Spoopendyke Contemplating His Last Moments. A Solemn Conversation.

Te Aroha News, Volume IV, Issue 192, 19 February 1887, Page 3

Spoopendyke Contemplating His Last Moments. A Solemn Conversation.

" My dear," eaid Mr Spoopendyke, turning, in Lib chair and contemplating his wife wifcn a solemn expression on his visage. w ,'My, dear, what would you do if I , were auddepjy caliedaway by the angels?" „| S: •'Good gracious 1" exclaimed Mrs Spoopendyke. dropp.bg, her scissors and, looking up with a jerk. {• What put, that idea in your head ?" , , . ••Don't you think they are, just as liable to come fishing after me as auyone else ?"' demanded Mr Spoopendyke, sitting up ( attaight and rumpling hie hair ominously, ••P'raps you have gut,, some kjud of a notion that the rest ,of the world have a, -tsorner on thia, angel business, aud that I m ahort on a rising market. What I asked wae, what would you do if I should ba^, called home without any particular amount, of warning ?" , , , , "You needn't be afraid of that, V smiled Mre Spoopendyke. "It is a great, deal more likely that I will go before you do. Why, you are good for forty yet, and you know I am not very strong." , *« Got it all fixed, havon't you ?" remonstrated Mr Spoopendyke, straighteningbolt upright, and glaring at his spouse. " Been making all the arrangements for the dissolution of this family without consulting anybody, haven't ye? I tell ye no man ltnoweth when thela«t measly hour cometh, and if you think your candle haß got any lonf-er wick than mine you're way off your nut, you hear ?" **Vee, dear," murmured Mrß Spoopendyke, soothingly, "If you should die, dear, I think it would kill me." "Now you're talking," grinned Mr 13poopendyke, somewhat mollified by this concession on the part of his wife. ' ' You know tha best of ua is liable to go any moment, and you can't tell when I'm likely to be scooped up. Think you'd cry much ?" »n<* Mr Spoopendyke folded hia arms and assumed an aspect of great resignation, as *bough he already heard the bells ringing for htm " Why, of course," replied Mrs Spoopendyke, rather puzzled bv the drift of the con--voreatien. "I should try to think that -you were better off, but it would be natural for me to shed tears." •• Just so !" grunted Mr Spoopendvke. *' And if the natural tears didn't hold out, I suppose you'd chuck in a few artificial ones ratnor than not keep up your end of the atick ! What makes you think I'd be better off?" he continued, "as he caught the full force of the reflection that there might be aoaxe consolation for the widow in the faith that he had done a pretty clever thing by dying. "Be glad, wouldn't you, to see me launched into the grave like a fence post ? Be a grear, deal of comfort, to you to know that you would never see me again, or hear my voice any more !" and here Mr Spoopendyke broke down under his emotion, and covered his face with his hands, " Don't you feel well, dear ?" asked Mrs Spoopendyke timidly. " Let me make you >» cup of tsa, and you'll soon get over your had feelings." *• Never mind," whispered Mr Spoopendyke. in a broken voice. " I suppose you'd get the most expensive mourning you could find, and have it made up as becoming as the life ineurance would pormit, wouldn't you ?" '♦ Certainly, dear, if you wieh it," as*et.t?d Mr.n Spoopendyke. "Only I don't think I could have it ready in time for the funeral. I could borrow a black drees uniil mine was done, but " '• And I puppose you could hire some grief to help you through the allotted period of bereavement, couldn't you ?" hie^ed Mr Spoopendyke, forgetting that he •wti-i theoretically dead, and bouncing off bid chaif. " There wouldn't be time to get on all the flounces and ruffles between my death and burial, and you'd have to rent appropriate exprepsions of profound melancholy? Is that the way you want to be understood? Couldn't go to my funeral miles? you could outehine all the other dorJr^asted widows in our set ! That the ideoTyou want to convey ? That all the consolation you want to pervade my la9t hour vrith ?" ♦ k No, dear," cooed Mrs Spoopendyke, eomwhat at a loss to express herself. •• What would you like to have me do ?" ««Do >" roared Mr Spoopendyke, who had expscted the prospective widow to burst into tears at the suggestion of hip demise " What do I expect you to do ? Go fishing ! When the Trump of Immortality sounds for Spoopsndyke, and he replies 'Lord, the remains are prepared for the sacri fice!' 1 expect you to get a lot of old bans together and have a candy pull. Understand it now? Does that dying re queit convey to your mind any intelligent k4ea of the list wishes of the defunct ? Thiok you could carry out that bequest -without getting the molasses all over the corpse ?" " Ye-, dear," sighed Mrs Spoopendyke, struggling to keep the tearß back, as in her 'imagination she conjured up the vision of Mr Spoodendyke lying in hie coffin with his poor face all stuck up with treacle. " Only I wouldn't like to have a five in the house ■when you were dead, because it would be so hot for the mourners, and you know a corpse ought to be kept as cool as possible in the warm weather." "So it ought, hadn't it?" yelled Mr Spoopendyke, rather startled by this practical suggestion that be might not keep in .a warm house. " And the mourners ought to be kept, comfortable if they are going to enjoy the proceedings !' he continued, re membering that in the enumeration of the reason* for not building a fire the feelings of the bereaved were consulted before the effect on the late lamented. "That buets thnt pcheme. Ko candy pull over the remains of Spoopendyke ! Can't ye think of something else? I say," he bawled, a* a new aud particularly bright idea struck him, "You might have a game of Aunt Sally with me ! Set me up in the corner and throw sticus at mo, and then you could have in some ice-cream for the BDOurnerd ! That would keep all hands cool, and bust the hind sights off any funeral that ever came off in these parts ! How <JO9S that strike you? Think you could manage to put up wifch my loss on a racket of that kind?" and Mr Spoopendyke placed bis hand to his oar as if anxious not to lose a word of his wife's reply to this sensible proposition. " Wouldn't you rather have me get some flowers, dear, and fill your poor coffin up with fragrance?" asked Mrs Spoopondyke, looking up to him affectionately. "No !"' roared Mr Spoopendyke, as the grim aspect of crosses, wreaths, and anchore in » übero^es presenteditself to him. "I don't *aot any measly flowers. Think I'm going to lie still in a box, while a lot of dodgasted >©!d womer, headed by a prancing widow in -a borrowed drees, mardh past and shy vegetables at me ? Think I'm an opera singer, to lioisfc »ip in my coifin and bow every time a oceaely idiot fires a dandelion at ms, and have pcmeore in the back end of the church yell * Speech 1' That your notion of a funeral ? With your ideas about death, all 3on want is a pair of silver handles and an nuioppy to be a railroad accident !" And •with this complicated illustration of "hie vif« 181 8 viewßof itmnortality, Mr Spoopendyke riammcd the door after him and went to the tttOOS.

"I don't care,!' murmured Mrs Qpoopendyke, aa he. departed, *'l "don't, oaye. 'At, . all funerals I havQ, attended they had flowers, add, if >?e dpa't havo some when my poor husband dies they'll say we .didn't , have', any friends , or money, Any.wj»y fc I. hope he dpn'^ die before I do § and then he'll . know what trouble it io to hunt up, hie own things, and .what it is. to Ye without any- , one tq piit them , away, , for him," andi with this sentiment Mrs . Spoopendyke, put her husband's rgzor strop behind the clock, and hifij pjlpe into the, shoe bag, and .then sat down to .wonder, -how she would look in i mourning if s^e should ever .'• be driven to ! thepjmcb,", \ , „ „