The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1883-10-18
TIE sP0oPENDYKEs.
A TUMULTUoUs TINE OVER A SORE
FOOT.

':My DEAR" whimpered Mr.. Spoo,
pendyke, hobbling into his wife's
room and throwing himself into
chair with desolate expression OF
despair on his visage. MY dear,
there is something the matter with
my foot, and 1 can't make out what
the trouble is.'
II know!!" exclaimed Mrs. .Spoo.
pendyke, lowering over him with
affectionate interest and solicitude.
Il think it's rheumatism"
"No, it amt rheumatism, either y
growled Mr.. Spoopendyke. st is
something worse than rheumatism,
and if it goes to my heart it may
kill me !"
"May be it's q stone bruise, "'sug-
gested Mrs. Spoopendyke, not rea-
lizing that a great deal of the SEN
timent and most of the danger are
taken out of a malady when it is def
nitely ascertained what the malady
is. call yon want is some liniment
and you will be all right by to-
morrow"
"That's all you know about it, .
grunted Mr.. Spoopendyke, who was
not to be put of with so small a
disaster as stone bruise. Il tell
you, that / have got some trouble
with my foot that threatens my
life, and you stand around there
like a cork in a bottle, and talk
about it as though I hadn't got one
leg into my coffin as far as the hip.
Here l am kicking at deaths door
with a game foot, and all the in.
terest you have in the matter is to
shoot off q vast amount of intelli-
gence about stone bruises. | tell
ye, it's something that amt to be
trifed with. Now what're you going
to do about it?"
':Are you sure it isn't a corn?"
hazardel Mrs. Spoopendyke, timid-
ly. Sometimes corns hurt worse
than anything else; but | never
heard of people dying of them.''
':No, it isn't q corn !" howled Mr..
Spoopendyke. nursing his foot and
glaring at his wife with mingled
expression ofrage and pain. ''What
dye think this foot is, anyway; an
agricultural district? When did
you ever hear Of a corn that reach
ed from the heel to the knee?
Which of your friends ever had a
corn that hurt clear to the ear?"
and Mr.. Spoopendyke touched his
foot carefully to the floor and eyed
his wife narrowly TO see if she
NOTICED the expression of agony on
his face.
s.If it acts that way it must be q
bunion?" exclaimed Mrs. Spoopen-
dyke tFiumphantly, ''All you have
got to do is take your boot off and
put your slippers on
"That's itr' yelled Mr.. Spoopen-
dyke, hauling off his shoe and firing
it across the room. "When a man
is dying of inhammatory, it's only a
bunion! You've got it! A pain
that starts at the toe, runs to the
back of the neck and ties in hard
knot over the spine is a bunion !!
Show me the bunion!" he con-
tinued, sticking his leg out straight
and pointing his finger at the offend
ing foot. '.Take this digit in your
lily white hand and place it tender
Iy on the dod gasted bunion before
l die and forget what killed me !
Pick it out Of the surrounding anat-
omyn' he yelled, wriggling his foot
and bouncing up and down in his
chair in delirium of rage. "Pluck
the bunion from its mountain fast
ness ON the hoof of Spoopendyke
and hold it up to the gaze Of the
same?"
docs it hurt-?" commenced
Mrs. Spookendyke, soothingly.
sHurt ~ roared Mr.. Spoopendyke,
springing from his chair and dane
ing around the room. ''0f course
it don't. 1t tickles! Hurt! It's
a picnic! Say, my dear," and his
voice was low and tender. Say,
my dear, instead of going in the
country this summer we'll lay in a
stock of bunions and wear 'em
around for our health and recreation!
Hurt " he shrieked, breaking out in
a new spot. Hurt! it feels like a
band of music! That's what it is,
a bunion! 1t took you to hit it !
When l get time to fit You up with
a full beard and a bottle of whisky
I'm going to start a dispensary
with you! If you'd Oily improve
your mind until you reached the
standard of intelligence Of a mod
crate donkey, you'd only need a
stolen corpse and bad smell to be
a first class medical college p
:sSay, DEAR" observed Mrs. Spoo.
pendYke, who had been carefully
exploring her husbands boot; "Say,
dear, think have found out what
the trouble is. 1t isn't a bunion,
after all. Here is a peg sticking
out here about a quarter of an inch.
If you will have that taken out
don't believe you will suffer any
more"
Mr.. Spoopendyke iammed his hat
over his eyes, showed his feet into
his slippers, grabbed the obnoxious
boot and started for the door with
a withering look at his wife as he
went out.
sJ don't caran nurmured Mrs