A Guest at the Ludlow, and Other Stories

  THE SABBATH OF A GREAT AUTHOR

  VII

  I awake at an unearthly hour on Sunday morning, after which I turn overand go to sleep again. This second, or beauty sleep, I find to be almostinvaluable. I do it also with much more earnestness and expression thanthat in the earlier part of the night. All the other people in the housegradually wake up as I begin to get in my more fancy strokes.

  By eight o'clock everybody is stirring, and so I get up and glide aboutin my pajamas, which makes me look almost like the "Clemenceau Case" insearch of an engagement.

  Mr. Rogers is going to have me sit to him in my pajamas for a group ofstatuary. He also wishes to model an iron hitching post from me.

  On waking I at once take to me tub and give myself a good cold bath.

  I then put in my teeth.

  After doing some little studies in chiropody I throw a silk-velvetdressing gown over my shoulders and look at my bright and girlish beautyin a full-length mirror, comparing the dimpling curves, as I see themreflected, with those shown in the morning paper.

  After reading a little from the chess column of some good author, Idescend to the _salon_ and greet my family smilingly in order to openthe day auspiciously. We all then sing around the parlor organ a littlepean entitled, "It's Funny When You Feel That Way."

  We now go to the breakfast room, where the children are taught to setaside the daintiest bits for papa, because he might die some time andthen it would be a life-long regret to those who are spared that theydid not give him the tender part of the steer or the second joint of thehen.

  After breakfast, which consists of chops, hashed brown potatoes, muffinsand coffee, preceded by canteloupe or baked beans, we proceed toquarrel over who shall go to church and who shall remain at home to keepthe cattle out of the corn.

  We then go to church, those who can, at least, whilst the others remainand read something that is improving. Sometimes I shave myself on Sundaymornings. Then it takes me quite a while to get back into a religiousframe of mind. I do not manage very well in shaving myself, and peoplewho go by the house are often attracted by my yells.

  I go to church quite regularly and enjoy the sermon unless it is toofirm or personal. If it goes into doctrine too much I am apt to be quitefatigued at its end on account of the mental reservations I have madealong through it.

  I like to go and hear about God's love, but I am rarely benefited by adiscourse which enlarges upon his jealousy. When I am told also that Godspares no pains in getting even with people, I not only do not enjoy theinformation, but I would sit up till a late hour at night to doubt it.

  _He sometimes succeeds in getting himself disliked bysome other dog and then I can observe the fight_ (Page 67)]

  I shake hands with the pastor, and after suggesting something for him topreach about on the following Sabbath, I go home.

  In the afternoon I go walking if no one calls. We have dinner at 2o'clock on Sunday, consisting of jerked beef smothered in milk gravy.This is the remove. For side dishes we have squash or meat pie. Wesometimes open with soup and then have clean plates all around, withfowl and greens, tapering off with some kind of rich pie.

  After dinner I sometimes nap a little and then fool with the colt. Thisis done quietly, however, so as not to break in upon the devotionalspirit of the day. After this I go for a walk or converse intelligentlywith any foreign powers who may be visiting our shores.

  When I walk I am generally accompanied by a restless Queen Anne dog,which precedes me about a mile. He sometimes succeeds in getting himselfdisliked by some other dog and then I can observe the fight when I catchup with him.

  As the twilight gathers all seem ready again for more food and we beginto clamor for pabulum, keeping it up until either square or roundcrackers and smearcase are produced. These are washed down with foamingbeakers of sarsaparilla.

  As the evening lamp is now lighted, I produce some good book or pamphletlike "The Greatest Thing in the World," and read from it, occasionallycuffing a child in order to keep everything calm and reposeful. At 9o'clock the cat is expelled and the eight-day clock is wound up for theweek. Gazing up at the bright cold stars after kicking forth the cat, Irealize that another Sabbath has been filed away in the great big brawnybosom of the past, and with a little remorseful sigh and an incipientsob when I think that I am not making a better record, I drive a fencenail in over the door latch and seek my library which, on being properlyapproached, opens and becomes a beautiful couch.