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153, TEflSUE'S BEHAVIOR. ritten for This Paper, by E. W. Hornuno-. tCOPYHIGHT.] CHAPTER 1. When the eldest Miss Teague got engaged to bo married she startled the parish and delighted a greater number of per.-:ons than aro usually af fected by the happiness of one. 'Also it looked as if she had broken a certain undesirable spell: at any rate, the sec ond Miss Teague was wooed and mar ried within that year. Now the Muses Teague's father the respected rector of Kix—might or might not have been able to tell you, off-hand, how many Miss 'leagues there were. All he cared to remember was that he had ono son to succeed to the living. His future was assured, and indeed he was already a rector in his own right, elsewhere, for the time be ing. But what future had the girls if they did not marry,J They had no money of tfteirown. neither tho.v nor thiur father had any notion of their making any such notions do not travel to places Jiko Rix. They had no mother. They paw very few young men. It was really wonderful how one of thom had become eugaged and another actually married. But the younger ones did not follow suit: and the younger ones were not so very young: yet all they did was to olav tennis very hard, dance whenever they could, have the gieatest fun among themselves in the school-room, and take life at all points less seriously than the eldest sister, who was in for a long engagement. Miss Teague—whose name was Caro line—was perhaps a thought too seri ous: but then she had serious responsi bilities to fulfill—it had been so from hor earliest girlhood. She kept house at the rectory, played the organ, in church, and did more in the parish than the, rector himself. would be a difficult task to describe Miss Teague, for the reason that lief beauty was largely spiritual, it lay in her largo clear gray eyes, so kind, trustful and sympathetic. You could look through "ana through hor, at least a keen judge of human nature could. Thinking well of everybody, she had 110 reason for concealing her thought?. Sho didn't know that she was so' hon est. The harmony of her nature was like the song bird's melody—poured out rather machine-like. She was ono if those women who find it easier to trust people than doubt them. And yet Caroline was not devoid of physical grace and beauty. Tall, slender and with an exquisito complexion, a trifle ua'.e, perhaps, but strangely white and perfect, a great wealth of dark chest nut hair and teeth unusually free from blemish cr defect, all these added to that charm which lay in the trustful gaze of her large gray eyes. It need hardly be said that sho was very much liked in I?ix, and that she was devoted tc tho people. In tho schoolroom at home she was looked up to, rather, and admired, of cour.-e bat she sometimes felt she spoiled the fun there. Sho was less noisy than the rest, and .-ensibly older she was older than their brother, even, who ma:le a gajj between her and tho younger ones which Fanny's marriage had sen.-ibly widened. The girls hardly looked on Caroline as one of themsel ves she had such unattraitive interests, and her tenuis was not up to their level. There was no part for her, really, in their amusements—though they appreciated her presence and applause "in front." And if they were more bent upon en •joyment than she was, and if they did let her stay at home nearly always, when only so many cou go to this or that, were they not much younger than Caroling? And wa not Laroiine engaged? Iler engagement was never lost sight of in the schoolroom though one might have known Miss Teasrue rather well without suspecting that tiie brisk, unselfish creature was in love. It was along engagement, certainly. Caroline had become used to her en gagement rii before Fanny met her fate at the county t.mrnament: and Caroline caressed Fanny's baby, as Miss Teague still, with shapeless feel ings, which she herself but imperfect ly undorstocd. She had been engaged three years, and for eighte months she had not seen him. He was a clergy man, too, the Keverend Neel Fenny man. Ho had a pedigree. I believe, but it wou'd have been better if he had possessed some private means as it was he had taken a curacy at the other end of England, where he was working very zealously in a busy, grimy city. His letters came regular ly twice a week to the lazy, rustic rectory at Kix—letters from another world. They were always interesting and amusing, and written with care in Pennyman's pretty, scholarly hand and Caroline, though so alert and prac tical, had her own spot in the old gar den where she used to read them, three seasons out of four while even happier hours were spent in her own room late at night in answering these letters. "No. we're going to wait till Noel has a living," she used firmly to reply to inquisitive friends. "We're per fectly resigned, thank you. It would be miserable to marry now on the little he has: I mean it would make Noel miserable. He is working tre mendously in his parish: and 1 am in mine, you know, and we're both con tent to wait. He is certain to get something some day if he sticks to that diocese. Do I wish he were nea: er? Well, I should like to know the people he is among, certainly: he tells me all about them. I know their names, but I should like to know them. It will all come right in tho end. Noel is very sensible about it—you don't know how sensible he is—so surely I can be. too. You see, we are neither of us chick ens." Her face shone when she spoke of him. It was true that they were not boy and girl but Caroline, as a mat ter of fact, was the elder of the two. As for Pennyman, he was an Oxford friend of Teague, and had stayed many times at the rectory before' he oro posed to Caroline, or paid her particu lar attention even. The affair had I seemed rather sudden at the time, but everybody was glad about it: and we know that it broke a most evil spell. It was a pity, of course, that l-'cnay man's distinguished family we'e neither wealthy nor connected with the church by any moie influential link than 1 ennyman. But Pennvman was clever and hard-working as well as handsome, tall and dashing and pre ferment was certain to come, in me. Meanwhile, he was particularly sensi ble. He was engaged to a young wom an who would mako an ideal clergy- CAIIRIKD HEll GOOD NEWS ON TO TUE SCHOOLROOM: man's wifo—who would assist him im mensely in his parish—who had his views—who was as well up in the whole thing as ho was himself—who was en tirely in love with him. He could well all'ord to wait. He was too sensible even to quirrel with the irritating'set of circumstances that kept them apart lor eighteen months. He wrote his neat, entertaiuing, sensible letters the whole time—and one, at the end, that brought tears of ^oy to Caroline's wise gray eye -. She took it to the rector in his study, and told him very simply that at last Noel could come, if they could do with him. Of course they could do with him and the proud old parson, leaning back from his desk, kissed his daughter in kind congratulation. "But dear mo," said ho, "how long it is sincj he was here—what a time he has been up yonder! Keally ho ought to be getting something better: he de serves it, I am sure. Do you think ho lcoks out enough?" "Drar father," said Caroline, in her gentle way, -ho is very fond of his work up there he loves it and tho peo ple, and of course they aro devoted to him. You know, we look at it very sensibly. You shall marry us some day!" "I am ready when you are, mv dear." said the rector, dryly. His spectacles were leveled at the buttercups and daisies through the open window. He was ther serious. "And I must say I shall bo glad when you are ready. You have been_cngage:i three years. It is a long business, shall miss you dread fully, Caroline, and there is nj one to till your place—I realize that. But I want to tee you happy, my child—I do wrnt to see you happy." "Father, I can i.ever be happier than I am now!" cried Caroline, with her wi:ole hoa t. But she left the rec tor still thoughtfully rogarding tho unshorn lawn. He was looking back at his own case, perhaps. He had mar ried on a curacy, avid a ponr one. long before his succes iou to the family liv ing: in his day, in fact, as he remem bered it, .young people who wanted one another had not been so sensible. Miss Teague carried her good news on to the school-room, for she had not opened tho letter until after breakfast, in the usual place. The room was the school-room in name nlv now, and the 'aughtor and high spirits within made Caroline pause in self-conscious trepidation beforo opening the door. When she did go in, however, the girls were perfectly sweet about it. They threw down their work—thev did a little work in th& mornings, some times. it is fair to say—and were hon estly an 1 noisily delighted. And Miss Teague, smiling and blushing in their midst, looked as pretty, just then, as her pretty sisters. In 'reality she was no such thing. She had beautiful hair and good gray eyes, and there was character in her mouth, but her sistars were pretty and much younger. Caroline had told her father "she could never be happier than she was then and perhaps the fortnight that intervened between the receipt of Noel Pennyman's delightful news and that young clergyman's actual arrival was the happiest time she had ever known. She spent it in the cloudless nook of anticipation. He was coming again, the man it was her pride to love7 and she had not seen him for a year and a half. She wrondered how the time had passed,now she looked back upon it. She shuddered at the thought of an other such term of separation, and di vided labor, and patient waiting, and. faith and hoje. Yet her he me life was particularly full, interesting, and re sponsible. She had believed formorly that nothing under heaven could in duce her to leavo home and Rix, but that was before she knew Noel Penny man well. Now it was her proud de sire to give up all she loved so dearly for him she loved more dearly still. Her love was of the sacrificial sort. What it cost her it was her pride to sutler indefinite delay, lone separa tions, the unsettling intermediate state of the betrothed, aud all attendant pangs, she suffered eagerly for his sake—as eagerly as she worked stoles and vestments for his person. She considered it her blessed privilege to wait, and su er. and work iwhen she could) for Ncel, but she did not go about saying so. You could see it in hor face, but her ha ipiness was too genuine to het d, or even to allow, in genious explanation. Her best frien ts never heard hor say that she had real ized her ideal in this and that respect. Probably she had done to in all re spects. But this never occurred to her. in so many thoughts. Slie loved. Her love added luster to a life al ready shining with a kindly lighf. ft beaded upon those privileged souis who peopled her little happy world, it made tho large soft heart of Caroline Teague softer and larger yot. It, widened her synip ithies. it broadened her railed. It'uvo 11 he/ lingers, evoa, on tho organ keys, a tender uoul/ul touch which some loving listsnors dis covered that they had missea iier playing hitherto. isow that ho was coming again after so long an absence, these kind signs increase and were intensified. But Mi-s Teague did some quite weak things in private. She surveyed her self tho glass, repeatedly, ono might say exhaustively. She gave more thought to her dress than she had over given before. Hitnerto the idea had scarcely over suggested itself to Miss Teague that a woman could by careful and intelligent study of her complexion and figure, of her peculiar style, as it is tritely termed, increase the charm of her per sonality. She would have been loath to admit that a young woman had any right to attract a man's attention by loading him to think that sho was pjt sessod of either a, moral or a physical beauty when in reality she was not. To Caroline deception in any form or to any degree, no matter how slight, was abhorent. Even to gain a fortune or a man's love she could not have brought herself to ,lend her skin an additional softness and whiteness by dusting it with iwdfer. But when her thoughts reverted to her betrothed, it suddenly floated upon her mind that possibly he'had changed, possibly during these many months he had been thrown among so-called fash ionable young women who study modes with a real intensity of application, who follow tho styles', who are thor oughly informed as to every new dis covery in the art of decorating and beautifying the person, and for the first time it occurred to her she wa what is .commonly denominated a plain girl, whilo he was a tall, handsome, dashing man, very little like what his calling would lead one to suppose him to 1:o, and no doubt, too, ho was popu lar with women How could it bo otherwise? Handsome men were sure to be flattered and feted and made much of. It often spoiled them, too, for they were, in spite of their pre tension to being the stronger vessel, quite-as weak, quite as susceptible "to flattery, qi its as pufl'od up with social success, quite as prone to ba undone by excessive commendation as the weaker vessel. In fact, even more so, for the reason that their fancied se curity afforded them by their stronger minds really made them rush more quickly into danger. And yet they were but mortal, born woman, with not even woman's lofty tense of duty to restrain th nn Caroline's thoughts absolutely star tled her. Sho had never bofore fallen into such a train. s.The b.ood rushad to hor pale cheeks, for to hor it was a species of disloyalty t: Noel to have had^ these thoughts. She had such confidence in him, born of her deep and unselfish love for the man. No there was no need io.1 her to beautify herself, tlo had never no ticed her gowns, never spoken of their becomingiiess or their lack of it. He Knew how absolutely and completely her heart belonged him. He must have been bliud, indeed, not to be able to read those groat, dear, calm, c!e .r gray eves-so full of tenderness, so vory beautiful and soulful when their long dark lashes shut out the grosser light of day and save the glow of her soul a chance to be seen and felt! No, she would not beautify her per son any more than had been her wont. It would be to admit a lack of confi dence in herself, more than that, a lack of confidence in Noel! But sho dV". Vir/a- NOEIj, and SHE SAT TOOETHEH. would leave nothing undone to pleaso him, nothing which a thoughtful and considerate fiancee should do. Hence, sho began to devote herself most assid uously to her music, she practiced the songs he admired, learned new ones, and was especially careful to provide herself with a number of duets so that they might sing together. To Caro line song was far more than it was to the ordinary worldly woman, and when Noel's full deep resonant voice chorded with hers it seemed to her a proof that their lives would melt into a har mony as their voices did. CSIAI'IKE ir. But she thought of other things, too things not quite so poetic and ethereal. Her tennis, for instance, and set to improve her game, for he played, and —in private, again—in that favorite outdoor retreat of hers, in fact, she read, through the whole accumulation of his ljtters, from the very beginning of the engagement, This romantic task occupied her from morning- until night, the night of his arrival. It wag long since she had looked at the earli er letters, and they pleased her. They were not so sensible as late ones by any means, but they were rather more flat tering, and indeed they had come oft ener than twice a week in those days. Caroline lingered over these old let ters, and, though those of the last year were wise and witty and kind, the for mer appea'ed most strongly to her present mood. The leaves whispered to hor as sho read and dreamed tho birds sang all around her, for this haunt of hers was merely a little clear ing among the trees, where rotted a worm-eaten table and garden seat. And on the latter, next morning, NOJI and she sat together, at opposita onds of it, in the m.st sensible manno im aginable. Their conversation alsosh' wed their sense. "It is a charming spot," said the Rev. Noel Pennyman (ce talniy tliey had bo en sitting 'there some time "it really "i am g'ad you like it. 1 love it Caroline added a little shyly* "aud you know why." "Why?" asked Mr. Per.nyman. inno cently. !to i:e cox'HMtriSD. •MMMBE A NEW STORY OF THACKERAY. riie Crent fiovcli'it Acts a True Krirnd to a Sick S$trs*ntjer. As, toward the end of October, a little over thirty years ago, the night train of the..Chemiti!eie Fer du Nurd was about to leave the station at Paris an English gentleman got into a tlrst-r ass compartment, and. stow ing away his small valise, took his seat in one of the vacant corners. He noticed that in the seat opposite to him was a gentleman who appeared to be 111. His face was deathly pa:e he was breathing very hard and he appeared to be great pain. "Are vou 111, sir? Can 1 be of any assistance to you?" the gent eman asked. *'1 am very ill," the sufferer replied faintlv. am subject to a very painful malady, and feeling an at tack coming on while in .Switzerland 1 resolved to go home—to England. It generally gives me a week's warn ing, but I l'eel 1 shall not reach Calais alive." ni 4- 1 sir," said his fellow traveler feeling ly. "J am a perfect stranger in Paris. I have come right through from Geneva, and I do not know a word of French," replied the sick man, almost in a state ot collapse. AH night the gentleman was ex ceedingly ill, nor did he improve much the next day. The following morning a relation of thaJ su(rerer— who had been telegraphed for—ar rived and the lcind-heartecl gentle man, who had put off his journey to Encland, thrown away his railway tare, and spent two nights and a day almost constantly by tlie sick man's side, handed over the sufferer to the care ot his friend. Then, and not until then, did this golden-hearted man decide to resume his interrupted journey. Going into the patient's room in the evening to bid him good-by, he said: "I must now wish you farewell, as I have important business in London. I wish you a hearty godsceed toward recovery." The sick man was still extremely ill and not able to do more than press his benefactor's hand and whisper a few words of gratitude. The relative of the patient, how ever, who was no other than his sister, followed the gentleman out ot the room and said: "'leiu ha\e not done me the honor to tell me to whom I ancl my brother owe so signal an act or" kindness as that which you have shown to an utter stranger. Had you not so gen erously and disinterestedly taken compassion on him I fear his rela tives and friends would never have s«en him again alive. In thanking you again for yo.ir kindness, the e fore, I should like to know to whom we are so much indebted. Besides, you forfeited the cost of your railway tickct. If you will allow me to re imburse you the amount •'Do not mention it," said the gen. gentleman, "It is of no conse quence." "You will at least do me the pleas ure of permitting us to know your nsme?" "Certainly. I will give you my card." With these words the gentleman took out his cardcase and handed the lady his card. She read upon it the name: "William .Makepeace Thack ery." It was some weeks before the in valid was well enough to resume his journey, but after his return to Eng land one of the first visits he paid was to call upon the great novelist, in company with his sister, to thank hiiu personally for the great kind ness he had shown him when, as he believed, he should have died but for his timely assistance. TRIED THE LARD OUT OF HOGS. Whopper Tola of the Summer of 1871 by a. Stock-Yards Packer. Down at the stock yards the pre vailing hot weather has been felt with more than ordinary severity, and the packers and shippers have but little else to do but sit around in the offices, wait for the strike to set tle,, and tell stories of various propor tions. One of the best heard was tolel by a prominent packer, which is simply printed to demonstrate that the spirit of Ananias hovers over the stock yards. The packer said: "Many of you v/ill remember that for a few weeks just previous to the great fire of 1881, Chicago exper ienced a period of extreme heat and everybody and everything suffered accordingly. At that time the pack ing-houses were being run at their full capacity, and the hog pens were crowded, home of these hogs had to stand several days, aud the packers notked that something was wrong, for as a whole they began to look a little lean. An expert was sent into the pens to investigate, and he found that the flooring of the peris was cov ered with a heavy, thick grease, aud upon closer investigation it was learned that the effect of the ex tremely hot weather had been so se vere that the lard ran off those hogs. We had noticed that the runways used for driving the hogs into the killing houses were slippery, and tnafc manv a ho^ after reaching the entire height, slipped all the way buck wr ing to the trreat amount of lard that d.ipped on the lloor. To obviate this a thick felt covering was made which was placed under pressure between two rollers every night, in which manner lard was withdrawn from it. I think that the weather of that summer redined the liesh of ihoso hogs at least 20 per cent." A SOLDIER S LEGS. Tlicjr Are Ajit to Kim, but tlio Dirnm Don't T»il the Kxpcrlnrii'c, "People will never tire listening to war stories," said a veteran the other day. "but you never hear of any of them telling of their running exper iences. It is not because they never run, lor all of us have been through that school. No man ever went into battle hut what he was glad when it was over. The legs of the bravest get very weak in the presence of shot and shell, and bravery, attei all, is only a matter of honor the man without honor is a coward. is luvisiu The lion- But you mus'o not go on, my dear orable man has nothing to fear, and C'll/1 hli f/i 11 r\ in battle he would suffer J0,00U e.eaths rather than have a comrade say he failed to do his whole duty. Hut as to running—yes, I Lave run. Tell you about it? Certainly. "One afternoon, while 1 was in charge of the rear guard, on a march ,T, i» "i mc iwi Kuaiu, uu a marca J1 will never do lor you to travel in Virginia, a number of men dropped that state. Come, let me help you out of the ranks for tho purpose of out belore the train start*" (hunting -applejack." The com- Ihe k,nelly gentleman was not a manding officer of the guard ordered moment, too soon. Put by the kind- me to take a detachment, return to ly aid of a porter he got the sufferer the little town through which we had out of the tram, placed hiin gentry 1 passed a halt hour before, and arrest in a cab, anel had him taken to the the stragglers. 1 obeyed the corn hotel which he himself had just mand, and, by fast riding, soon had quitted, and where he knew the sick the 'applejack' nnnters in charge. On man weiuld receive evorv attention. the return, as it was late in the day, Caring ior him on the way with all we moved at a leisurely pa e. A half the tenderness of a womau, he bade him cheer up, for he knew a physician who was one (,f the highest author mile from the town, a lane crossed the road on which we were traveling. This lane was over a small rise of 7 tuio low vrao uvci a siuau rise 01 lties on the particular disease from ground, so that one could not sue t&r Which hr wae en 11 nrimr which he was sullering. alontr its stretch. "Between where I was riding and the mouth of the lane I noticed a suspicious object moving along to ward us it dodged from one earner to another of the fence, apparently trying to corneal itself. While wond ering what the fellow—for by this time I discovered that the object was a colored man—was up to I was near enough to speaie. 'Don't stop,' said the man. 'Go as fast as you can. The 'federates '11 git you. Dey's rite ober the hill go as fas' as you cm.' I gave the order and away wo went, as last as horses could carry us. We had just crossed the mouth of the lane when the 'federates appeared on the summit of the little hill. "With the famous 'rebel yell' they came sailing down that lane, fihoot iDg at every lump. We put spars to our horses and presented as small a target as possible by lying lew on their ne. ks. It was a hot race, with the chances in favor of the Con federacy. For two miles the 'gray backs' chased us, keeping up a con stant and rapid (Ire, but, thanks to our horses, we escaped without the loss of a man. That was not the only time that 1 ran, but the story will sullice lor this time. We owed our safety to the thoughtfulne- of the -man and brother,' debt which I always recall when I hear the race traduced."—Courier-.Tournal. ATI Ingenious Toad. A scientific journal tells thin story of a toad's cunning: A brood of (i kens was fed with moistened meal in saucers, and when the dough soured a littie it attracted a large number of flies. An observant toad had evidently notned this, and every day toward evening he would make his appearance in the yard, hop to a sau er, climb in and rol, over and over until*he was covered with meal, having done which he awaited de velop i.ents. The I'y, enticed by the smell, soon swarmed around the scheming batrachian and whenever one passed within two inches of his nose his tongue darted out, aD^ the fly disappeared. The plan worko:l so well that the toad made a regular business of it.—Kansas Journal of Commerce. A Trifling Mistalce. A gentleman passing along a street one day came across a man sup. posed to be blind, but the gentleman thought he could see. Going up to the man he put ten cents down in front of him, and aaid: "Pick that up." The man stooped d»wn and picKed it up. "My man, you can see." "I know thatj," said the man. "Then why have you that card on to say you are blind'-"' The man looked at him and said: "Me, sir':"' "Yes, you," cried the gentleman. "Look and see for yourselr." The man looked at the card, and then at the gentleman, and said: "Blowed if there ain't some mis take. I'm deaf and dumb." IF a vessel is unlawfully taken, it does not have to be run down oa the ocean to be a capture on the high seLe. A maiden desirous of a swaying figure can easily attain the same by brisk exercise with a swinging gait. "You can't eat your dinner and have it too." said the sympathetic steward to the.seasick passenger. WHY should not we begin with Adam whenwe preach against sland ering the dead:-" IK Heaven is above why do so many try to get there by going down the back stairs. JUDGING from appearances, all tho sour grapes do not grow in the devil's vineyard. THE greatest, of ancient nations have left us nothing but their litera turs RAM'S HORN BLASTS. Wartifaff Notes Calling the Wicked to Ra pfntaDce. Rstony ELIGIOUS zeal too often has a heart. THE devil prob ably loves a stingy man. HAPPINESS is never found by running after it. THE man who is not a friend will never have one. Hio words often make a poor cloak for a small idea. Tiiurir always lives in a house that built on a rock. ICvehv good woman is a constant •eminder that God lives. Tim world is full of religion that lidn't come from Christ. Tkiai,s may frighten, but they can not hurt a child of God. (ion's laws are never kept until they are written in the heart. BAD men always hate the laws that cood men try to enforce. Evuuy crown that comes from the hand of man has thorns in it. TIIKUK are educated pigs, but there arc none that do not like mud. THK fact that enemies are loved is proof that Christ has "been on earth. It is when the devil looks least like a devil that he is most danger ous. The young man who has no aim in life will sooner or later fall into the ditch. Wiiex you go to church to pray for a revival, don't wear shoes that squeak. A iistn'terksted act of kindness Is something the carnal mind cannot explain. Tim sermons that do the most to save the world are not preached in pulpits. TrrnoK is high in the school of experience, but the instruction thorough. Tiie drunkard is a drunkard e cause the devil won't let him be any thing else. NOBODY is ever awakened by the preaching of a man who is himself half asieep. ilnxtsBK and thirstafter righteous ness is sure evidence that the face i3 toward God. WHENEVER the world comes face to fuce with unselfish love it has to stop and think. Some people are always blaming God for the troubles they bring upon themselves. THE only thing thatgives us stand ing, from where angels look, is like ness to Christ. One reason why people make crooked paths is because they keep looking back. THE principal work of unbelief is to make a foundation of sand look like solid rock. It is seldom .that a man with a big income is ever persecuted for right eousness' sake. No matter how dark things look, if God is leading we are on our way to something bright. THE man who has contentment haa something that will do a ureat deal more for him than money. Tiieke is no sin so little, but that if it had the right of way and time enough, it would wreck the universe. When some ministers preach on the judgment, they do so without .anymore heart in them than a steel trap. When our risen Lord said to Peter, "Feed my sheep," he didn't mean that he should do it with the world's husks. The kind of givina upon which God promises a blessing, is the giving that is willing to give some of its own blood. The main reason why Moses and Joshua accomplished great thinsrs, 'was because they were willing for God to be commander-in-chief. EVERY Christian mother has as much of a call to preach to her chil ren as Peter had to preach to the multitude on the day of Pentecost. Many a gifted preacher can And time to read a new book every weeie, •who couldn't find the parable of the prodigal son without a concordance. All the Same, Anyway. A man went into a restauract the other day and tc.ok a seat on a stcol. He looked at the bill oi fare a min ute and then beckoned to the waiter. •'Hay," he said, "gimme some Teal." "What's that, sir?" asked the waiter, as he brushed the crumbs in to the man's lap, and handed him a glass of water in which his thumb was immersed beyond the first joint. "Gim:ne some veal." "Veal?" "Yes, veal," The waiter wandered off to the kitchen and held au animated con versation with the cook. Pretty soon he came back and put a plate of dark red meat in front ot the customer and began to pay close attention to the electric fan. The customer turned t':emeat over curiously with his fork. He inspected it on both sides. Then he said: "Hay, waiter, come here.'" The waiter walked over and leaned on the counter. '•1 asked for veal?" said the cus tomer, inquiringly. •'Yes." "This haint veal. It's roast beef." "Roast beef?" repeated the waiter in great astonishment. "Yes, roast beef." The waiter turned to walk away. "Well," hesaid. "what's roast beef but veal in its second childhood? You gimmo a pain."—Buffalo Express.