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” Ah, very well; go ahead; where’s the room?”

Conducted to the dining-room, Capt. Fussy’s eyes stretch at the wholesale display of table-cloths, arm-chairs, “crockery” and cutlery, mirrors and white-aproned waiters. A seat is offered him, he dumps himself down, amazed but determined to look and act like one used to these affairs, from the hour of his birth!

“I ordered hot steak, poached eggs–hain’t you got ’em?”

“Certainly, sir!” says the waiter, and the steak and eggs are at hand.

“Coffee or tea, sir?” another servant inquires.

“Coffee and tea! Humph, I ordered chocolate–hain’t you got chocolate?”

“Oh, yes, sir; there it is.”

” Ah, umph!” and Fussy gazes around and turns his nose slightly up, at the whole concern, waiters, guests, table, steak, eggs, chocolate, and–even the tempting hot rolls–before him.

Fussy calls for a glass of water, wants to know if there’s fried oysters on the table; he finds there is not, and Fussy frowns and asks for a lobster salad, which the waiter informs him is never used at supper, in that hotel.

Eventually, Capt. Fussy being crammed, after an hour’s diligent feeding, fuss and feathers, retires, asks all sorts of questions about people and places, at the office; what time trains start and steamers come, omnibuses here and stages there, all of which he is politely answered, of course, and he finally goes to his room, rings his bell every ten minutes, for an hour, and then–goes to bed; next day puts the servants and clerks over another course, and on the third day–calls for his bill, finds but few extras charged, hands over a five, puts on his gloves, seizes his valise, looks savagely dignified and stalks out, big as two military officers in regimentals!

” Ah,” says Fussy, as he reaches the street, ” I put ’em through– I guess I got the worth of my money! “

We calculate he did!