Rensselaer Union and Jasper Republican, Volume 8, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 February 1876 — How Jones Shaved Himself. [ARTICLE]

How Jones Shaved Himself.

In view of the hard tjpnes Jones determined to shave himself., His income had been reduced and he had got tired of waiting for his turn, of toeing pestered to purchase toilet articles, 6f the persistent aud unnecessary brushing by the barber’s boy, and the steady evaporation of his small change. So Jones invested in the requisite apparatus, and upon bringing them home remarked triumphantly to Mrs. Jones that he was glad to have the opportunity at setting tlie example oT economy. On Sunday morfiing Jones Commenced operations, and it was not long before a large pdrt of the household was enlisted in his sendee. Mrs. Jones must And him a cup for* soap,“Miss Jones must hunt up some shaving-paper, Master Jones must And a hook for his strop, and the servant some sweet Oil for the same. Of course Jones had a fflbw razor, and new razors proverbially need to be sharpened,' and Jones undertook to sharpen it. First he tried the oil stone, and rubbed away until he had used up a-birge part of the blade and left a feather edge as rough as the burr on a file. Then afcme the stropping process, and Jones rowed dIR gently half an hour alternately on Nos. one, two, three and four, at the end of which time his blade seemed to be abont “where he started, and he mentally wondered how the barbers managed to do it so quickly. He had seen them slash away with a razor and bring it to a keen edge in a few vigorous strokes. He had vainly been endeavoring to do the thing with precision and deliberation. But ft was no go. All sorts of reasons occurred to him. Perhaps he had a bad razor; perhaps the strop was bad; perhaps, he had too much oil or not enough—in short all sorts of reasons but the right one, which was that Jones knew no more About sharpening a razor than a cat. But Mrs. Jones was looking on, and Jones did not dare admit thm he couldn’t dq. it. So he finally said, “ There!” with a triumphant air, as if he had finally got it all right. Jones said “ there” and squared himself for action. His beard was stiff and stubborn, and if the razor had been a; all sharp he could have cut it, easily. But the razor wasn’t sharp, and slid over the stubble like a and over the snow. Mrs. Jones tittered, and Jones resolved to brave it out. So he seized the strop and made a desperate luqge—as the barbers do—intending to get an edge with one fell swoop, but his first stroke out the leather a (tearful gash, the second slashed the strop in two, ana the third closed the razor over his haild exposing an amount of red meat that made Mrs. Jones scream. “Oh, that’s nothing,* 4 said Jones, “only a scratch,” and he tied up his hand with a towel. “Just a little slip, my dear;’,’ and Jones again seized the razor, lathered his eyes, nose and ears full of soap and started to mow down his crop. This time he managed to cut a little hair off, but it came hard and brought the tears to his eyes. It was like tearing the hair up by the roots. But Janes, nothing daunted, kept on bravely. Me took it at different angles; he supped frequent lather. He scraped and scrape® until the cuticle bmexcOTiatedmthe consistency of. a raw beefsteak. “There, my dear,” he said to Mrs, J., “ feel how smooth that is,” and he tried to delude Mrs. J. into rubbing the right way. But Mrs. J., with glaring ana reckless obstinacy, persisted in robbing the wrong way, and said she didn’t think it was very smooth. Then Jones grew desperate, but said that perhaps there were a few hairs not quite as short as they should be. So he went at it again. This time he was savage, and in a short time he made his. face look as if some young doctors had been trying to dissect him. The point of the razor caught in his nose, the heel in his ear, and the center laid open his cheek with a ghastly seam that brought his shaving to an untimely end. Jones has never shaved since. But all the materials were utilized. The soap for washing, the cup lor the baby, the strop to thrash the boy with, and the razors have been a perpetual delight whenever Mrs. Jones wants to cut her corns.— N. Y. Graphic.