"I take the eyes out of potatoes," he said.
Well, I got him a job as scullion in a beanery.
He had the whitest hair and mustache you ever saw, and told me it had come in a night through a scare, that he nearly died from fright—now do you believe that?
Of course you do.
Why, more than once you've seen an old widower's hair suddenly turn from gray to black about five months after he buried the partner of his joys and woes, and he didn't dye from fright, either.
Say, did any of you people ever strike a prohibition town?
Any of you that have done so will sympathize with me, for I had a terrible experience of that sort when on a tour last winter.
To save my life I couldn't get anything stronger than Sparrowvinatis; that's a drink they have in those freak towns.
Well, sir, I spied a braw Scotchman selling tickets at a theatre door.