Runcorn and Widnes Examiner. — 1874-09-19 (Runcorn, Cheshire, England)

WASHING DAY.  [BY MRS. BM:MA.I3Ln 3 The Muses are turned gossips; they have lost The buskined step, and clear high-souuding phrase, Language of gods. Come, then, domestic Muse, In slipshod measure loosely prattling on, Of farm or orchard, pleasant curds and cream, Or drowning flies, or shoes lost in the mire By little whimpring boy, with rueful face— Come, Muse, and sing the dreaded washing day;  Ye who beneath the yoke of wedlock bend, With bowed soul, full well ye know the day, Which week, smooth sliding after week, brings on Too soon; for to that day nor peace belongs, Nor comfort; ere the first gray 6treak of dawn The red-armed washers come and chase repose.  Nor pleasant smile, nor qqaint device of mirth Ere visit“l that day; the very cat, From the wet kitchen scared, and reeking hearth, Visits the parlour, an unwonted guest. The silent breakfast meal is soon despatched, Uninterrupted, save by anxious looks Cast at the louring sky, if sky showed louring. From that last evil, oh preserve us heavens, For should the skies pour down, adieu to all Remains of quiet ; then expect to hear Of sad disasters—dirt and gravel stains Hard to €ff ice, and loaded lines at once Snapped short, and linen horse by dog thrown down, Aud all the petty miseries of life.  Saints have been calm while stretched upon the rack, And Montezuma smiled on burning coals; But never yet did housewife notable Greet with a smile a rainy washing day. But grant the welkin fair, rcquire not thou Who call'st thyself, perchance, the master there, Or study swept, or nicely dusted coat, Or usual 'tendanc, ask not, indiscreet, Thy stockings mended, though the yawning rents Gape wide as Erebus; nor hope to find Some snug recess impervious, should'st thou try The 'customed garden walks, thine eyes shall rue The budding fragrance of thy tender shrubs, Myrtle or rose, all crushed beneath the weight Of cearse -checked apron, with impatient hand Twitched off when sho era impend or crossing lines Shall mar thy musings, as the wet cold sheet Flaps in thy face abrupt. Wo to the friend Wh6se evil stars have urged him forth to claim On such a day the hospitable rites; Looks blank, and stinted courtesy Shall he receive; vainly he feeds his hopes With dinner of roast chicken, savoury pie; Of tart or. pudding; puddings he nor tart That day shall eat; nor, though the husband try— Mending what can't be helped—to kindle mirth From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow Clear up propitious; the unlucky guest In silence dines, and early slinks away.  I well remember, when a child, the awe This day struck into me; for then the maids, I scarce knew why, looked crossed and drove me from  them; Nor soft caress could I obtain, nor hope Usuql indulgences; jelly or creams, Relique of costly suppers, and set by For me their petted one; or buttered toast, When butter was forbid; or thrilling tale Of ghost, or witch, or murder. So I went And :sheltered me beside the parlour fire; There my dear grandmother, eldest of all forms, Tended the little ones, and watched from harm; Anxiously fond, though oft her spectacles With elfin cunning hid, and oft the pins Drawn from her ravelled stocking might have soured One less indulgent. At interval ; my mother's voice was heard Urging despatch; briskly the work went on All hands employed to wash, to rinse, to wring, Or fold, and starch, and clap, and ircn, and plait.  Then would I sit me down, and ponde•• much Why washings were; sometimes through hollow hole Of pipe amused we blew, and sent aloft The floating bubbles; little dreaming then To see Montgolfier, thy silken ball Ride buoyant through the clouds. So near ap.  proach The sports of children and the toils of men. Earth, air, and sky, and ocean hath its bubbles, And verse is one of them—the most of all.