MR SPOOPENDYKE PREPARES FOR A SHOOTING EXCURSION.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 4090, 30 August 1884, Page 6 (Supplement)

MR SPOOPENDYKE PREPARES FOR A SHOOTING EXCURSION.

" Say, my dear," said Mr Spoopendyke, gently, '■ can't ypn pack a valise for me. Specklewottle and Pare going duck shooting, now that the othe_ellows are all at home." " Oli, my ! " squealed Mrs Spoopendyke,, dropping her crazy quilt in all directions. " Promise me you won't take a gun." -- What's the matterwith the woman ?"

- inquired Mr Spoopendyke, losing his cheerfulness and eyeing his wife critically. " A gun, what d'ye suppose wo do with 1 guns. No, wo take 'salt, Mrs Spoopendyke ; salt, I say, and we climb trees and lay it on their tails. We're after tho breed of - ducks that roost in treetops like an owl I Understand?" "Oh," murmured M rg Spoopendyke, resuming her effort of working forget-me-nots with green silk. " That is i much nicer, and then they won't bo f u}l of HUle bullets like those you. bought last week. But be careful if it snows and come homo, , Tho paper says " " Dash what the papers pay," snorted Mr Spoopendyke. "With your knowledge of the weather and the science of gunnery you only need a little i less intellect and a little more pocket money ,lobe a whole Signal Service. But—sco here, did your paper say anything about a gifted female getting her husband's valise packed by the next general election?" •' Certainly, clear," responded Mrs Spoopendyke, lugging at the huge bag her husband brought in r<n.d finally placing it on the table. " That's right," ho yelled, v,*_ his obedient wifo jammed down the dross coat, " That's the kind of wife for a sportsman. Don't suppose those ducks will be any more impressed by my appearance in a hunting coat. Don't imagine for a moment that those birds will know the difference between Spoopendyke with frozen ears and a straw hat and all those traps I've wasted wealth on to protect my health." "And you'll want your new slippers," continued Mrs Spoopendyke, meditatively, her fingers on her lips, "and your new Hejwith polka dots."—" You've hit it now," yelled Mr Spoopendyko, springing up like a ball. « You've got it. Im going to a swell entertainment. Theso ducks are going to give a swell dinner; and I am going to make spoechos on tiro advancement "of duck and the evolution of fowl. Say, Mrs Spoopendyke," continued her 'husband, dropping into a ferocious calm, " do you think those ducks are giving a German out in tho swamps or indulging in' Italian opera in the marshes of the Norfolk Broads ? Well, they're not; and they're not giving'a'measly church sociable either. Consequently;' 'Mrs Spoopendyke, I'll bo forced to ask you to pack that receptacle as P shall diotato," and Mr Spoopendyke flung himself into a chair and glared, whilo his wife' proceeded to"' pack under his instniction. '' " Where are you going to put that ?" he'domnnded, _ His wife ■carofully folded his shooting 'coaV' " Why, here in the bottom, because "t" No you don't'," interrupted Mr 'Spoopendyke. " I want that on the top Where it will be handy and—what are you doing with'that?" ho ojaculatcd, as Mrs Spoopondyke'picked up a box of cigars. " Why, dear, I'll put these at tho bottom, and tho lighter articles-— "Not if Spoopendyko is in 'f uHpossessioh of his faculties. <T want that" and' my bottle of brandy on the (op in ease of accident. Think I'm going to fish forty days and forfv nights for these.necessitiesofh'fe ? Think I'm going to perch all night in a tree like a woodch'uek just becauso'you won't put my clothes where I qan find them." "But, my dear!," pleaded Mrs Spoopendyke; they all can't go oo'top," —-"Can't,ch ?" bawled Mr Spoopondyke, leaping from his chair, Can't have my own duds where they'll protect me -from tho wintry blasts ?"--and ho commenced playing football with' his wife's quilt." JBringme the idiotthat said a man was a king in his own castle," and he madega new departure in spatter work as Mrs Spoopendykc's inkstand struck the wall. " Show mc tho relic of the stone age that claimed a woman was born to comfort and command, ond, last in the procession,

trot out the fool that first trusted a woman to pack a valise," and Mr Spoopendyke's apparel described circles like a juggler's balls as he plunged into bed and buried his head in the pillow. " I don't care," murmured Mrs Spoopendyke, trying on her newjersey, "he's a great deal better off at home, and that will be nice when I'go to visit mother."