From the October 1971 magazine.

. . .His Wonders to Perform

This railroad engineer has cause to ponder the mysteries of how things happen

I AM A RAILROAD ENGINEER. I had been sober six months and was sitting on the engine waiting for a signal. It was about 3:30 in the morning, closing time for gin mills. The night was cold and rainy, and no one would possibly be out but a railroad man or a drunk. My fireman said, "A drunk just staggered in front of our engine."

The man came into view on my side, and he was really loaded. He had about five more tracks to cross before he would be safe. I held my breath. He didn't quite make it--he fell on the last track. Everyone on my engine had some comment. I made a dirty remark about the poor unfortunate.

-- G. R. S.

Buffalo, New York

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