The Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1877-1885, 1882-03-30

Mr.. Spoopendyke Objects TO the Publicity Which
Has Been Given His Domestic Habits.

Has Been Given His Domestic Habits
Say, my deari'' roared Mr. Spoopen-
/ dyke, as he dashed into the room and
fell into chair, ibid you know that
that section of q stove pipe, with handy
legs and Presbyterian steeple nose,
had published book about you and
meP''
Nor exclaimed Mrs. Spoopendyke.
ssYou don't tell me! Is it anything like
Napoleon Bonaparte crossing the Alpsn'
No, it amt anything like Napoleon
Bonaparte crossing the Alpsr' snorted
Mr.. Spoopendyke. ..And it amt any,
| thing like Julius Hannibal crossing the
Hellespont! Nor it amt anything about
Queen Victoria! It's about you and me,
/ tell you! It's all about our private life,
and the idiot always represents me as
| going to bed madi''
II don't think that there's anything
| in our private life to be ashamed Of
said Mrs. Spoopendyke, land as to your
going to bed mad you generally do, don't
| you, dearP''
what if do?'' howled Mr.. Spoopen-
dyke. Spose Iwant to go to bed on
every news stand in the country done up
in cheap binding and bad typep' Think
want posters out ON the fences, sSpoo-
| pendyke going to bed mad, in paper IS
cents; Spoopendyke going to be mad,
with additions and preface by the author,
price so cents; Spoopendyke going to
bed mad, bound in cloth with beveled
edges; children cry for it and doctors
recommend it, price SIP Got an idea
that / want to go to bed mad in twenty
four editions, with a row with a news
company, printers bills unpaid and a
paper manufacturer bowling for his
-hh cd
pendyke. ''It's book, tell youi Cut
on the edges, pasted on the back, cover
ed on the outside and reading matter all
over! Know what book is? The only
difference between n book and your
mouth is that the book shuts up once in
a while! Who gave him the facts?' and
Mr.. Spoopendyke leaned back in his
chair and frothed at the mouth.
What does the man say in his book?''
asked Mrs. Spoopendyke.
He don't say anything! He don'tge
a chancei You do all the talking like
you do at home! o, you're great wo-
man now! It's Mrs. Spoopendyke this,
and Mrs. Spoopendyke that, and Mrs
. Spoopendyke around the corner, and
Mrs. Spoopendyke over the fence.
ShakspeareSs nowhere! You are the lead
ing literary character of the day! Who
gave him the facts? Who purveyed the
information? Who told him you were
an idiot that only needed wash bin
and brother-in-law to- be a Guiteau
trial?''
Il don't quite know what you mean"
faltered Mrs. Spoopendyke. II know
about the Guiteau trial and hope Mr..
Porter will win it. But / don't know
anything about being literary, and as
for Shakespeare, / think he is almost
as abstruse as the Board of Educa-
ton
ssWhat want to know is, who gave
him the factsr' roared Mr.. Spoopendyke.
Who gave this ten cent author with
five acre reputation the facts? How'd
he ever find out that you didn't know
any more about keeping house than
frog does about keeping bank ac-
count?'
I'm sure / don't know, DEAR" said
Mrs. Spoopendyke soothingly. MAYBE
he is only q newspaper man who pub
fishes facts first and then trusts to luck
to find them out afterward. What does
he say about me?''
Say about your squealed Mr.. Spoo-
pendyke. He don't say enoughi He
only leaves the impression that dia-
mond drill, a steam engine, fair weather
and low wages might make an impress
sion on your skull! Do you appreciate
the enormity of the situationp Do you
reach out and grasp, comprehensively,
the unalterable fact that your market
value is twenty-five cents in paper and
81 in cloth? Can you absorb the idea
that in illustrating your red, whites and
blue virtues he has dragged ne into
his book, so as to give character to it?''
Does he mention you, too?' exclaim-
ed Mrs. SpooPendyke, with an air of in
dignation-
Mr.. Spoopendyke rose to his feet.
Slowly he Invested himself of his cloth
ing and slammed the various articles on
the floor, keeping his eye fixed on his
trembling wife
MRS. Spoopendyke," said he, as he
pranced into bed ''be kind enough to
regard me as the cheap edition. The
honor of cloth, with beveled edges, gold
letters on cover and the name spelled
wrong belongs to You. With that and
your literary attainments, combined
with your disposition to reflect discredit
on an insane jackass, you only need your
corners turned down, your back torn
off to be circulating ibraryr' With
which profound illustration of his con-
tempt for the situation, MIR. Spoopen-
dyke drew his pillow over his head and
kicked vigorously.
II don't care, . thought Mrs. Spoopen-
dyke, as she ran a gathering string
through the neck of the baby's new
wrapper; IF the man says that MIR.
Spoopendyke goes to bed mad every.
night he tells the truth, and if he does
that don't care what he says about
me. What wonder most about is how
long speech the foreman of the jury
will make about MIR. Guiteau.'s
And Mrs. Spoopendyke crawled in on
her side of the couch and then Topped
out again to see if the man under the
bed had not by some possibility got in
to the match safe and pulled the cover
over himself. Brooklyn Eagle.