“You shall save his life again by eloping away from hither at once,” she dib wild-cattishly. “Leave baby-cab on front porch and let me see your absence.” So I made very sorry removal feeling similar to one who make a living swallowing dull swords. Hoping you are the same, Yours truly, _Hashimura Togo_. III HON. MISS DRESSMAKER _To Editor Woman’s Page Who Understand How Ladies Can Be Dress-Made Until They Appear Beautiful._ Dear Mr Sir: During my progress around from places to places I have got acquaintance with all sorts American musical instruments. Banjos, gasolene, stoves, trumbones and basso drums I have heard shooting their music. But never until of recently did I encounter a sew-machine doing so. Sew-machines are different from pianos in several ways. Pianos are good for accompany ladies singing; sew-machines are useful for accompany ladies gossiping. This I notice. Place at which I was most formerly employed was Mrs Jno W. Smith (pronounced the same way) who reside by her husband near Poison Ivy View, Conn. This Mrs Smith have a mind full of drygoods. She speak of her friends in dressmake language entirely. “Jno,” she say to her husband when they set down for dinner-eat ceremony, “to-day I met the most charming Brussels lace with accordeon tassels at wrists and elbows.” “What was her name in real life?” require Hon. Smith with nervus expression of check-book. “Mrs Ethel Crabapple,” report Hon. Mrs Jno, her mind making drop-stitches of fashionable pattern. “She have took up woman-suffrage movement and speaks very beautiful under her pink majolica hat of baby ostrich plumes.” Hon. Jno Smith sigh like a bye-gone day. “Ethel Crabapple!” he renig for slight sentiment. “I knew her when she was merely Ethel Scraggs. How is she?” “Quite well, I think,” relapse Mrs Jno. “She spoke on Progress wearing a green opera cloak of cerise burlap aggrevated with panels of Arabian chiffon and satin annex at collar.” Hon. Smith withdraw himself from this conversation for fear he might be asked to buy some similar uniform for his wife. When this Mrs Smith are asked to ball-parties, dance-step festivals, trolley-ride, bridge-play gambol, etc., she look extremely downtrodden for days & days. Her husband remain calm but frightened, like Wall Street before it collapses. Of finally she lead Hon. Smith to breakfast where she report distinctually, “I am absent of all clothing to wear anywheres.” I do not notice this. But Hon. Jno grone severely while he give her all the wealth of his pockets. Then he go glubly away to his office feeling like the Queen of Sheba’s husband when it was fashionable for ladies to dress in solid gold with diamond buttons. About one week of yore my Hon. Boss Lady come at me and decry, “Togo,” she say, “one extra plate must arrive to table this week.” “You expecting some person?” I ask out. “No. Only a dressmake,” report her. “Must I mix extra food for her daily?” I snuggest.