Couldn't Fool The Colonel

Col. Frank Bradley went into a wellknown resturant tlie other day, when, looking over the menu card, his eye fell on "Puree tomato a la St. Julien." With the air of a learned professor of the ancient Celtio language, he looked up at the beclouded waiter and soleinnly said, "Puray tomato St. Julián," says the Cincinnati, Times Star. "Yes, salí," answered tiie gentleman of the claw-hammer coat and white gloves, and presently lie cameback with some blood-colored fluid and set it down before the hungr}' broker. "What's this you got here, son?" asked the broker. "Tomato soup; what you o'de'd." "Nol didn't order tomato soup. I ordered 'puray' tomato St. Julien. You take this back and get me what I or dered. IJdon't want any of your lowdown English dishes. I only eat in French, air. If you are going to put on ugs in this hash house and print in French, then by the Apostle St. Paul I shall no longer eat in Enelish. Mv i eyes and ears and palate all belong to the same porson, and they are attuned to each otlier. You don't palm off on me any red liquid like that and make me believe it has been garnished and seasïed with puray tomato a la St. Julien. or St. Julia, or St, Peter either. You've got to sling a few faux pas, a felo de se r two aud three or four femme de chatn)re before my palate can put up with it. You see there is a telegraphic connection jetween my eyes and my palate. You o and get me some puray a la the Bourse and Champs Elysees et tomato nd sauer kraut or 111 cut you off, cut ou off p. d. q. without a tip." "Yes, sah," answered the waiter, the orners of his mouth having joined the 3ack of his head, "dat's jes' what I ole de boss would happen if he didn't one let dem Freneh entanglements lono. I told him dar would be a re.srreetion heah." Itepealed- CJiurch chimes. Dome to deatli - Live lobsters.