HUMOUROUS.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 4012, 31 May 1884, Page 6 (Supplement)

HUMOUROUS.

DICTATING A LETTER. (BROOKLYN EAGLE.) ' Now, my dear,' said Mr Spoopendyke, when his wife had propped , him up in bed and stuffed some extra pillows under his shoulders ;'now, my dear, take your pen and ink and I will dictate a letter to Specklewottle. If you will play amanuensis I don't see why I can't be sick jußt as well as not.'

Mrs Spoopendyke pattered around and arranged her writing materials. 'Shall I write on a card with a gilb edge, or shall I take note paper ■?' she asked. ; ' You'd better use paper,' replied Spoopendyke severely. 'Wheu i want to convoy my ideas on a shingle- I'll carye 'em in vrith a knife. Now get ready, for I'm

going to start, and don't you interrupt me or you will put me out.' ' All ready, dear,' murmured Mrs Spoopendyke, dipping her pen into the ink and contemplating her husband anxiously. 'Mr Peter B. Specklewottle,' commenced Mr Spoopendyke. 'Is his middle name 'B' ? asked Mrs Spoopendyke, resting her album on the table, her head on her hand, and resting hor pen on the blotter. 'Idon't think I like his name any way. Peter isn't nice.' ' If any other name occurs to you, put it in,' observed Mr Spoopendyke, with a growl. 'You don't need to have a man's name in a letter. Put in anything and hurry up, will you ? Going to keep me in suspense all day about who this letter is going to ?' Mrs Spoopendyke plunged into her work and wrote hurriedly for a moment. ' Now I've got him in, dear.' • Got who in ? Anybody I know ? Am I dictating a private letter to a stranger? Got some particular friend you want this note to go to unbeknown to me ? Who's in there? I'm going to know who's at the top before I put my name at the bottom.' 'Why, Mr Specklewottle, of course, , Sftirl she, looking at him with wide open eyes. ' That's what you said. Now, go on with the rest.

'Have you got the date and 'dear sir' in too ?' asked Mr Spoopendyke peevishly. for he was trying to think how he should start his letter.

' No, dear, you didn't say anything about those,' responded his wife. ' Y"ou only said the name, but I'll put the others in. .

' Will, will ye ?' croaked Mr Spoopendyke. ' Sticking on a groat deal of credit to yourself for your kindness to tho sick, isn't ye ? Willing to yield your own preferences in favor of your suffering husband ! Well, you can't fool me that much. Don't put 'cm in ; hear me. , 'But I've got 'em in,' pleaded Mrs Spoopendyke. 'Then strike 'em out!' roared her husband. ' S'pose I'm going to let you put those things in and throw 'em up in my face from the moment I get well till the day I die?' Scratch'em out, I tell ye! I don't propose to have my life made miserable by reminders of your kindness when I was fishing around"in the grave with one leg! Now what have you got ?' ' Peter B. Specklewottle,' said Mrs Spoopendyke, mentally satisfied there could be no mistake in that.

'Anything to show whether he's a man or a woman ?' demanded Mr Spoopen-

dyke

''Any ' Mrs.' or 'Esq., hanging to it anywhere ?'

' Certainly,' replied Mrs Spoopendyko. 'It says ' Mr Peter B. Specklewottle.' That's the way you told me to write it, didn't you? Now go on with the letter.' ' Then put: ' I am dying, and I wish you—' 'Great gracious!' ejaculated Mrs Spoopendyke, dropping her pen. ' You are not dying, dear ; you don't want tho man to think that ?'

' Why not ? ' squealed Mr Spoopendyko. 'S'pose a man is going fourteen blocks out of his way to get the mail for a man

who only has a cold in his head ? You put it that I'm dying or I'll drop over into that corner and write the whole letter with ono application of the inkstand !' 'Go on, dear, , cooed Mrs Spoopendyko. 'I've got it so; only ho may think it strange that a dying man should write to him.'

' Then say, I want you to get my mail from the office, and tell them I will be over in a day or two.' ' Got that ?' ' Yes,' giggled Mrs Spoopendyke. ' Anything else ?' ' What're you laughing at!' howled Mr Spoopendyke, on whom the incongruities of his lotter had began to dawn. ' What have you got that measly mouth of yours stretched out like a dodgasted graveyard for ? Think I'm dictating a comic almanac ? Got a notion that this letter is some kind of

a rebus ?

Well, it ain't, and it ain't a

minstrel entertainment with a funny man at oach ond ! What're you laughing at ? Anybody in this country know ?' 'I wasn't laughing, dear,' murmured

Mrs Spoopendyke, with a marvellously straight face. ' I was only sympathising

with you. .

' Was, eh ?' grunted Mr Spoopendyke. ' Well, when it takes the form of a visage like you screwed up a minute ngo, I want to be hung, instead of being sympathised with. Another time you open your mouth like that I'm going to put seats in it and start a church.'

And cogitating on this vast improvement in his wife's anatomy, Mr Spoopendyke, forgetting all about his letter, rolled over and went to sleep.