The new North-west. [volume] (Deer Lodge, Mont.) 1869-1897, 1888-01-27
4 CHINESE RESTAURANT.
the EXPERIENCES OF A HUNGRY
AND INuuis,TlvE REPORTER.

No Oriental Luxuries In sight-A N.Y.
terious Compound Brought to IaOte'
Two Slices Of ssPe-sick-re-aut-t."-A
Pot of Delicious Tea
In Mulberry street, near Canal, amid the
noise, hustle and confusion Of the busy mer-
chants of the ssBend, y there is a quiet ana I'M
pretentious dining room. It is presided over
at all hours of the day and night by wan
Sing Foo, and the business is said 70 DC d
thriving one. Pictures of turtles, pigs,
sharks and several kinds of ~hobgoblins arc
nasted on the windows and their virtues, as
articles of diet, are set forth in choice spider
scratches upon pieces Of brown paper. Inc
most attractive sign, however, reads as fol-
lows: ga good diner s cents"
This was sufficient to lure a reporter into
the place recently. There were none OF the
Oriental luxuries in sight. On the walls were
a few pictures of flowers, highly colored, and
a certificate that Mr.. Foo, or some OF his
friends, had attended a Sunday school. The
tables were of pine and partially covered by
a ragged material that looked like a cross be-
tween a dishcloth and a mop. Mr.. Foo was
engaged in leveling the sole Of his shoe with
a Ratchet when the reporter entered, and,
after g%lancing up quickly, went on with his
work. The reporter dropped carelessly upon
q stool and waited. How long the wait would
have lasted will never be known. There was
a sudden interruption. A pungent odor stole
in from the back yard, where something was
being cooled. 1t was too powerful for any
nose save a highly cultivated n The re-
porter tried to keep it back, but out it came
"a double barreled sneeze-that set every
thug " juggling.
It struck Mr.. Foo anidship. The Ratchet
fell on his foot and the shoe dropped into
something which looked like a key Of mo-
lasses. There was blood in his eye and there
might nave been a tragedy, had not tho
innocent cause of all the commotion put on
a hungry look and touched his sunken abdo-
men with his finger. -
THE BEST IN THE HOUSE.
Mr.. Foo smiled so that no one could tell
whether he was weeping, wailing or crashing
his teeth as he said:
ewing Foo ali ale go to kiting see BAH"
A right, Nh. Foo. I'll forgive you. Now
just set up the best in the house, up to the
eight cent limit, and all will be we'll"
MI. Foo jumped away with the air of a
man who did not understand a word that had
been spoken. He kept out of sight for twenty
AAA44uVCo 0A1o ~pIVoAVu y q q &c OO"A
of something steaming hot, which he set Oh
the table mi then took a seat close by. He
began to whistle a peculiar call and the yell
lowish soup moved restlessly in the bowl. A
spoon came with the stuff. 1t required some
courage to take a mouthful, and it would
take a team of horses and a derrick to get one
up to the rack for a second trial. A mixture
of lard, mustard, salt and bilge water may
$oYY1nf a 1nnrinr onpofiko h,,f n ic 1,,ck a III
tie surprising to the stomach of q man not
thoroughly used to the customs Of tho Flow
cry Kingdom. MIR. Foo took the mysterious
compound away and came back in a little
while with a large platter and a couple of
small dishes. There were two slices of some
brown material on the platter. Mr.. Foo adj
mitted that it was ''pe-sick-re-aut-i." There
is no doubt hat it was the genuine goods. It
tasted SO. One of the slices was filled with
small fish bones, and the other was a dainty
morsel which might have been taken, with a
little imagination, to be a bit of fried num-
my. There were also some beans, cabbage
and rice. Mr.. Foo evidently runs his place
on the touch not and taste not plan. Well
it keeps one from being poisoned. A nibble
here and there demonstrated that an ash can
would be a safe place for Mr.. Foo's sslayout."
Ae~N ~ NVSy ~ U0AA why u JOuAS
Chinaman wears wrinkles and appears like
an old man while yet in his teens.
A SMALL POT OF TEA.
Mr.. Foo removed the dishes. He wanted to
bring some more of the menu, but the re-
porter indicated that he would prefer a drink
Of some kind. After a long delay Mr.. Foo
appeared with a tray bearing a small pot of
tea and q cup that resembled a toy. The tea
was a revelation. It was aromatic and the
flavor delicious, and if there had not been a
small family of Croton bugs found in the tea
pot, after the tea had been swallowed, it
would have been thoroughly enjoyable. This
ended the dinner:
"Well, MI. Foo, how much do I owe you?"
the reporter asked, simply as a matter Of
form.
The remark brought back MI. Foo,s cheer
~fulness, n he came near uncovering his
spine with longitudinal extension of his smile.
He showed for the first time that his English
had not been entirely neglected. After a few
marks with a brush, through the wreath of
smiles came the words soft and low:
"Sixta-nine-a Gen."
"Sixty-nine cents! Go to, Mr.. Foo. You are
crazy! Why your sign out there says that
you give a good dinner for eight cents. What
do you mean by this extortiony'
Ali! Excus-a-me. Eight cen for poor China
man. Mclean man richce, no eatee like
Chinaman. He eatee blenty soup, beef and
good tings. Muchee eatee, muchee pay. Belly
good. Sixty-nin-a cen cheapee. Chinaman
losee money all time. Belly poor.n
The bill was paid, and the visitor came
away with the experience and conviction that
MI. Foo had mistaken his calling. He ought
to double up with Hungry Joe and do the
"hand shaking act.-New York Tribune.