One day a caller asked for a horse to attend a funeral.
"Certainly," said Spurr, and then, forgetting the solemn purpose for which his customer wanted the horse, he added, as usual, "Don't drive fast!"
"Look here, old man," was the reply, "I would like you to understand that I shall keep up with the procession if it kills the horse!"
INQUIRER (at South Station)—"Where does this train go?"
BRAKEMAN—"This train goes to New York in ten minutes."
INQUIRER—"Goodness! That's going some!"
With but three minutes to catch his train, the traveling salesman inquired of the street-car conductor, "Can't you go faster than this?"
"Yes," the bell-ringer replied, "but I have to stay with my car."