The man considered this very clever, and decided to use the expression on the next occasion. Shortly after he was met by a friend, who asked, “How are you?” With visible pride he answered, “You don’t see me.”
There is a clerk in the employ of a Philadelphia business man who, while a fair worker, is yet an individual of pronounced eccentricity.
One day a wire basket fell off the top of the clerk’s desk and scratched his cheek. Not having any court plaster at hand, he slapped on three two-cent postage stamps and continued his work.
A few minutes later he had occasion to take some papers to his employer’s private office. When he entered, the “old man” observing the postage stamps on his cheek fixed him with an astonished stare. “Look here, Jenkins!” he exclaimed. “You are carrying too much postage for second-class matter!”
“I suppose,” said the facetious stranger, watching a workman spread a carpet from the church door to the curb, “that’s the high road to heaven you’re fixing there?”
“No,” replied the man; “this is merely a bridal path.”