3--You will hear a sound. It will resemble moan of puppy cats aggravated by Winter blowing cyclones among ghosts. I cannot hear that Vacuum noise without feeling of lonesome poetry. 4--Hon. Vacuum begin to act disturbed. That are sign he want to eat dust. 5--Find some dust. Lead Hon. Vacuum to this and say, “Sick him!” Snorts! Hon. Dust will jump to nowhere while Hon. Vacuum howell for more food. What are this Hon. Vacuum, anyhows? Hon. Dictionary Book say “Vacuum are Nothing.” How could Mr. Danl Webster speak such untruth by his Dictionary? Vacuum cannot be Nothing and yet make so much noises. This intellectual Vacuum machinery resemble ostriches in what they eat. He delight to sip up tacks, needles, buttons and other hard groceries. He appreciate small wad of paper occasionally, but when I attempt feed him entire newspaper he hold it firmly against his nose, but refuse to go furthermore. I should like a photo of his digestion. Mrs. Bellus, who are a wonderfully housekept lady, admire this Vacuum more than any of her relatives. “I hate Dust,” she proclaim to me. “Why should it?” I require. “Nearly all Earth are composed of this delicious powder. Mexico, Sahara Desert & Jersey City is built on dust and enjoys it continuously. Entire Italian army fight to get Tripoli, which are nothing but dust inhabited by Mohammed.” “They are welcome to get it,” she snib. “With a regiment of Vacuum Cleaners led by Gen. Housekeeping I could wipe both armies off from Morocco and make it fit to sleep in.” I am shocked by her cleanliness. Yet I ask to know one question. “Mrs. Madam,” I reproach, “tell me this reply. When Hon. Vacuum supp up dust from this carpet, to where do it go to?” She indicate Heaven with her thumb. “Up there is grand blow-away hole which shoo it off,” she answer it. So I continue on absorbing hairpins, string and other germs through that succulent machinery. No lady I work for are equally balanced in their manias. Some are crazed about houseflies; cookery seem to make others continuously het-up; others seem to reverberate with pain when mentioning clothes-starch. This Mrs. Hirem B. Bellus was especially hobbed on that Vacuum Cleanliness. She could forgive all other crimes, no matter if I brought in beefstake too much charcoaled around edges. It no matter if I too sluggish with my feet to answer door when it bells. It no matter if I make outrageous beds or knock gentle glasswear in hard sink. She forgive. But she was deliciously disgusted if Hon. Vacuum was not mourning & howelling all day long while Togo poke its nose around among rugs & other brick-brack. Her husband disagree from this. “Togo’s biscuits fill my teeth with hatred while his coffee show contemptible weakness,” Hon. Bellus dib for breakfast. “Perhapsly,” refute Hon. Mrs., “yet he are one of the best Vacuum Engineers I ever hired.” “I cannot eat a Vacuum,” reject that Husband-man, with hat-in-the-ring expression.