Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 July 1885 — THE LAUNDRYMAN’S VICTIM. [ARTICLE]

THE LAUNDRYMAN’S VICTIM.

How * Humorist’s Hose Were Branded— Hie Sensitive Soul Harrowed. Tdo ■wish the washee, wash.ee people , of the United States would call a national convention of launders and laundresses, and adopt a uniform style of marking the linen that passes through their hands. I have suffered much from the diversity of talent displayed in the private marks of Anglo, German, Franco, Hibernian, Chinese, and American laundries. lam a man not given to novelties. I like- variety, but I want it to be the same kind of variety* Ido not like to go round the country lecturing in the guise of the tattooed man of Borneo. Now, when I put on my war paint and sarahed forth to see whom I might gather the lecture committees in, I had my scanty store of linen marked with the real initials of my own honored name —that Mrs. O’Mahony’s husband might know whose shirt he was wearing to church, and Mlle. Celeste might know whose handkerchiefs she stole, and that Wun Lung might be able to swear that the collars he offered for sale were given to him by his deceased friend, Bam Jam Bang. But did these simple marks content the wash ladies and the laundry gentlemen ? Nay, not so. The first laundry gentleman marked everything I had with a big black X in indelible ink, save only my my blushes —hose. These dainty little fabrics of silk and worsted, with faint traces of cotton, he labeled by sewing a large white patch about midships on the after part of the veal of the same. I left all these marks on, hoping that, in connection with the regularly ordained initials, they would content the next washer gentleman. But he was a Trojan, and he put on a mark Something like the Greek letters phi, psi. This was in Philadelphia. At Pittsburgh I had a round-up of my linen at the Great Western Satin Gloss Laundry, where the man with the indelible ink labeled everything XO, big and black, and sewed additional patches on my—ahem! hose. I next corralled my things at-the establishment of Ping Ping, in Columbus, Ohio, who stitched in a firecracker joke in red thread. We—l and my herd of linen and manuscript—drifted slowly to the Northwest, and the wardrobe was watered at a French laundry in Kala-< mazoo, and branded OHA. At Minneapolis it went to the hotel laundry, and came back bearing the new legend LT, with a lozenge around it, and with red tags on my s—ks. This was growing interesting, and when a brand of blue ink came into the plot at Council Bluffs and was cast for XOA, I sat up half the night reading my things. I am fond of literature, anyhow, and when the mental pabulum on my linen was re-enforced at Concordia, Kan., by the addition of VZ in a black circle to the bill of fare, I began to look about for a publisher. At Kansas City Hang Hi worked in a crazy-quilt stitch on me, and at Decatur, HL, the launder had a rubber stamp, the design whereof was a valentine heart inclosing the letterk XLX. I do not know the meaning of the symbol unless it refers to my age, which certainly has nothing to do with the age of my wardrobe. This man sewed white tags on the ears of my st —ck—ings, with the same design printed on them. At Terre Haute, Ind., they sewed tags on everything, from withers to hock, and at Valparaiso they stitched XVH on the entire , and at Upper Sandusky I got NYX inked on everything from collar to crupper. At Beaver Falls, Pa., a Chinese gentleman embroidered on all my things portions of a strange, weird alphabet wherever he could find room for it, and at Uhrichsville, Ohio. my linen was returned to me with a note stating that all articles must be plainly marked be-' fore they could be received at the laundry.— lt. J. Burdette.,