Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 11, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 March 1894 — No Cure for Squeaking Shoes. [ARTICLE]

No Cure for Squeaking Shoes.

“These shoes will drive me crazy,” said my friend Craggs to me as he put forward in evidence a foot clad in a brand new and decidedly neat looking cork soled shoe. “I wouldn’t mind a touch of that same form of insanity myself,” said I, looking disparagingly at the pair which incased my own feet. “Perhaps not, but just listen.” My friend arose from his chair and walked briskly across the room, whereupon there ensued a tumult of squeaking and shrieking from the soles of his shoes that much resembled the groaning of a prairie wagon across the plains. “I bought these shoes,” continued Craggs, “because they had cork soles and would keep my feet dry. When I found them possessed of this infernal squeak I was willing to try anything to stop it that offered a chance of success. One of my friends told me to place the shoes overnight on a sheet of wet blotting paper and in the morning the squeak would be gone. I did so. When I put them on the next morning they were soaking wet, and I had to wear them that way all day. The result was I caught cold, and not only did it fail to stop the squeaking of the shoes, but every time I drew a long breath for the next week my chest squeaked nearly as loud as the shoes. “Acting upon the advice of other friends I have variously filled the soles full of pegs till they looked like anything but hand-sewed shoes, oiled them, soaked them, hammered them. The only satisfaction I have derived is from the latter—but the shoes bid fair to squeak on forever. “If I’m late to church I go home again rather than walk down the aisle. If I’m late to theatre I—ahem —I squeak my way shamefacedly to my seat. When I walk along the street the newsboys yell at me and take a fiendish delight in my embarrassment. Finally, when my business keeps me out late at night, as it often does, I actually have to sit down on the front stoop and take off my shoes before I enter the house rather than wake the occupants of the entire flat. “I have learned one thing, to my sorrow. Total annihilation is the sole and. only cure for squeaking shoes.”—[New York Herald.