The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-04-20

soon as he had taken this imaginary re-
venge he was restored to good humor In
| O minute he was softly humming a good,
i old-fashioned tune, and IN ten more he was
| sleeping as serenely as if he bad never been
| Iuffled.
the next day was Friday, "Salad" day.
The usual inquiry for suggestions was
made, and Mrs. Huntley said: write
| yourself up. Describe yourself as you ap-
/ peared with the puzzle last night. Nothing
could be funnier''
This says the lady. twas, as he after-
ward told me, the first time he had ever
thought of himself as a subject for humor-
| Gus sketches, but the absurdity of his
| actions as Irecalled them to him was quickly
| apparent to his keen sense of the ridiculous,
| and he sat down there and then and wrote
| The Fifteen Puzzle the first of tho series
| Of Spoopendyks stories. 1t attracted atten-
tention everywhere, and Spoopendyke was
| q permanent creation.
THE best Of these sketches, such es The
/ Lost Collar Button Opening the Sardines,
| etc, were founded upon actual occurrences.
| If 1 helped him at all In them it was only
| in pointing out to him the peculiarites of
| his own character and telling him what he
himself would never have KNOWN how
! amusingly absurd these peculiarities seemed
| to other people All things TO him, as to
| Spoopenkyke, were endowed with life. II
! he were annoyed by an obstinate pen or by
! the mornentary less of any needed article,
he would pour out upon it such a torrent of
| vehement AMI incongruoUs epitDets as
| would astound or coavulse every body
within hearing
| asked Mrs. Huntley fatty if it were un.
| true that she wrote some OF these sketches.
''Well," she hesitated, 81 attempted once
| to initiate his style in such a sketch, and it
was published 9nd went over the country
| as his. 1t was Mr.. SpOopendyke's hunting
trip. Mr.. Huntley WAS too ill to write or
even TO read it, before it was sent to the
Edgte. Daring the last two years Of his
life he was q pitiaole invalid. The people
who laughed over the humorous things he
continued to write would have felt tears
burning in their hearts if they could have
seen tais frail, delicate, nervous man,
racked with pain, aud burning with fever,
sitting bravely at his desk writing jokes to
pay our board bills.
"Now and then when could not bear to
soc him working thus prevailed on him to
let NJ do it for him. In this way l wrote
considerably for the Salad column, but it
was always supposed at tho Office that
had acted merely as his amanucnsis. Thus,
because of his illness and the pressure for
money, much OF my work went over the
country under cover OF his name. Oace,
when driven by necessity, he agreed against
his incli nation, to write a SERIAL story for
N6H 1UuuR LUX ptp6E. uTSb
weeks after the beginning of Daddy
Hoppler' Mr.. Huptley broke down COM
pletely, aud was ordered to sea by his ply
Stefan. An increasing board bill and an I'M
finished contract stared me in the face aud
| urged me TO the rashness of writing the
NEXT lnstallment, for which received 800
| This encouraged me, and | went in deeper.
| At the cad of five weeks Mr.. Huutley re-
| turned, considerably improved, and found
| me with bills all paid and a new serial
/ under way; and the gifted editor apparently
none the wiser.n
| Mrs Huntley has written no Spoopendyke
| sketches for publication since her husbands
| death, though publishers have frequently
| asked her to do so. About two Years ago
in Minneapolis, where she was an editorial
| writer for the Tribune, she wrote such a
| sketch merely for the moments amusement
| OF q lady friend whose husband had had a
| sort of Spoopendyke experience. 1t was
| but rough draft that Mrs. Huntley took
from her escritoire for me to see. IL took a
deal of pleading to get 1t for publication
| just as it was, but here it is"
| MR.. SPooPENDYKE FIXES A PRINTING
| PRESS.
II think, wife," said Mr. Spoopendyke,
| tossing his Sunday paper into the corner
| II think I'll 60 up stairs and fix that print
| ing press for our SON."
Mr.. Spoopendvke having finished good
| dinner, absorbed the news from the paper
and refreshed himself with nap in his
easy chair. was in just the humor to
| straighten the kinks out of Charles refrac-
tory machine.
| Come, my SON." and with beaming faces
father and offspring numbered garretward,
/ while Mrs. SpoOpendyke glanced after them
| with conscious pride.
| NOW, my son." said Mr.. Spoopendy ke,
seating himself on rickety garrett chair
and peering critically into the jaws OF the
| small ink daubed press-''now, we'll see
why this foolish old thing doesn't work for
| our boy. Wen see whether it is press or
boy that is out of kilter," and Mr.. Spoopen-
dyke smiled significantly and patted his
sons curly head
| Now, my boy, you see we place this type
in position, there, that way, and-adjust-
| lt-so. Sees Now we smooth it down this
way and lock it up, thus, and then-now,
watch me-then we do so,' and Mr.. Spoop-
endyke jerSed the han lie of the press aud
| triumphantly pulled out a sheet Of paper.
| 20, pa, them amt letters"
| "Whatw and Mr.. Spoopendyke looked
surprised. Then he peered into the machine
again. YES, yes | see-little too much
ink. Wen fix that all right, my son, and
he rubbed Off ink enough TO ruin the hand
kerchief with which he did it.
| Now, Well try it again. Ii will be all
right this time. Now watch how l do it,
my boy. There she goes"
IVY, pa, it's worse'n before"
] There were just few faint, scattering
lines traced on the virgin sheet
| well" said Mr.. S2oope ldyke rather
shortly, the top of his bald place turning
red and few leads of psrspiration starting
| to his brow, well, this is very strange
! What did l pay for this measly
machine, any how9 and what sort of
tinkering has been gong on with it,
! That's what I'd like to know. Guess
you've been trying TO make railroad
/ spikes in 'tead OF letters haven't you? On!
see. The whole thing is loose on the table.
How aid you expect to print when the press
was wobbilg around like that?' and Mr.
| S9oopendyke proceeded to screw it down
more firmly. But the screw was too small
| and the press continued to joggls.
! :. "Dodgast the thing" he muttered, "what
! dye mean by weighing about like a prohi-
| bitlon candidate in a high license town?
1 Don't you know that Spoopendyke