The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-04-20
SP00PENDYKE PAPERS.
TELLING HOW lar. HUNrLEY
WROTE THEM.

WROTE THEM.
Mrs. Huntley Denies that She Was
Their Author, but Admits Having
Suggested Them-Glimpss of the
Life of g Genius Wife-A New Spoo-
pendyke Sketch.
Copyright, 1900
WASHINGTON, April 19.-The wife of a
| genius has. l imagine, pretty hard time
Of it. The world, seeing only the charming
side Of such mans nature, is apt unduly
| TO envy her who lives in constant associa-
| ton with so brilliant mind and 50 delight
full character. But genius ia the twin
brother of madness, and the mailman,
however scintillant his mind may be, has
never been popularity convicted of being
the most agreeable of daily companions.
Stanley Huntley was las all who knew
him will agree) a man of genius. He had
but Just begun to blossom into fame when
death struck him down, but his marvellous
| fancy, as demonstrated IN the odd conceits
which went fugitive through the column,
of the press a few years ago, and his ire
| sistible humor which shook tears of laughter
| from those who read "The Spoopeudylse
Papers" had already gained for him place
| as one OF the most amusing writer's of his
day.
His widow would, therefore, be an object
| of interest, even if she had no qualities of
| her own to recommend her to attention.
But she herself is only by slight degree
| removed from genius Mrs. Florence Hunt
| ley, Il stately, handsome WON IN, with Dig,
| bright eyes, n pale, intellectual face, AMI
nervously enthusiastic manner, lives mod
| estly at No. COS Twelfth street, this city, in
| apartments which ATTEST how far good taste
| may compensate for narrowness of means
| and turn literary workshop into an invit-
| ing reception room.
| II am afraid it is too inviting she says,
| "for l am 80 besieged by callers | can
| hardly find the time for doing necessary
writing" 1t is the general expression of
the lady's friends, however, that the room
| is not the main attraction there.
| 1t has been repeatedly asserted in public
prints that Mrs. HuntIey conceived the idea
of the famous .Spoopendyke stories, and
wrote many Of them herself. She, however,
| takes pains on all possible occasions to deny
this and TO laud her husbands wondrous
mind. She says he was not only the author
| of the sketches, but was Mr.. Spoopendyke
himself. Tits denial, however, goes too
far, Tor it was Mrs. Huntley who suggested
the first of these stories to her genius hus-
band, and these were the circumstances of
| it: They were boarding in Brooklyn, whore
| Mr.. Huntley was employed as a special
writer for the Eagle, his particular depart
InenJ being a column headed Salad" in
| the Sunday edition. This column (more
! frequently two or three columus) was
always written on Friday. for the matter
| had to be handed in that night and Huntley
| had all the weaknesses of genius, of which
| procraStination is one. He put off his work
| until the last day and then dug at it like
bear at a bee tree.
ANY suggestions for the salad?" was his
regular Friday morning inquiry, and his
| wife, always keenly interested in his work.
frequently sounded keynote of suggestion
which his quick wit and rolhcklng fancy
would sieZe upon and enlarge into pleasing
medley OF absurditles or satire. One even
ing a member of the household brought
| home ''Gfteen" puzzle and tossed it into
Mrs. Huntley's lap. As she vainly tried to
bring the displaced blocks into their proper
| PLACES, her husband lowered over her in
boyish impotence to ge5 hold Of the box
and solve the problem, for impatience was
his ruling characteristic and he had the
| lrrepressible appetite of genius for solving
difficult riddles.
''Give it to me" he finally said ''you're
not doing it right. l see how it works. I'll
straighten it out for you in half a minute"
he was perfectly frantic to get at it and his
sooner had he gained possession of it than
he became monument of patience, and
| until nearly 10 o'clock he sat aud worked
| calmly and determinedly over the little box
of blocks, never looking up, paying no heed
| to remarks made to him or about him His
| whole mind was intensely at work upon
the little puzzle. When the company
| began to break up he excused
himself and bounded upstairs, where, seated
at his desk, oblivious to his wife and all sur
roundingS, he labored earnestly till after
midnight to bring the blocks in 13, ii, Is
order. Then he began to mutter to the
blocks as il they were living creatures.
| This, says Mrs. Huntley, was always an in-
dication that his temper was getting the
best of him. His hand began to tremble
and his face, always pale, turned white.
| The he broke forth in the most violent in
vective against the senseless bits of wood.
"You will, will your he would say in a
savage undertone between his tightly-closed
teeth, and the adjectives would begin to
bubble out. "You miserable, measly, dis
solute, dodgasted creatures of eternal earth
Tor some other place., you think you'll get
ahead of Hnntley, do you? Well, you
won't. you diabolical, sin-drenched imps of
| Tartarus; you grinning, jibbering, drool-
| ing idiots of bedlam. Huntley is going to
stay right by you, you wanton fiends
| of rank, eternal darkness, aud he's going to
conquer your accused inform, ingrained,
block-headed obstinacv if it takes till the
pearly gates wear off their adarnantine
hinges. Dye bear, you sneaking, proving.
crouching hounds of hadesP' Aud then
well, the language that Stanley Huntley
could not command at such times might ali
with excellent propriety be printed in Sun
day school tracts.
Faster and faster the blocks moved, until
their clickings resembled the sound of q
telegraphic instrument. Then suddenly
Huntley spraug to his feet and, with a long
string of wonderfully conceived epithets,
slung the box and blocks across the Foom.
and, snatchlng up the innocent little
wooden cover, twisted it into splinters.
which he strewed upon the floor and crushed
under his heal with as much apparent salts
faction as if he were really avenging him.
self on some one. Then he presented one of