--but say, I want a fire in here."

"Yes, sir; I'll send up a fireman."

"A fireman? What do I want with _firemen_? Bring in some wood, and,
stranger--start up--a hello! thunder and saw mills, what's all that
racket about--house a-fire?"

"No, _sir!_" says the grinning servant--"the _gong_--supper's on the
table!"

"_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!

"According to Gunter."

Old Gunter was going home t'other night with a very heavy "turkey
on"--about a forty-four pounder. Gunter accused the pavements of being
icy, and down he came--_kerchug!_ A "young lady" coming along,
fidgetting and finiking,