Suddenly, while thusly I stood, great confusion came to my brain. I remember what Hon. Mrs told me about keeping Hon. Dishrag away from dirt. Then I look to that pile of Dishes. Some of them, though rare & expensive, was all disarranged by colours of food and blackberry pie. No! I could not enrage my sweet Boss Lady by touching sacred rag to that! So I lift Hon. Dishrag from soap-water, ring him out with loving care and begin shake him so no rude germs would remain from contact with sud. I make 2 complete shakes and was starting Shake No 3--when O! Hon. Dishrag escape from my finger and start flopping to floor! Terrors! This must not happen!! How raged Hon. Mrs would be if this respected rag should catch some dust against her stric orders! With immediate quickness I make extreme grab sidewards, snatching rapidly like cats catching grasshopper. I got him--between thumbs and elbows I caught that escaping Rag, but in thusly behaving--whop! My physique collapsed against entire dish-pile and following climax happened: SMASHES!!!! With noise peculiar to a crockery store falling off an Alp all that expensive China & glasswear elapse to floor and mix itself into broken hash like a battlefields after cannon shoots it. You could not tell cups from plates in that crackery of crockery. “O murder from ignorant Japanese!” holla Hon. Mrs Jas Jones & Company making inrush to kitchen. “Alive sakes, you have dropped my entire home!” And yet I smiled. “Why you laugh like hickory Indian when all I have is broke?” she otter. “Mrs Madam,” I corrode brave like frozen Napoleon, “I acknowledge the brokerage which I made amidst Hon. Dishes. Yet you needs not worry. I have saved your Dishrag.” Human nature are very doggish, Mr. Editor. Though I prove to that Lady how heroic I was she kill all my answers with her replies while Hon. Mr Jones toss me forth from that jobs. With rabid hat I bid farewell without saying so. I are just another hero walking in homeless direction because of shipwreck. Hoping you are the same Yours truly HASHIMURA TOGO. VII A DAY AT HOME _To Editor Woman’s Page who is honest man, therefore at home when he is._ Dearest Sir: My next escape was from employment of Mrs. Clarence Calicutt, Siberia, N. Y. This lady was very highly esteamed. She practise theosophy on her mind and make society acquaintance with frequent ladies. She had the most deceptive behaviour of any personality I ever employed to boss me. Her voice was half in half. One end of it was sweet, but the other end contained considerable quinine. The bitterish end was all I ever saw. For instancely, in curl-paper hour of early morning she would arise upward from breakfast and say, “Togo, why you so dub this day? Are you foolish or merely brainless?” Hashly she spoke it. Jing-jing from telephone. “Hello--are that you, Clara? How charmed you are! Yes, honey, I should seem very much obliged!” Sweetly she used her voice.