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How the Potato Face Blind Man Enjoyed Himself on a Fine Spring Morning
On a Friday morning when the flummywisters were yodeling yisters high in the elm trees, the Potato Face Blind Man came down to his work sitting at the corner nearest the postoffice in the Village of Liver-and-Onions and playing his gold-that-used-to-be accordion for the pleasure of the ears of the people going into the postoffice to see if they got any letters for themselves or their families.
"It is a good day, a lucky day," said the Potato Face Blind Man, "because for a begin-
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