was nothing
more than a plain boarder in Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog's High-class Home for
Single Gentlemen, that he put what the School-master termed his "alleged
mind" on plans for the amelioration of the condition of the civilized.

"The trials of the barbarian are really nothing as compared with the
tribulations of civilized man," he said, as the waitress passed him a
piece of steak that had been burned to a crisp. "In the Cannibal Islands
a cook who would send a piece of broiled missionary to her employer's
table in this condition would herself be roasted before another day had
dawned. We, however, must grin and bear it, because our esteemed
landlady cannot find anywhere in this town a woman better suited for the
labors of the kitchen than the blank she has had the misfortune to draw
in the culinary lottery, familiarly known to us, her victims, as
Bridget."

"This is an exceptional case," said Mr. Pedagog. "We haven't had a steak
like this before in several weeks."

"True," returned the Idiot. "This is a sirloin, I believe. The last
steak we had was a rump steak, and it was not burned to a crisp, I
admit. It was only boiled, if I remember rightly, by mistake; Bridget
having lost her fifth consecutive cousin in ten days the night before,
and being in consequence so prostrated that she could not tell a
gridiron from a lawn-mower."

"Well, you know the popular superstition, Mr. Idiot," said the Poet.
"The devil sends the cooks."

"I don't believe it," retorted the Idiot. "That's one of those proverbs
that haven't a particle of truth in 'em--nor a foundation in reason
either, like 'Never look a gift horse in the mouth.' Of all absurd
advice ever given to man by a thoughtless thinker, that, I think, bears
the palm. I know a man who didn't look a gift horse in the mouth, and
the consequence was that he accepted a horse that was twenty-eight years
old. The beast died in his stables three days later, and the beneficiary
had to pay five dollars to have him carted away. As for the devil
sending the cooks, I haven't any faith in the theory. Any person who had
come from the devil would know how to manage a fire better than
ninety-nine per cent. of the cooks ever born. It would be a good thing
if every one of 'em were forced to serve an apprenticeship with the
Prince of Darkness. However, steak like this serves a good purpose. It
serves to bind our little circle more firmly together. There's nothing
like mutual suffering to in