The Cheyenne daily leader. [volume] (Cheyenne, Wyo.) 1870-1884, 1882-04-22

r spoo2ondyko Objects to the Publicity wk:sh
Has Been Given His Domestic Habits.
''Say, my dearI'' roarcd Mr.. Spoopen-
rIyke, as he dashed into the room and
icll into a chair, ''did you know that
that section of a stow pipe, with handy
legs and n Presbyterian steeple nose,
had published a book about you and
ne2"
Nor exclaimed Mrs. S~poopendyke.
You don't tell mel Is it anything like
Napoleon Bonaparte crossing the Alps?"
mo, it amt anything like Napoleon
Bonaparte crossing the AlpsI" snortcd
Mr.. Spoopendykc. ''And it amt any
hing like Julius Hannibal crossing the
lIellespont! Nor it amt anything about
Queen Victoria! It's about you and me.
| tell you'll It's all about our private life,
and the idiot always represents mt us
going to bed madr'
II don't think that there's anything
in our private life to be ashamed Of"
said Mrs. Spoopendyke, land as 10 your
going TO bed mad you generally do, don;
you. dear?"
What if 1 do?" howlcd Mr.. Spoopen.
iykc. S'pose | want to go to bed OH
'very news stand in the country done up
IN cheap binding and bad type?' Think
. WANT DOSlCIS Oub vi LlC lGuCCsY DDOO
ocndyke going to bed mad, in paper %
cents; ~Spoopendyke going to be mad,
with additions and preface by the author,
price so cents; Spoopendyke going to
ned mad, bound in cloth with beveled
dyes; 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 n news
company, printers bills unpaid and n
| paper manufacturer bowling for his
money? Wah-h-h-hm yelled MI. Spoo-
pendyke. ats a book, l tell you'll Cut
on the edges, pasted on the back, cover
ed on the outside and reading matter all
:veri Know what a book is? The only
Inference between a book and your
mouth is that the book shuts up once in
n whilel Who gave him the facts?n 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'tget
a chancel You do all the talking like
you do at home! o, you're a great wo-
man now! It's Mrs. S~poopendyke this,
and Mrs. S~poopendyke that, and Mrs.
Spoopendyke around the corner, and
Mrs. S~poopendyke over the fence.
Shakspeare's 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 a wash bill
and a brother-in-law to be q Guiteau
trialP" .
II don't quite know what youmean,"
faltered Mrs. Spoopendyke, II know
about the Guiteau trial and l hope Mr..
Porter will win it. But l don't know
anything about being literary, and as
for Shakespeare, l think he is almost
as abstruse as the Board of Educa-
ton"
What I want to know is, who gave
him the factsr' roared Mr.. Spoopendyke.
Who gave this ten cent author with a
five acre reputation the facts? How'd
he ever find out that you didn't know
any more about keeping house than a
frog does about keeping a bank ac-
COUNT" .
I'm sure I don't know, DEAR" said
Mrs. Spoopondyke soothingly. Maybe
he is only a newspaper man who pub
fishes facts first and then trusts to luck
to find them out afterward. What does
he say about meP" Fl,
"Say about your squealed Mr.. Spoo-
pendyke. HE don't say enoughl He
only Leaves the impression that a dia-
mond dadi, a steam engine, fair weather
and low wages might make an impress
sion On YOUR SKULL Do you appreciate
the cHornity of the situation? Do you
reach on; and grasp, comprehensively,
the unailrrable fact that your market
value is twenty-five cents in paper and
81 in cloth? Can you absorb the idea
that L.. frtyfrotipr .rO,,r ,.aI yvhttn arI
blue yirt ues he has dragged me into
DO lie mention you. tooP" exclaim-
ed Mrs S~poopendyke. with an air Of in
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 discredii
on an insane jackass, you only need your
corners turned down, your back torn
off to be a circulating lbraryr" With
which profound illustration of his con
tempt for the situation, Mr.. Spoopen-
dyke drew his pillow over his head and
kicked vigorously.
II don't care" thought Mrs. S~poopen-
dyke, as she ran a gathering string
through the neck of the baby's new
wrapper; 'if the mar says that Mr.
Spoopendyke goes to bed mad every
night he tells the truth, and if he does
that l don't care what he says about
me. What 1 wonder most about is how
long a speech the foreman of the jury
will make about Mr.. Guiteau."
And Mrs. Spoopendyke crawled in on
her side of the couch and then Topped
u again to see if tho man under the
bed had not by some possibility got in
to the match safe and pulled the coyei
over himself. -Brookiyn Eagle.