Iowa voter. [volume] (Knoxville, Iowa) 1867-1874, 1870-03-10

An Illinois Eayalid.
~ TILL you, sir, that truth is stranger
than fiction. =
"Yes!" said I, with studied effort to
play the agreeable to the new conner.
We were sitting at q plain but we'll
snread table in the kitchen of Western
farm house. Everything was on gener-
Gus scale, from the rolling prairie with ito
billowy reaches, down to the ay.stacks
and the big wood pile near the door
Within the house the same ample greeting
was prominent / had spent the day since
the December sunrise in hunting up sec
ton corners and establishing boundary
lines for my host. We had al Of us
worked hard, and the measurements had
proven remarkably correct, tor the chain
slipped smoothly along on the frozen
snow. The great Lillycache sloo, in whose
centre was bottomless mire, was crusted
over, and the rank grass interviewer with
the ice made the crossing safe. 50
had been smothered in the mud while
venturing to ford the sluggish pool. Thus
we had escaped roundabout path, and
had realized the privilege over which
every true Westerner exults, viz, that OF
making Decline between any two points.
Hence we were in excellent spirits as we
Sat down to the smoking hot supper. Mr..
Felderkin with his two boys waited for no
ceremony, and followed their example
IN bunting my keen appetite with savory
morsels. Two buxom daughters were
busting around the kitchen and replenlsh-
ing the table, while their vigorous mother,
with hospitality shining all over her red
face, was watching with care, lest we
should for moment see the bottom OF
cup or plate.
We had nearly eaten our way through
20 victory. and some of US had rushed
back to rest on our laurels and to ogle the
dAmsels, when the door opened, and In
stepped man Of medium stature, red
cheeks, long reddish hair, intelligent face
and about As years Of age,
"How are you, David" said onr host
and turning to me, exclaimed in his
hearty tones. stranger, this are Mr..
Spencer, the sickest man that God ever
made. Now, Dave, tell the Yankee some
of your great moral truths"
Thus introduced and challenged, Spen-
Ger gazed solemnly into my face, and, see
ing expectation there depicted, he uttered
the original phrase with which this sketch
begins l had been SO often quizzed, as q
youth from New England, that hardly
knew what to expect, and therefore waited
for Spencer to proceed.
At this stage, Mrs. F., in the kindness of
her heart, poured out bowl Of milk and
offered it to the new conner. He took it
in silence, swallowed it at single gulp,
set down the crockery with slam, and
sinking into chair, appeared to be griped
~-i+h toIiiLie pain. cinnps you
would rather have had water" said the
milk is about like taking pills to me, but
its DO consequence, now its down, re-
piled the gloomy man.
Thinking to relieve the good lady's con-
fusion, I asked Mr.. Spencer if he had re-
Gently been i'll. Had my query been q
patent corkscrew, land Mr.. Spencer q re-
sistless bottle Of champagne, the sxplo-
sion could not have been more immediate.
an, sir ! ill That little word is too
short, sir. III You see nothing, sir, but
my remains. have been David Spencer.
Noso, sir, may say, without intending
disrespect to my wife, am the relic Of
the late D. S. Let me give you, stranger,
in few words, q sketch Of my troubles
my lungs are badly cut up. One of
them is clear gone-collapsed, the doctor
says-shrivelled up like a blacksmith's
apron. The other one looks better, but
doesn't amount to much Have often bled
a quart at once, and thought it not worth
mentioning. take long breath now
and then, and have an awful time, bloating
up like toad.
:" But that isn't the worst. My liver
plaques me with an odd trick. 1t turns
inside out and wanders over my system.
1 suppose, stranger, that the greater part
of my liver is inside Of those boots"
thrusting out his two cowhides from I'M
der the table.
"But have another curious disease
Some of the doctors say it's paralysis, but
one medicine man calls it intermittent lock-
jaw, and reckon he's right. 1t just grabs
me and shuts me right up all over. Can't
stir q muscle; teeth all locked together
like rat-trap; can't talk or wink my left
eye. All my conversation is done with
my right eye, md l tell YOU, stranger, it
gets powerfully tired. The fit often lasts
two or three weeks, and it takes away all
my appetite, for have to be fed with .
squirt gun just behind my eye tooth.
I" You look as If you wanted to laugh,
Mister, but them as takes care of me In
those spells don't laugh much, / tell you.
They don't reckon that make ii any joke
for them.
"But wouldn't mind these things If it
wasn't for the slipping of my spinal cord.
1t never gives me any warning, but the
first thing know it gives way and pitches
me right over, head first, into Whatever
lies in front Now, one day last spring,
just as l was getting over the lockisw, l
rode out on the prairie across by T.. sloo,
and saw big stone in the road, got
out to push it over. Then l went TO the
sloo to wash my hands. As / bent for
ward, my shaky old spine let right 60, and
I dove head first into the mud, and there
I stuck, head under and feet thrashing on
che bank. had to stay there till one of
my men, passing by, took me by the heel
and pulled me out"
How long should you think you were
under water, Mr.. Spencer" asked one of
the Felderkin boys.
REALLY, l couldn't say exactly, as l
.conldn't readily oct at INV Witch hut IL