Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1918-12-13
SEAMY SIDES OF SOLITUDES
BV John Brock

0 thoroughly do / appreciate the charms
of my solitude that l feel privileged to
- detail, for once, it's seamy side. The
most chatting elemnt for the first two weeks
came in such chilly dawns as found me
without firewood. True, 1 should have chop
ped it the night before; but if l hadn't, there
was nothing for it but to sally forth slipper
ed and sweatered, into the chill, and WELD
the axe, while my breath visualized the
frosty air in vapOry puffs with every lusty
blow.
Then slowly it dawned on me that wash
day was inevitably coming to hand. My own
hand, at that. For the only woman L might
possibly vile into such service is herding
goats. She would do anything in the world
for me if / were really sick, but while have
my heath-well she merely shifted and said
/ had time to learn, which is what comes of
living in state where women have the vote!
So much for her cruelty
| started out to attain the experience. Now
the burning question was, the wash to the
well or the water to the house? / chose the
first. 1t made me tired just to think of
carrying that much water up the weary hill
But the icy spring refused to lather my soap
WhereupOn | built me stove to heat it
on | scooped out a hole in the bank, set
up a section of riddled stovepipe, rescued
from the rubbish heap, flattened a kerosene
tin for a top, braced by the rod from the
tail of the wagon, and the deed was done.
"But that's not the way!" the 3horus of
Old-Timers will cut in. you should Of
Yes | know, buC that was the way | did. And
it really worked-enough to burn my fingers
on the edges of the tub.
BY this time l had an audience fully as
critical as the Old-Timers. Two ground
squirrels were summing their dappled coats
on the rock above, and combing out their
tails and every little bird that hangs around
my door was attending the performance.
They understood about the water perfectly
well, for they like theirs warm, sunwarm in
still, sandy-bottomed pool. But they had
one point of skepticism.
"You know, my DEAR" said a lady-like
towee in a big voice as quiet as her coat,
"that big things can never flutter properly
in that much water"
81 didn't think they ever troubled to
bathe," said the rosy-headed finch who lives
by the brook and dips dozen times day.
Well, l went on with my scrubbing, while
they grew more and more curious, until at
last the jay came along and swung on the
wild lilac to jeer at Then l ventured
the information that l took my feathers eff
so l could see whether l got them clean. OF
course they didn't believe me. But the tit,
who lives just over my head, insisted it was
So He seemed embarrassed to own that he
had peeked at the privaces of my toilet, yet
not little pulled up over his superior knowl-
edge.
''What color is it, them" scoffed the jay.
"Pink."
Like me-" said the finch, who thinks his
is the most desirable color in the world.
mo, lighter, like-like the manzanita
flowers. l mean," insisted the tit.
yah" screamed the jay. who ever
heard of pink animal? I say redIOp, give
me g. snifter our of that private bottle of
yours. l always wanted to see blue squat
it's strong enough to show me
one" And he screamed with laughter.
Whereat forgot what was about and burnt
the rest of my fingers on the tub. l was
almost mad enough tC take off the remainder
of my clothes-all those hadn't in the tub
and show that jay. But there was the lady
like towee; knew it would never do.
And when you come to think of it, pink
animal certainly does sound queer and out
of tune with the scheme of natural things.
But wash day is enough to set any one Won
dering whether man is really so superior after
oil