XII Togo Makes Discoveries

To Editor Good Housekeeper Magazine, whose mind thinks recipes.

Dear Mr. Editor:—When Hon. Chris Columbus dishcovered America, he do so at his own risk. It are muchly the same with Gen. Housework—all persons must be entirely careful about what they find out, because they can’t always do something with it. I know because I try.

My last former address was home of Hon. Mrs. J. B. Cluck, Canton, O. I am now employed there as an absentee. Mr. Editor, you and your magazine are blame for the miserable anecdote what happen to me there. I tell you, Mr. Editor Good Housekeeper, how was:

This Hon. Cluck lady suddenly approach up to me last Tues. a.m. & say with voice,

“Togo,” she say so, “I am delightful reader of Good Housekeeper Magazine.”

“You are one in several 1,000,000,” I snatch back, with expression of rapid circulation.

“In this wonderfully home-made periodical,” she divulge, “I are frequently suprised to read one department name of ‘Dishcoveries,’ what tell considerable knowledge to ladies what require to make housework unexpected. This month Dishcoveries’ give bright recipes on following subjects:

“‘How to make pincushions from potatoes.

“‘How to keep moths out of moth-bags.

“‘How to make babies cry by music.’”

I assimulate her words with eyebrows.

“It seem insulting to sell so much wisdom for 15c,” I contuse.

“Recipes like this,” decry Hon. Mrs., “are good ways to know. Every servant girl, whether male or female, should read those ‘Dishcoveries’ & attempt to do so also. New things can be thought of only by thinking of something new. Therefore, remember I expect you to make some useful ‘Dish-covery’ each week you are in this home.”

With such language, she suddenly eloped away, leaving my hands in thoughtful dishwater.

Mr. Editor, it are easier to be Shakespeare than Edison. Hon. Shak. merely composed poetry, but Hon. Ed. has to compose inventions what actually go when expected to.

When Hon. Mrs. Cluck require me to think up some Dishcovery, I were completely flabbed to find what was. Nearly everything seemed to be already thought of to make home easier—hot water, ice man, gas, etc. Brooms was there to sweep with, foods to cook with, each thing for to do so. When I look around that home, all full of everything, I feel like North Pole after Hon. Doc Cook was there—nothing else left to dishcover.

That week my brain grew sidewise from too much originality. Yet no useful thought come up.

With frequent occasionality, Hon. Mrs. Cluck approach and dement,

“You find that Dishcovery yet, Togo?”

“Great explorers requires overtime to do so,” I relate.

No intellectual reply from her.

Wedsday pass, Thursday pass while Fryday & Satday proceed in similar manner. At last it was Sunday.

This Sunday are devoted to stay-home amusement by Hon. Cluck, who are a bald-haired gentleman of medium oldness. He spend this vacation by setting in slippers and enjoying quarrels he is too busy to attend to other days. When these is finished, he reads comical supplements until fatigued by humor, when he spreads Hon. Happy Hooligan page over his bald hair and commences to snore. This program are enjoyed to any extent while Hon. Mrs. telephone her Mother to explain how sad her marriage was.

“Jas!” holla Hon. Mrs. to Hon. Mr., last Sunday while he was leaping from one nap to another, “Why should you save your snores for your Wife?”

“You comfort me so I cannot keep wakeful,” he smooth back.

“Do you snore while being comforted by a—stenographer?” she gollup so quickly.

He said nothing very well.

“Oh!!” This from her. “If I could dishcover some way for to keep you from going to sleep every time you sat in that chair, I should be submerged by much gratitude.”

I was standing in next room near keyhole trying not to listen when I axidentally hear her make this dialogue.

Zizz!! Intellectual flash arrive to brain: I should make one Dishcovery what would give Hon. Cluck happy-home wakefulness when setting in that chair. Banzai! I stogger backwards with Edison feeling of thumbs.

Next a.m. while Hon. Mrs. were absentee at Dept Store squandering money on hair-pins, I approach Hon. Chair where husband love to dream. With artistic hammer & nails, I attach Hon. Chair to rope in next room which were pulled by neat derangement of pulleys. He were a Mawruss Chair, full of pads and very fat, and I was proud to see the expression of calm comfort what he wear while setting there awaiting happy home-come of Hon. Mr. Cluck.

When Hon. Mrs. Cluck arrive back for dinner that evening, food were absent, for reason because I had been too busy with importance to think up such triful.

“Why you no cook for eat it?” she require with hawk voice.

“I have cooked something more grand than merely stomach food,” I snuggest. “While you was absentee, I have been preparing something elegant for the brain to chew: I have made a Dishcovery!”

“O narrate it to me!” she collapse for vasty excitements.

“Not to do!” I holla. “Such thoughts must be delivered by express to editor of Good Housekeeper Magazine.”

She glub slightly, but I was firm.

“If you have time to spare from your scientific study, please prepare what hash there is in the house for food which is 2½ hours late.” She say it.

At 6:47 hour, Hon. Cluck return back in usual mood of joyless anticipation. He say several nouns expressing lateness of Japanese cookery, then he remove off coat, collar, neckbow & shoe-ware, expecting to put on house slippers and smoke-jacket and manufacture comfort.

“If Togo shall be till breakfast preparing dinner, I shall go to my Mawruss Chair and enjoy slight kitten nap,” Hon. Mister glump.

“If you had more regular profiles, you would be a sleeping beauty,” contuse Hon. Mrs.

“If this home was run right, it would not be run down!” combust him.

“If you was not a fungus, you might be a genius,” detone her.

I were deliciously relieved to hear them talk that way, because I knew they would get so interested in unpleasantness that Hon. Cluck would forget to go sleep in Mawruss Chair until after dinner was ate. And then I would have time to show my Dishcovery.

And so it was. While I prepare what hash I could find, Hon. Cluck spent time pacing backwards and reverse with expression peculiar to Admirals on July 4th. At lastly dinner set himself on table while Hon. Cluck devoured big dinner amidst usual steam-roller grumbel about my unhappy cooking.

“Can’t you recall some sweet language to make marriage pleasant?” renag Mrs. Cluck.

“Marriage are only pleasant when he are asleep,” he peruse, looking expectfully to Mawruss Chair.

When it come to pie time, I could already observe dormatory expression of lodging-house crowling over fatty face of Hon. Boss. Yawns by him. Stretches. At lastly, he arose upwards, lit cigar, rubbed his tired business eyes & started for library.

“I think one slight, little nap in Mawruss Chair will prepare me,” he say so to Wife.

“Prepare you for what?” she dib back at Hon. Husband.

“For go to bed,” he resnort. He make sluggardly walk toward Mawruss Chair.

Now I knew it were time for activity, if my Dishcovery would be useful. So I ran with silent speed of cats towards other room where end of rope was. Through library door, I could see Hon. Chair setting there with dimpled pads. I grabb rope detatched to pulleys what led to Hon. Chair. Next thing I could see Hon. Cluck back up towards Chair, stretch lovingly, and crouch his knees as if intending to set down. But he wasn’t.

YANKS!!! With hero strength, I pull rope which cause Hon. Chair to sidle backwards on castor. Consequence of this was large. Hon. Cluck, suddenly dejected from his set down, fell on his collar button, arriving to carpet so hippo-ponderously that entire home were jarred loose.

“O darling Mr. Husband, are you gone?” require Mrs. Wife, lopping over him with heroine expression peculiar to Julia Marlowe.

“Can’t you tell I am here by the noise?” he gubble. “What spirituous medium has came here to pull away my chair with unseen hands?”

“I do it!” I explode with great quickness suddenly emerging forth from curtains like primadonna making first entrance when band play with great exuberance.

“Why you done it?” Both Hon. Mister and Hon. Mrs. spoke together like mad chorus girls.

“It was fault of you & Good Housekeeper Magazine!” I snuggest to her. “Did you not tell me every servant girl should make Dishcovery of something needed in the home?”

“Perhapsly I did,” Hon. Mrs. rosp back with question-mark.

“Did you not tell Hon. Husband something must be did to keep him from sleeping in Mawruss Chair after big dinner every day?”

“I said thusly.”

“Well!” This from me. “I have cooked up an Invention what will keep Hon. Sir from all snores. Reward me, please!”

For immediate payment, Hon. Cluck arouse up with voice peculiar to zoology. He annexed me by the seat of my collar & left me outside where I stood long time.

Mr. Editor, if you wish this Dishcovery for your page it will be yours for the cheapness of dirt.

Hoping you are the same,

Yours truly, Hashimura Togo.