The Dawson journal., 1883-09-20

the Trump of Immortality sounds for
Spoop0ndyke, and he replies Lord,
the remains are ready for the sacri-
fee! I expect you to get lot of old
hens together and tafy pull IN
derstand it now? Does that dying
request convey to your mind any in
telligent idea of the last wishes of
the defunct? ? Think you could carry
out that request without getting the
molasses all over the corpse
Eyes, DEAR" sighed Mrs. Spoopen-
dyke, struggling to keep the tears
back, as in her imagination she con
jured up the vision of Mr.. Spoopen-
dyke lying in his cofiA with his poor
face all stuck mp with treacle. "Only
| would not like 10 have fire in the
house when you were dead, because
it would be so hot for the mourners,
and, you know, corpse ought to be
kept as cool as possible i'll this warm
weather."
$50 it ought, had2't it?" yelled
Mr.. Spoopendyke, rather startled by
this practical suggestion that he
might not keep long in a warm house
"And the mourners ought to be KEEP
comfortable if they are going to en-
Ijoy the proceedings - he continued
remembering that in the enumeration
OF the reason for not building, a fie
the feelings of the bereayed were
consulted before the effect on the
late lamented. "That busts that
scheme. No candy pulled over the
remains of Spoopendyke. Cant ye
think of something else ? I say" he
howled, as new and particularly
bright idea struck him. You might
have a game OF Aunt Sally with me
Set me up in corner aul tArow
sticks at me, and then you could have
some ice cream for the mourners
That would keep ali hands cool, and
burst the hind sights off any funeral
that ever came off in these DARTS
How does that strike you? Think
yon could manage to put up with my
loss on aracket of that kind?' aud
MIR. Spoopendyke placed his hand tc
his ear as if anxious not to lose a
word Of his .wiIe's reply to this sensi.
Die proposition.
Wouldn't you rather have me get
some flowers, dear, and fill your poor
coffin up with fragrance ?" asked Mrs.
Spoopendyke, looking up to him af.
fectionately.
"No!' roared Mr., Spoopendyke, as
the grim aspect Of crosses, wreaths,
and anchors in tube-roses presented
itself to him. Il don't want any
flowers. Think Tn going to lie in a
box, while a lot of dodgasted old wo-
men, headed by a prancing widow in
borrowed dress march pass and sby
vegetables at me Think Pm an ope-
IA singer, to hoist up in my coffin
and bow every time a measly idiot
fires a drndelion at me and have
some one in the back end Of the
church yell Speech p That your no
ton Of funeral? With your ideas
about death, all you want is a pail
Of silver handles and an autopsy to
be a railroad accident!" ard with
this complete Illustration of his wife'>
views of Immortality, Mr.. Spoopen.
dyke slamed the door after him and
went to the races.
Il don't care" murmured Mrs
Spoopendyke, as he departed. 81
don't care. At all the funerals
have attended they had flowers, and
if we don't have some when my pool
husband dies, they'll say we didn't
have any friends or money. Any
way, l hope he won't die before l DO
and then he'll know what trouble ii
is to hunt up his own things, and
what it is to be without any one tc
put them away for him. and witt
this sentiment Mrs Spoopendyke pur
her husbands razor strop behind the
clock, and his pipe into the shot bag
and then sat down to wonder how
she wonld look in mourning if she
should be driven to the pinch