34: FIVE ACRES TOO MUCH. 



came so enraged that no train ever afterward started 

 on time ; in fact, every conceivable mode of evading 

 punctuality had been tested, but I was happy, at the 

 conclusion, to be able to repeat the immortal words, 

 &quot;I still live.&quot; 



Philosophy is a great resource under such circum 

 stances, and, after all, there is often as much gained 

 as lost by a want of punctuality. Many a comforta 

 ble nap and undisturbed perusal of the daily papers 

 two pleasures for which the ordinary day rarely fur 

 nishes opportunities have I had by the aid of the 

 Flushing Railroad. Some persons grumbled, and 

 abused the officials, and uttered bad language, but it 

 did no good. The employes soon became used to 

 the disappointment, -why should not the passengers ? 

 On one occasion, when the locomotive had been 

 wheezing along at a snail s pace, stopping frequently 

 to rest and take breath, I became alarmed, and asked 

 a brakeman what w r as the matter with the engine. 

 This was temerity on my part, for railroad men do 

 not approve of familiarity from passengers, and I 

 dreaded the result as he gazed calmly at me; but 

 suddenly a smile broke over his countenance, and he 

 answered laconically, &quot; Played out.&quot; 



The conductor was another sort of man ; when an 

 unhappy passenger, who had not borne his trials well, 



