31 May 2009
A Waiter’s “Everything, Sir.”
A New Yorker, accustomed to the restaurants of the great metropolis of America, where everything can be had for the mere asking, except clean streets and a decent railroad car, went to Jersey City on some business. Entering a very respectable-looking hotel, the following dialogue ensued.
Hungry And Weary Travelled (holding a bill of fare in his hand as long as the Hudson).—What have you got ?
Patrick.—Shure, we’ve everything your honor’s tongue can think of.
Traveller.—Well, give me some ham and eggs.
Patrick.—Is it ham you’d be after getting here? Shure it’s just the only thing we’re out of. I don’t believe ye’d get a slice of ham in all the blessed State.
Traveller.—Then poach me some eggs.
Patrick.—By the powers! who ever heard of eggs this time of the year—they’ve every one got a chicken in them!
Traveller,—Broil me chicken, then.
Patrick.—By St. Patrick, the only rooster we had was stolen last night by some murdering thief. Perhaps your honor knows him?
Traveller. — Confound you, what have you got?
Patrici.— Sure, we’ve oysters, done in every variety, I’ll bring ye a stew in the twinkling of an eye.
In about half an hour a plate of greasy-looking milk and water, in which about half a dozen microscopic oysters were swimming for their lives, was brought . It is dangerous to mention New Jersey in the New Yorker’s presence since that day.
