Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 27, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 July 1894 — LAUNDRY LORE. [ARTICLE]

LAUNDRY LORE.

In Scotland Girls Still "Tread Out" Soiled Clothes. The economy of laundries is amazingly ancient; but, with the exception of the questionable boon of the introduction pf machinery, which in innumerable instances makes irreparable havoc with valuable linen, washing is in many parts of the world carried on in precisely the same manner as it was 2000 or 8000 years ago. Says the London Telegraph: The Romans knew nothing about washing clothes at home, and their ladies were far better off than Nausicaa, who, with her maidens, were not Uft proud to proceed to the

nearest stream and do the family washing The Romans wore their togas and tunics until those garments became intolerably grimy, and then they sent them to the fullers, who formed as important a corporation as many of our big laundries do at present. The remains of a “fullonia,” or laundry have been excavated at Pompeii, and the walls are decorated with paintings minutely illustrating the varioua operations of washing. Boys and men are seen standing in tubs placed in narrow niches like sentry-boxes, for the purpose of purifying by treading with their feet the clothes beneath. As the ancients were not acquainted with the use of regular soap, they employed an alkaline mixture with which the grease contained in the clothes was combined, and by these means became dissolved. When the garments had been washed they were manipulated with a “card” or stiff brush, for the purpose of being rubbed up and given a nap, and the clothes were then stretched on heavy circular structures resembling crinoline skirts, to be exposed to the fumes of brimstone. The carding out process is still practised in remote parts of the Scottish Highlands, where the well-soaped linen is placed in tubs in the open air and trodden “alternls pedibus” by long-limbed lasses. In Italy an<J in the south of France the women take the linen down to the bunks of the shallow and pebbly streams and beat it with a “battoir” on around stone until all the uncleanness has been expelled. In India a somewhat similur process is pursued, only the “dhobee,” or washerman, takes an indefinite number of shirts, towels and other articles, and twists them into a long, thick rope, which lie heats with all his might with a stone, the consequence being that the linen is generally reduced to a state of tatters. It is quite possible thut a similar system was adopted in England in Shukspeare’s time. It was in a buckbasket that Sir John Falstaff was conveyed to the Thames, and Mrs. Ford’s laundress, we know, lived at Datchet Mead, and in all probability took her customers’ clothes down to the river to beat before she washed them.

As to another old English custom connected with the laundry, it is not much more than a generation ago that it ceased in our midst. “Washing day,” and its concurrent discomfort, are frequently alluded to in Pepys’s “Diary,” and there must be many elderly persons who are able to recollect not only the wookly but the monthly wash. The smaller articles were wushed in the family washhonse once a week or once a fortnight, but the “grosser pieces,” sheets, tablecloths, etc., were reserved for the monthly sacrifice to th« goddess of cleanliness. In the meantime, however, another sacrifice hud been made to the genius of dirt, a vast accumulation of foul linen being stored up for weeks in some “glory hole” to Infect the entire promises. This feature of the wisdom of our ancestors has disappeared forever, but that which the public want at present is a little more conscientiousness and carefulness on the part, not only of the big laundries, but of the smaller ones. These people should remember that the cost to the customer of having his linen washed Is year by year Immense. A very serviceable shirt can be purchased for half a guinea, but, if a gentleman wears a clean shirt every day he will spend In washing that one article, at the rate of sixpenco per shirt per diem, a little more than £9 per annum.

“Uncle” Henry Harrison, of Union county, Tenn., tells the following snake story, which is vouched for by all his neighbors: “Several years ago an Italian, Joe Do Novo by name, bought a small tract of mountain land about thirty miles from Caryvllle. Without repairing the cabin lie and ids wife moved into it. They were childless and had little to do with their neighbors. The man went once a month to the country store that was near by to make necessary purchases. Things went on this way until some hunters overtaken by a storm late one afternoon, were forced to seek refuge in his cabin. The rain continuing unabated, they were forced to remain into the night. After supper the Italian got down his fiddle and began to play low and plaintively. In a short while a huge rattlesnake appeared upon the hearth, then another and another, until no less than seven wriggling serpents were in sight. The hunters were terribly alarmed, but De Novo bade them be quiet and watch. The snakes seemed filled with the wildest ectasy; if the music was low and soft they would move in graceful curves like the mazes of the waltz; if it was loud and quick their movements were quick; at all times they kept the most perfect time. If the music ceased they would rush from sight, but would return immediately upon its resumption. Numbers have visited the Italian to witness this sight. Last year De Novo died. After the buriul the woman sold out and returned to her native country, the cabin was torn down, and the rattlesnakes disappered forever.”