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Show IN THE SPRINGTIME THE WOMAN WITH THE HOUSE-CLEANING HOUSE-CLEANING MANIA. And What She Can Accomplish With a Worn-Out Brush and Paint Timely Time-ly Advice to Husbands Thus Threatened. Threat-ened. Consider now tho woman who doth clean in every room, And search for hidden trcasuro in tho garret full of gloom; Sho rambleth through tho hallways and sho scrambled down the stair, And soeth great Improvements that aro needed everywhere; Sho gooth to the collar, where tho light is dim and faint, And thero she carolcth In gleo, for there Bhe flndoth paint Sho flndeth paint In buckets that tho men who paint havo loft Behind them when they daubed about tho place with fingers doft; Sho gurgleth In hor gladness, and thero comcth then a hush, A hush of speechless pleasure, for sho dlggcth out a brush I Tho brush hath lost Its bristles and the handlo hath been bont, But unto her It sccmoth as a prlzo by fortune sent. Sho tnketh up tho buckets and tho brush, and slngoth sweet, And hleth up tho cellar stairs with quick and Joyous feet. Sho ordcreth somo turpentine, somo oil, and other wares, And stlrreth them within tho pall and hummeth happy airs; And then she gooth up and down and all about tho houso, Ono eyo in search of spots to paint tho other of a mouse. Sho putteth rod upon tho door and blue upon tho stairs, And decorateth wondrously tho worn and ancient chairs; The pipes for which tho plumber hath demanded such a pllo She tlntcth green, and chantoth low and gayly all tho while. And all about and all around and Into every place Sho swoopcth with hor buckots and her brush and Joyous faco, And verily thero is no doubt that sho would change tho huo Of all tho chattels In tho houso that como Into her vlow It but the paint sho Joyeth In would not spread on so fast; And as sho swlpeth with the brush she slgheth: "It won't last." Sho trlckcth out tho window frames; it comcth then to pass That thoro bo daubs and finger prints upon tho gleaming glass; Sho putteth golden brown upon the border of tho floor, And leavcth rues and carnets so they .i.4 im.viu tuba nnu ai ijcid nu luujr plcaso her eyo no moro; And then sho slttoth down la grief and doth most loudly bawl Because a streak of paint sho leavoth on tho parlor wall. Behold, her husband comcth homo, and flndoth her in tears, With paint upon her hands and arms and pigment In her ears, With burnt slonna in her eyos, vor- mlllon on her nose, And parts green In spots between her top hair and her toos, And Prussian bluo upon hor shoo and she doth yearn to swear Whon ho doth heartlossly discern tho new tints of her hair. Nor doth It lessen any of the weight of her distress When raucously bo laughcth at the striping on hor dress. And whon he lookcth all about to soo whero sho bath hit, Sho followeth his gazo and sayetb, "But it needed it!" My son, my son, thero Is no moral-nay, moral-nay, nor helpful thought That from this slmplo narrallvo may easily be got. It only showoth how it hath from all times been tho plaint Of wohian that sho nover had tho propor chanco to paint But flea unto tho mountain; yea, with swiftness hit tho sand When that thou sccst woman with a paint brush in her hand! W. D. Nosblt In Chicago Tribune |