A man who formerly was a waiter on a big transatlantic liner told this story the other day:
    “On a certain trip over I had at my table an irascible old gentleman who was a fresh air fiend. No matter what the weather he always insisted on having the porthole over the table open. It was no use to argue with him, but one day when the seas were very high and the ship pitching and rolling I ventured to remonstrate. He was up in arms in a minute. ‘You are paid to obey orders,’ he said tartly. ‘Open that port,’ I did. The soup course was served in safety. Then I asked him if he would have fish. ‘Of course I will’ he snapped. ‘And I'll have it in a hurry. Don't keep me waiting all day.’
    “Just at that moment an unusually big sea rolled by—that is, part of it did. A goodly portion came through the porthole, soaking the old man and depositing on the table in front of him a live fish. No waiter on board of our ship had ever served an order so quickly before. But I didn't get any credit for it. The queer thing about that story,” he added. “is that it isn't a fish story at all. I never told it yet to any one who believed it, but it is absolutely true.”—New York Press.

From— Heppner Gazette. (Heppner, Morrow County, Or.), 09 Nov. 1911. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress.