. What
are those things piled crushingiy atop
OF the lilac bush in front OF the porch
the lilac bush whose swollen, peep
full buds had, in the morning. given
you provision Of clusters te,s Of ,T Purplish.
Why, they're hall rugs. that's what
they are: rugs that, having been beaten
and dubbed and pounded by the dis
1ainful chore man whose carpet-beat-
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

her. sepulchrally. stepping into the hall
to submit the question to her
''Pipes?" she rep les, vaguely, standing
up straight, from bending over the chair
being polished. with the gummy-looking
rag in one hand and the smelly bottle OF
polish in the other. Pipes? What kind
Of pipes?"
No. You do not ask her IL she supposes
you are adverting to those eighteen-feet-
used in placer mining or hydraulic opera
tons. You don't dare!
HUH is about all you say. That's
about all. But it's enough.
>'I shall be greatly obliged" she says.
looking straight at you. III you will be
good enough to stop huh-ing so much and
go downstairs when I ask you. I'll be
down there in . few minutes. This Is no
place for you. Can't you see it's all torn
up?"
GAS il you couldn't see 1t. you know!
AS II you were so internally blind that
you couldn't-couldn't- Oh. we'll!
"well. can wash my hands, can't I?''
you ask her, humbly, making as II to go
into the bathroom.
''Yes, at the kitchen sink" she replies.
Inerc'lessly. There are two or three chilli
foniers and things In the bathroom and
you couldn't get in there II you tried:
Now will you pul-lease 60 downstairs and
wait for me to fix you something to
eat?'
What else 10 there for you to do? You
go down to the kitchen, narrowly escaping
breaking your neck In tripping over OBJ
stacles that have been f1endishly placed
in your path by somebody or other you'd
Just like to know who) with designs on
your life: and you wash your hands at
the kitchen sink (stiA piled up with the
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

would edge in between couple OF raw
ONES she would wax to the window from
The breakfast table and gaze rehecuveiy
a. the scrubbed sky and then at the
brirht sunshine glinting through the
sprouting boughs and checkering the
vivid new grass.
Nhereupon you, with your newspaper
propped up on the sugar bowl whist you
slipped your coffee and read the headlines.
would Immediately be swept by that
sort of a domestic premonition which In
the honey but expressive vernacuiar Is
called hunch-
Your bunch, nine times out OF ten' was
kee-rect.
Dear me, it's time to clean house"
she would say in a detached impersonal
way. continuing to gaze dreamily out OF
the window.
You would not make any reply to this.
But YOU would begin to think rapidly on
The subject of out-of-town matters. &C.
tual or imaginary.
II hate the thought OF it." she would
proceed. still in that far-away tone. De
cause ii has been such iong. long WIN
ter, ana the house 10 positively . pig
PEN
This would draw from you mere
grunt, which might have meant anything.
II generally meant that you didn't see
anything about the house that suggeeteo
q pigpen. Ne regular man ever breathed
who could perceive the slightest need Tor
that dismal ancient woman's rite called
"cleaning house.
"Yes." shs would 60 on. determined Il
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

sionally condescend to notice when
sweet carrots and crunchy peanuts and
other things are offered to me. But not
today. Inadvertently" the elephant
Observation-Disclosures have permit
ted my thoughts to stray back to the
scenes and environment in which my
earlier years were passed, and l do not
care to be interrupted. I am thinking of
the jungle In the springtime. OF the ten
der juicy grain cultivated for my beneft,
and how I enjoyed myself among 1t,
trampling what 1 could not eat.
and I am thinking, too. Of the hour
I used to go down to the great river to
was muddy and sweet from the rains in
the hills, and Of how We used to duck
the young people. And Of that day, too,
when I, child Of less than fifty years,
was lured by two traitorous cousins to
enter a ring of stakes, there to be beaten
with great chains until I became quiet.
And I-but why should I waste my time
with thee when it is the springtime again,
with the sun dancing at my feet and
many thoughts to be neatly arranged
within my head!'
And my lord the elephant shifted his
eyes from me and began to swing his
trunk, with the clinging wisp Of hay, to
and fro once more.
The lion seemed spring fevery that day,
too. but his disposition is different. He
was restless and his eyes were angry
and his name briStled like King Charles
neck ruff. The elephant is a philosopher,
but the lion isn't-not even a little bit.
He Is always asking himself questions
for which there is no solution. He can't
understand why he should be shut up In
little room and fed on chunks Of killed
meat, when, from between the bars Of
his cage, he can see SO many fat people
roaming around loose and even some at
tractive children, the very sight of whom
makes his jaded appetite feel better.
Mr.. Lion was feeling particularly mean
the day I was out there at the Zoo. and
Mrs. Lion, who lives next door, kind of
reflected his sourness. Every now and
then the king-and he looked one, every
inch of him. with his grave st. Bernard
face and his great tawny body and
flashing eyes-would rise to his feet, look
at the zigzag of sun and shadow on the
floor and sniff the warm and scented
air that got In. a breath at time,
through the open door. to blow away the
mingled odors of the animal house. Often
he would lash the air with his tasseled
tail and roar in true jungle fashion until
the very atmosphere in the vicinity
seemed to split and shatter and beat
like little hammers upon the shrinking
eardrumS.
''See how angry the lion is said the
folks standing around.
But the king wasn't angry. He was
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09
CLARENCE l. CULLEN WRITES ON SPRING HOUSEKEEPING

breakfast dishes, because M'linda's been
SO busy, using a hunk Of gritty-yallery
soap. and you wipe them with a greasy
dish-towel; and you feel as If you
wouldn't give 20 cents for all that life
holds in actually or promise.
Mlinda. washing the dining-room win
dows. occasionally turns her head to
gaze upon you with sardonic aloofness.
You step out on the back porch, and, for
want of something better to do. ask the
carpet-beating chore man how he's max
ing out. He stops beating for mere
fraction Of an instant, stakes you to a
squelching leer out of the tail Of his eye
and goes ahead pounding the daylight
out of the carpets. He doesn't want to
be bothered with you, that's plain. No
body wants to be bothered with you. You
are excess baggage, and you know it.
After long while the mistress of the
household, with her nose SINNER than
ever, comes downstairs. Haunting right in
your teeth that hannellette house jack
ct that you loathe, and she spreads a
napkin on the cover of one Of the sta
tionary washtubs in the kitchen. and
puts out the clammy, perspiry bologna,
and chops off a couple slices Of bread,
and warns over some macaroni left from
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

sit down in that chair! I've just polished
it and it isn't dry yeti"
Sure enough. 1t isn't dry. The chair
sticks glueily to your hand when you
try to let go OF It,
well, where can I sit down, them"
you ask her. piteously.
Nowhere she replies, out Of hand, in
a hard, calloused tone. I've polished all
of the chairs all over the house. Don't
you get enough sitting down at your Of
flee, pray?''
(And how is that for a woman's unrea-
sonable, irritating question-sitting down
at your Office, when you've been working
like a dawg all the morningO
You wander disconsolately back to your
den, in the rear, saying sulkily to yourself
that if you've got to wait a week or two
for something to eat, why, you might as
well have a pull at your pipe, anyhow.
But that doesn't work out, either. Your
den looks as IL it had been pounced upon
by one of those murky green cyclones
that slap the state of Kansas somewhere
between Atchison and Wichita. Pipes.
pipes, Ell? Ha, Ha! You haven't got a
pipe in the world That morning you'd
owned at least twenty.
Whats become of my pipes?' you ask
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

That would be. too diaphanous. as It
were. But you hate to go home for din
ner. You hate it SO much that you stop
on your way to play a couple of games
Of billiards with fellow you meet in
order to defer 1t as long as possible.
But finally you've just got to go to be
in time for dinner CTS there going II
be any dinner. thought" you wonderJ,
and you go home and find the place
just exactly as it had been at lunch,
with no progress whatever made to-
ward Strengthening things out.
You suddenly remember, after reach
ing home. that you've a couple Of tick
cts for the symphony concert that even
ing-tickets that you had to stand In
line for an hour to get week before.
"Oh, I couldn't think Of going" your
wife says when you mention the tick
cts to her. I'm too tired"
Whereupon you call up on the phone
a lot of people and ask them If they
want couple of tickets for the symph-
Gny concert. Nobody, apparently, wants
them badly enough to send messen-
ger for them. So you hand them to
the chore man.
rs it good show?" he asks you,
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

suspiciousIy. accepting the tickets with
grfmy gingerly hand.
Great. Immense! Thrilling!" you tell
him. The chore man goes to the hide
Gus bother Of washing his face and
hands to take in the great show that
lowing day he glares at you as II he'd
dearly love to stick a knife I'm you.
Dear me, ache all over-every bone
In my body aches" your wife walls q
little while before bedtime. Il believe
I'll have to be rubbed
Then you have to stink out to the
corner drug store in your slippers and
with your overcoat hunched up around
your neck to get some camphorated
oil. and when you return you perform
masseur movements where the ache Is
keenest-between her shoulder blades;
for doing which (noticing how you
pant over the job she rewards you by
saying, Mercy on us. my dear, you
ought to do something to keep your
flesh down. You are getting so puffy
and wheezy!"
Then you go to bed. The bed has
been pushed into a corner OF the room,
and when you wake up in the middle
Of the night and find yourself plastered
sleepy confusion that you're in a cell
in the county jail awaiting indictment
for murder.
Mr.. Stone Hatchet of the Cave Dwell
ing Age was pretty foxy in coming
along at the period he did. All that
Mrs. Stone Ratchet had to do was to
sweep the dinosaur bones out of the
cave with a branch Of a tree, and 10!
the housekeeping job was all over and
done with!
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

missioner is seated at the same desk at
which Hon. Commissioner Macfarland
worked. 1t is early morning 60 a.m)
and from The street floats the music OF
the tune of industry, the clatter of fiat
car wheels and the honk-honks of motor
cars. Outside his door the Great Hibbs
clips from the papers the news which
the sly reporters have managed to CLEAN
the day before.
Tableau-It would seem to be a group
OF Distinguished Citizens which obtrudes
itself through the open door Is the
Hon. Commissioner within? He is Take
q seat, gentlemen. Cards? And for the
space of minute the gentlemen gaze
Of the pictures on the walls, at the door,
at the floor. anywhere except at each
other That's a fact: it always happens.
a delegation in the Hon. Commissioner s
ente-room never looks at itself.
Walk in,
Ahem.
I'VE come this morning, Mr. Commits
Eioner, in the interest of Mr.. Umptydump
Ecaggs a citizen of this community for
fifty years. He seeks an appointment as
chief of the bonehead division. We have
here petition signed by all the street
gar conductors in Seattle, by the men,
hers of the Slumber Club. the officers of
the Hop Pickers' Association, and the
ladies of the South Alexandria Clam and
Beer Club
Thus the Commissioner:
What qualifications does MIR. ScaggS
present for appointment as chief bone
head
'.Why. sir. he has driven cart for
thirty years. Once he voted three times
for somebody out in Arkansas without
being caught, and he is we'll known as
the only man in the District of Columbia
against whom nothing evil can be said
Mo money can stick to his fingers, be-
cause he has lost both hands.
Whereupon they retire. and the ap-
plication, the Endorsements, the petit
tions and all other papers are sent
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

metaphor) at the masthead to sing out
Breakers ahead Which is why Ito
employ just one more figure) one Is al
ways caught asleep at the switch
See what the er-education of women,
the development of their dormant foNl-
ness, has done for us. Just see!
For the time indubitab'y was, in the
dead-as-the-dodo age of wifely candor.
when one did receive timely warning OF
the impending misary, known since the
epoch of the Hyksos Kings of Egypt as
spring housekeeping. But that halcyon
time now is one with Nineveh and Tyre
and the SHOWS of yesteryear.
1t used to work out about as follows:
\ few weeks after the vernal equinox.
when the buds of tree and hedge were
beginning to expand into LEAKAGE, and an
occasional baImy, warmish-zephry day
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09
back to the executive Office to be filed
and filed and filed-and filed!

back to the executive once 10 De nleO
and filed and filed-and filed!
kk
Tableau again! 1t is another delega
ton Of prominent citizens. The same
again. and the Commissioner awaits.
Ahem!
1--WE call, sir. in the interest Of Flynn
McSweet, who is anxious to become as
sistant helper in the gum band depart
ment Mr.. McSweet is totally blind
and, therefore, cannot see the defects
of his superiors. and will consequently
make no harsh remarks about them.
In stretching a rubber band to 80
around bunch Of red tape he has no
equal When he travelled with the circus
he could sell more pink lemonade than
boss himself He is great on swimmins
on his back and is the originator OF
the scheme to eat ice cream in shower
bath on hot days. We have here Gre
dentials@
In comes a delegation Of ladies who
want Willie B. Waterboy made chi ef
inspector of the rum dumbs They
say his mother could sing higher So
prano and his father lower bass than
any one in the whole village choir back
in Missouri, and that his grandfather
was shot in the back OF the leg at tn.
battle OF Red Hill.
Next a large cluttering delegation
comes wanting to place Mr.. Nose
Washington on the board OF assistant
chicken coop assessors. They say Nose
is great on catching crabs off the Long
bridge He is the man who assisted the
police in catching the crook who stole
a bag of peanuts off Silvetro de Clio
vannf's stand that time, and altogether
is the man for the job.
And more come. and more and more
and more And by that time 1t is
o'clock. and Commissioner Johnston
has invited his copfreres on the board
to have lunch with him in his office.
Perhaps the other two Commissioners
enjoy that lunch (perhaps it should be
called luncheon, seeing that it came
from Massachusetts, avenue), but IN
Commissioner Rudolph's breast there
rants and raves a mighty question
1t is:
Il wonder why I thought this would
be an easy job"
T WENT out to the Zoo the other day.
Yep. Just naturally quit work took
the afternoon off, and loafed. Guess it
was the spring fever. or something like
that. But il / had it the animals were
worse.
Goodness knows there's no reason why
they shouldn't have it. The jungle FOLK
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

know more about spring and the other
seasons in one little minute than you and
/ and the rest OF us will ever learn In a
long-drawn-out lifetime. They'd tell us
things. too, If they could only get into
our foolish way of talking. that would
make our mouths open wide and our
eyes just pop out OF our heads. For they
are very wise, those jungle folk at the
Zoo with the wisdom of ancient under
standing that dates back to the time
the gods walked the EARTH long, long be-
fore the big food. when the world was
washed clean and became shiny and fr1v-
olous and new.
Out where the jungle folk come from
they don't have q spring like ours. There's
no great melting Of winters snow, no
great rushing of ice-crowded rivers, no
they have a spring just the same and
they think it great deal nicer than ours
There is time of great heat, when
even the jungle people, from the chatter
INCEST monkey to the most dienified lion.
are content to lie in the shadow of tree
or cave. awaiting the quickly dropped
curtain Of the tropical night, to prowl on
the hunting grounds. Then come the
big rains. when it is really very disagree
able in the jungle and the folk only
the time. talking about how the sea-
sons are changing and how much harder
it rained this year than last.
y .
Then comes the spring-their spring.
The rains cease as II by magic, the earth
sweats. steams and dries; growing things
just fairly leap from the earth, and the
jungle folk feel good all over. 1t is
their springtime, YOU see. Not one Of
them could tell you-even if it weren't be-
meath his dignity to talk In the way We
do-way he knows 1t is spring. But he
just does.
Somehow or other the earth smells diff
ferent to the jungle folk when their
springtime comes around. They like the
feel of the warm sun on their blinking
eyes they like to brush against the new.
fresh green forest things and to breathe
the sweet, clean air. And do you know
that old couplet, that oft-quoted bit of
poesy:
I'm the spring a lvelier iris shines upon the
FURNISHED dove.
In the spring a young mans fancy lightly turns
to thoughts of love-.
Goodness gracious me, The jungle folk
knew all about that long before there
were any young men. 1t is one of the
bits of ancient understanding that comes
down to them from the time they dwelt
with the gods, when life was SO much
more simple than now and there were no
zoo places, with rows of white-f1oored.
black-barred cages and keeper folk to
Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-04-09

get some kind of rise out Of you. "Tll
have to begin very soon now. Really,
am ashamed to think Of the tons and
tons of dirt around this house"
AS rule she made this observation
stick.
'Tons of dirt?" you would say, knowing
very well that when women speak that
way they plainly intend to infer that men
folks drag the dirt into the house on
their shoes or make the dirt with their
pipes or cigars or something. Where
is all this dirt? I can't see It. Don't you
think you are putting that rather strong
~, my dear?
Whereupon she would turn from the
window and bestow upon you plying,
condescending sort of smile.
"Oh, it's not to be supposed that you
would be able to see how the house posi-
lively reeks,'' she would say. regarding
YOU indulgently from her distant peak.
Men can't see dirt. They can only
make it
Which would be about all for you. That
would hold you.
After your squelched feeling wore off a
little, however, you would get busy try
ing to find out just when it was going to
happen.
when are you going to begin to tear
the place to pieces?' you would inquire.
assuming that aggrieved-husband tone in
which you were tareD so adept. Right
away-today?"
acknowledgement have the house
in mess over Sunday" she would re-
ply, falling into the trap. Certainly
not 1 shall begin Monday morning"
Having thus got an exact line on the
day and date, you would let 1t go at that
for the time. But on the following day
Saturday. say. at dinner--you would re-
fectively brush the crumbs from beside
your plate. and strive to iron the ex-
preston Of hangdog guilt from your
features, and buck up SO as to be able
to look her in the eye without fiinching,
and you would say:
"Oh, by the way, my dear. I'll be run
ming out Of town for a few days next
week. Got a lot of long-deferred little
odds and ends to attend to in several
places" -
"Yes?" she would say, looking UP with
out the least suspicion. CThey were SO